Beyond the Borderline

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CPBaudelaire
CPBaudelaire
1,219 Followers

Nana absolutely beamed and nodded. Mom was squeezing my hand hard enough to cut off the circulation. I was grinning fit to bust. "Thanks Gramps, you have no idea how much that means to me, coming from you."

Gramps rose from the table. "You keep up the good work, Rick. I have a feeling you'll do us all proud some day."

Nana joined Gramps, walking out to the family room. Mom followed me to the kitchen as I cleared the table. Once in the kitchen, Mom threw herself into my arms, hugging me fiercely, kissing my cheeks and forehead before laying her head on my chest. "Ricky, that was so wonderful, so sweet and so unexpected," I almost don't know what to say. You're the most wonderful son any mother could possibly have. It was all so well done, so much care and work obviously went into everything, right down to the music...I love you so much sweetheart!" She was tearful with emotion now.

"Please don't cry Mom."

"Don't be silly. Women are allowed to get a little weepy when they are very, very happy, like I am now."

I was acutely aware of Mom's body against mine. We were in contact from thigh to shoulder, her breasts pressed against my sternum, her head on my shoulder. I felt sure that she could probably feel my heart, which was pounding at a mile a minute. Her familiar smell of soap and sandalwood wafted to my nose, intoxicating me more than any wine possibly could.

"It's the least I could do Mom, you're everything to me."

Mom hugged me tighter still and I began to feel the stirrings of a major woody in my pants. I desperately wanted the hug to continue, but I also was frantic that Mom would feel my burgeoning erection. I felt absolutely certain that my arousal was obvious to Mom, but she gave no clue, continuing the hug. Finally, I simply had to break our embrace.

"Well, I better finish the cleanup. Happy birthday again, Mom."

"Thank you so much Ricky. I'll cherish this memory as long as I live," she said with a tender smile, eyes bright with emotion.

Par for my course, I finished the evening in a state of elation and conflicted lust. Just before she retired, Mom sought me out as I was leaving the bathroom, having just finished brushing my teeth. She hugged me again, looking into my eyes.

"Thanks again Ricky. You're so special to me."

"You're more than welcome, Mom. I'm so glad I made you happy."

Then I did something so bold, so impulsive, so incredibly stupid, that I couldn't believe myself later.

I kissed Mom lightly on her lips and then fled to my room, leaving her standing in the hallway with a stunned look on her face.

Once in my room, I flung myself onto the bed, banging my head repeatedly on the headboard in frustration. How could I be such an absolute idiot? What the HELL was I thinking? I began to fear for my sanity and self-control. The meticulous mental partition I created between my private fantasies and the real waking world I shared with my mother was in danger of collapsing completely. How could I let Mom discover that my feelings for her were NOT a passing phase? I fell in love with her more each day and my desires to be with her, to be her lover, were turning into an uncontrollable force, I feared. If she learned the true depth and intensity of my feelings, her revulsion and disgust would know no bounds. It was absolutely unbearable.

Not surprisingly, after a while there came a quiet knock at my door.

"Can I come in, Ricky?" she asked softly.

I groaned inwardly. "Yeah Mom, door's unlocked," I said resignedly.

She sat on the edge of the bed and took my hand, kissing the back before clasping it in both of hers.

"We need to get a few things out in the open, son."

I nodded mutely, afraid to speak.

Mom began to speak, kindly but firmly. "Kissing your Mom on the lips like you just did is not appropriate, sweetheart. You do not want to go down this road with me. You're a hormonally impaired young man who has a glaringly obvious crush on his own mother. I will not allow you to become infatuated with me. I will not allow any intemperate displays of your feelings in this regard."

"Believe it or not, I can appreciate how you might be feeling right now, but you have to get a grip on yourself and learn how to control your impulsive behavior. I'll forgive that kiss as a one-time, birthday indiscretion, but there better not be any more of those shenanigans. You will absolutely not cross that line again. There will be absolutely nothing more between us, except a normal mother-son relationship. Are we crystal clear on this?"

I nodded again, tears filling my eyes. "I'm soooo sorry Mom. I didn't want to upset you or hurt you, no way, not ever. But...but...I can't seem to help how I feel about you. I can't get you out of my head!"

"Every girl I see in the hallway at school, every pretty woman I pass on the street, I always end up comparing them to you," I said miserably.

As I spoke, Mom's eyes bored into me, her expression stony, her jaw set and lips thinned with suppressed anger. As I watched her struggle to contain her emotions, I braced myself for an explosion.

Finally, patience and motherly concern seemed to win out and her demeanor softened for a moment. "I know this is probably very hard for you to cope with, but things are going back to normal as of right this minute. If you think you need professional help, we'll get it for you," she said squeezing my hand sympathetically.

Sighing, Mom got up from my bed. She seemed somehow shrunken, shoulders slumped and a bit listless. "I always felt that we had a wonderful, close and loving relationship. If you place any value at all on that, on the real love I have for you, you'll get your act together right now. I can't tell you how sorry I am that things came to this pass."

***

I tossed and turned interminably as I struggled to fall asleep. Far off mutterings of thunder and dim strobes of distant lightning from an advancing summer storm added to my disquiet. In my dreams, I replayed my brief kiss with Mom over and over. The variations were endless. Sometimes she returned the kiss with great passion, other times, she slapped me and beat me or dragged me by my ear to Gramps. Other times, she didn't respond at all, simply looking at me with accusatory eyes as she faded from my vision, tears running down her cheeks.

In my febrile dream, I was suddenly aware of the sound of my bedroom door opening. The hallway light was on. It illuminated Mom from behind briefly before she slipped quickly into my room, very quietly closing the door behind her. The light was nearly nonexistent, but the illumination of my fever dream revealed a diaphanous light blue peignoir, which did little or nothing to conceal her figure. She was clearly, gloriously naked beneath it. In the dim, silver-gray light coming from my window, I could just make out the movement of her breasts beneath the material of the nightgown and the hint of hair between her thighs. Her nipples appeared hard, thrusting pebble-like against the bodice of her gown. She was breathing rapidly and deeply, her breasts rising and falling hypnotically beneath the encasing, near-transparent fabric.

Feigning sleep, I struggled to maintain slow, steady breathing as I lay on my back beneath my covers. There was a brief creak and a slight shifting as Mom sat on the bed next to me. Opening my eyes to tiny slits, I could see her looking at me, her expression a curious blend of anxiety and resoluteness. Closing my eyes fully again, I was startled when I felt her hand on my thigh. It took all of my concentration not to respond as she gently stroked. Sighing, she slowly pulled the covers off my lower torso and legs, exposing me to the cool night air. As she ran her hands over my naked legs, she murmured to herself.

"So handsome...so smooth...lovely."

Gradually, her hands moved towards my groin, fingertips teasing the sensitive skin of my upper, inner thighs, right next to my scrotum. Then it happened. Her hand gently cupped my sac, her middle finger drawing a delicate line from my perineum back to my balls. I was now fully erect, my cock moving lightly against my abdomen in concert with my racing pulse. As Mom continued to cup my balls with one hand, she gently began to stroke my shaft with the other.

"Mmmmm, so pretty...so hard," she whispered to herself.

Suddenly, there was a warm, enveloping wetness over the head of my cock. I started and cried out, my eyes opening fully, all pretense of sleep lost.

"Oh, Mom. So good!"

"Do you like Mommy sucking your wonderful cock, Ricky?"

"Yesssssssss."

"Lie back. I'm going to make you cum and eat all your delicious spunk."

"Mommm, unnggghhhhh, I thought, unngghhhhh, you said we couldn't...."

"I love you, Ricky. I...we...need this," she moaned between licks of my shaft. Bending to her task with a will, she took my head back in her mouth and began jacking my shaft firmly and quickly. Overtaken by the intensity of her actions, I began to lose control.

"Ohhhh god, Mom. I'm gonna... I'm gonna...I'm cumming! I'm cuuuummmmmminnnng Mom!"

As I began to shoot, I heard a creak outside my door. Suddenly, it crashed open, with great force and speed, completely overwhelming the doorstop on the baseboard, its spring shattering into pieces as the doorknob buried itself in the adjacent drywall in a puff of white dust. Mom jerked away from me as I came, my cum splattering her cheeks and forehead as she turned.

"What the fuck is going on here!" Gramps roared. "What are you two doing?" Striding into the room like an avenging deity, he jerked Mom by the arm, slinging her across the room, where she fetched up against the wall in a sobbing heap. I felt myself seized by my shoulders, propelled forcefully out of bed as Gramps shoved me with all his might. "You little SHIT!" Shove. "You perverted bastard!" Shove. "You sick little son of a bitch!" SHOVE.

A sound of breaking glass, sharp pain and wetness as I hurtled out the window into the pouring rain and flashing lightning of the storm outside. Falling, falling, my mother's plaintive cry fading into the distance as I fell and fell. "Riiiiiiccckkkkkkeeeeeeeeeeee," she wailed. The ground rushed up to meet me and...

...I awoke with a moan, bolt upright, drenched in sweat, crotch soaked with my dream spend, my sheets damp with perspiration, blinking blearily in the golden morning light streaming through my window. Drawing a shuddering breath, I collapsed back onto my bed, shivering with the intensity of my nightmare.

When I dragged myself downstairs later, Mom was already up and about, sipping her coffee. Her hair was still damp from the shower and she was wearing an old, threadbare green housecoat over her man pajamas. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, with dark circles readily evident. Truth be told, I don't think she looked much better than I did.

As I slid into my chair in the breakfast nook, she stared at me, her eyebrow raised in an unspoken question.

We just looked at each other for almost a full minute, neither of us speaking. I was tongue-tied and my difficulty talking only got worse as I saw her eyebrows start to narrow with impatience while she waited for me to respond. I felt that I was completely adrift, rudderless and lost. My brain knew what I needed to say, but all I could seem to think about was how pretty she looked, standing there in her simple cloth bathrobe.

Finally, shame won out and I cast my eyes downward, staring at the placemat on the table in front of me.

"Yeah mom," I sighed. "I thought about things most of the night. I think I've already done some pretty bad damage to us, but I don't want to lose what we still have. I'll get my sh...er, stuff together from now on. I'm sorry."

"Thank you, Ricky. You're a good person- never forget that. You're also still my boy and I love you," she said, her voice hushed, choked with emotion.

She then lowered her voice and spoke seriously and slowly. "Just remember this, son: I know you better than you know yourself. Getting things back on an even keel is NOT going to be easy for you. I can sense the depth of your feelings for me, both good and bad. You're facing a big challenge here and it's not going to be as simple as saying your sorry and agreeing to 'work on things'."

Her voice broke briefly. "It's going to hurt you a lot, Ricky, getting through this. I'm not sure if I can be there for you in the right way, the way you need, to get back on track." She was openly crying now, her despair obvious.

I was on my feet in an instant, rushing to hold her. At first, she resisted my embrace, then gave way, head turned to my chest, wetting my tee shirt with her tears. I stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. I was starting to choke up myself. "I'm sorry Mom, I'm so sorry. I'll get myself straightened out on this, I promise. I'll do it for you, I'll do it for us. I don't EVER want to do anything to hurt you."

She briefly returned my hug and broke our embrace. She put her hands on my forearms, looking into my eyes with great intensity, "Now you see why I can't allow this...this...thing...between you and me to go one inch further. Look at what it's doing to us, even after that one little kiss! You have no idea how much it all frightens me. I feel like we're on the edge of a precipice."

As she spoke, Mom grabbed my shoulders forcefully, her eyes boring into mine, testing, measuring and probing. I felt naked before her gaze.

After an interminable pause, she spoke, her voice choked with anxiety and sadness.

"When I look over that edge, Ricky, I see ruin. I see ruin and sadness. I can't bear that thought."

"I won't let it happen, Mom. I refuse. I'll be strong for us," I said with a resoluteness I did not truly feel.

"I hope you can, Ricky. It's going to hurt you and it's going to make you grow up faster than I want. I'll try to be strong for you too."

I'm not quite sure how we managed to get through the next few weeks, but we survived. We gradually settled back into our routine, even beginning to enjoy our time together in the kitchen again. I got into sort of a weird headspace while all this was going on, with some unexpected benefits. I can see in hindsight that I was, without knowing it, redirecting my attachment to Mom into other outlets. Subconsciously or not, I think that saved my sanity. My grades were always good, but I developed an ability to concentrate that was gratifying and surprising. Suddenly the A's were coming without too much pain and I rocketed up in the class standings, much to the approval of Gramps, Nana and most importantly, Mom.

I'm certain that Mom felt that our little talk had helped to get me to redirect my thoughts, but as time passed and I had time to reflect on what she had said to me that morning after The Kiss, I know I came to a conclusion which would have appalled her. What stuck with me was what was NOT said, as much as what she did say to me. She never flat out told me that she just loved me as her son, in that way only. The other question I asked myself in the dark hours of the night was why did Mom describe what happened as a thing between us? And why was she afraid? What was there to be afraid of when she knew I still loved her as a son, and always would? Unless, unless she felt some of the same things I did? Unless...she was somehow afraid of her own feelings? Of course, I could have been reading way too much into everything, as much as I was in love and lust with Mom, thinking with the Little Head Override was likely. For better or worse though, I began to believe that Mom simply couldn't (and probably never would) act on what I thought were her own feelings towards me.

***

My 16th birthday came and went, and I got my driver's license. Against Gramp's objections, Mom made sure I had use of the family car whenever possible. In private, she made the reasons and the terms of her support clear.

"Here's the deal hotshot. You need to get out and socialize. You need to see how many wonderful girls there are out there. I can't and won't be the only star in your romantic universe. You've been as good as your word so far, for which you have my admiration and respect, but I think this is a very important step for you to be taking now."

"I understand, Mom, but you can't expect me to acquire a girlfriend with a snap of my fingers."

She looked me up and down with a frankly measuring eye, reaching to squeeze my biceps appreciatively. "I think you'd be surprised, Ricky. You're a pretty handsome guy. Your running, swimming and weight room time are paying noticeable dividends and you have a certain charm about you that young ladies will have a hard time resisting."

"Mom!"

"But me no buts," she said, brooking no disagreement. "My professional, womanly appraisal is that you are definitely hunky." She smiled, squeezed my arm and ruffled my hair for the first time in ages. "Just remember, be your usual confident and assured self. The girls will be clawing and scratching to get at you, believe me." She paused for a moment, looking at me more seriously. "I know you're still carrying a bit of a torch for me, Ricky, but you've been good as gold lately, and I appreciate your maturity and restraint. You've done a tremendous amount of growing up in the past few months."

"Dr. Mom's prescription right now is to find a nice girl your own age. Do some necking and exploring together. Discovering intimacy with someone your own age is a sweet reward of being young. You shouldn't miss that."

"Wow, Mom. I hardly know what to say. I feel a bit sandbagged. Are you saying I should just hook up with one of my classmates, simply for fun?"

"Just get out there and see what happens, Ricky. You're a very nice young man. I'm also sure you're a gentleman and you wouldn't deliberately hurt any girl you were, uhm, with. I just want you to have a normal life, seeing and doing all the things young folks your age do," she said. I thought I could almost detect a note of pleading in her voice.

"Okay, Mom, I'll do my best, but I don't think it's going to be as easy as you say to meet girls." Inside, I was almost a little angry with her. How could I possibly make a serious effort to go out on dates with girls when I was in love with a woman?

"Remember, 'Fortune favors the brave,' Ricky."

"As my general, my mother commands," I replied, sketching off a casual salute.

***

I did my best to follow Mom's advice, but it wasn't easy. Having fallen hard for a real lady, I was not especially well equipped to deal with the adolescent game playing which seemed to be the stock-in-trade of most girls my age. I guess unlike most teenaged guys, what I wanted was something more honest and straightforward. Mom was right about girls being interested in me, though. That was a nice ego-boost, but because I was so particular and not into game playing, I quickly got a reputation as being a bit stuck-up and aloof. Well, I could live with that. Eventually, I did find someone who I got along with in Grace Kim.

As Mom had once predicted, she was growing to become a beautiful young lady. Tall, brainy, athletic and lithe, with long, amazingly glossy black hair all the way down to a major league great ass, she also had a reputation of being very choosy, a real Asian ice princess. It was with some trepidation I approached her about a date one day after homeroom.

"Hey, Grace, uhmmm, I was wondering if you were doing anything Friday. Do you think you'd like to see a movie with me?"

"I guess it would depend, Rick. I'm sort of allergic to explosions and bathroom humor."

"Well, to be honest, I've been wanting to check out a double feature over at the college. It's 'Pan's Labyrinth' and Jean Cocteau's 'Beauty and the Beast.' When I thought about who I know who might appreciate the movies, you're the first person who came to mind."

CPBaudelaire
CPBaudelaire
1,219 Followers