Fat Mom Pole Dancing Ch. 01

I was having a sense of déjà vu, and couldn't quite place it.

As always, Denver International Airport was beautiful in a weird Arabian Nights way. The white tents sitting on the plains made a stark picture. I glanced at my watch again, and up at the monitor showing flight arrivals and it hit me.

I realized why I was having the déjà vu. I was feeling exactly like I had when I was waiting for my first date back in the sixth grade. There were the same butterflies in my belly. The same general nervousness. The same compulsion to look at the clock every few seconds. The same tension in my body that wouldn't really allow me to relax.

And so I waited.

And I fiddled.

I tried to look at the Drudge Report on my smartphone, but I couldn't concentrate.

So I waited and watched people and watched planes and waited.

And then, finally, they called the flight number and I was on my feet, waiting at the barrier.

I knew I had been putting on weight, and I was aware of every ounce of it as I stood there. God, I felt like a blimp.

And there he was and I was in his arms and he was holding me and kissing me, not little "hi mom" pecks, but real kisses. His hands on my back felt absolutely wonderful. When his hands slipped down to my ass I giggled and said "watch it buster," just as I had done so many times in the past.

I could literally feel the smile across my face, and I was unable to stop it. It pleased me no end that he was smiling back just as broadly.

He took my hand as we walked like teenagers to the carousel and waited for his duffel bag to come through.

"God," I said, looking up at him, "I am so glad you're home safe."

He chuckled at that and said "mom, I sat out the war in a nice air-conditioned gig in northern Japan. The worst danger I was in was with my karate teacher."

We laughed together on the way to the car. When he saw it he stopped cold.

"You kept it?" he said, and I thought for a minute he was going to tear up on me.

"Of course I did. Hell, I drove it quite a bit," I said.

The little blue Chrysler PT Cruiser Convertible was sitting there, shining like a sapphire since I had had it detailed the day before.

Once again he took me into his arms with that embrace I missed. A quick, soft kiss and he was heading for the driver's side.

He stopped with a funny look on his face.

"Ummmmmm," he said, "keys?"

I laughed and tossed him the keys. I was surprised when he ran around the car to open the door for me, but I accepted that little courtesy in good fashion.

On the way home, he fiddled with the radio, seeking his "oldies" stations, one of those things we shared. When Dion and the Belmonts started singing about "Runaround Sue" we were both able to sing along although sometimes we were reduced to humming when the words escaped us.

At home, he went into the front room and did a slow turn. Not much had changed in the four years he had been gone, but I enjoyed watching him take it all in.

"I absolutely have to shower," he said, "and then we're going out for the night."

I smiled and gave him a little finger wave as he headed to his old room.

As I waited there was that same déjà vu again. I was a schoolgirl waiting for my date to be ready. And, strangely, it felt right.

He came out of his room, freshly showered and shaved. I still had trouble picturing him with his short, military-cut hair, but I knew that would grow back out. And Jesus Christ, he was so damn handsome.

He was grinning as he walked across the room to me. Another of those slightly lingering kisses and he took my arm.

"Come on best girl," he said, "I'm taking you out and we're gonna tie one on."

I giggled like a damn schoolgirl at that, but allowed him to take my hand and lead me to his car.

This time he put the top down. It was a cool evening, but it was fun riding in the open car like that. The radio was playing, my hair was flying, and I just enjoyed looking at his profile as he drove. I noticed that he hesitated from time to time and when I asked him about it he explained that for almost three years he had been driving on the left side of the road and he had this image of dying in a head-on collision. I caught myself giggling again.

We went to a small neighborhood tavern first. I had stopped there from time to time when he was still at home, and I suppose it held some nostalgia for him. I hadn't been in the place in quite a while.

Once again, as soon as the car stopped he jumped out and ran around to open my door. When I realized where his eyes were lingering I felt my nipples, hard and tight in the coolness. I could actually feel myself blushing which drew a chuckle from him.

He offered me his arm, very formally, and I took it, grinning like an idiot. His smile was pretty wide too.

In the place, I wasn't surprised to see that I did not recognize anyone. We found a booth and he asked if I still liked screwdrivers. I said that would be fine and he returned from the bar with a screwdriver and a pitcher of beer.

We spend an absolutely delightful hour, him with his beer and me with two screwdrivers. He was telling me about his time in Japan, his job in the Air Force, and, in general, what he had been doing for the past three years. He hadn't been home since he left for Japan, and we had a lot of catching up to do.

I was flushed with laughter and, well, happiness when we left the little bar and went to a restaurant.

He drove confidently, and obviously hadn't forgotten his way around town. D'Amico's Steak House was a fixture in the city, and had been serving steaks and nothing but steaks for over 40 years. Their motto was "If you want seafood we can recommend several good restaurants."

I liked the way his hand lingered low on my back in that possessive way some men have. We followed the hostess to a booth and continued our conversation. The steaks were, as always, delicious. There was some giggling and laughing as we speared bites from each other's plates. Mostly, I was just basking in having him home.

We finished the night at another tavern, this one strategically selected since it was walking distance from the house.

"I'm going to get you drunk and take advantage of you," he said, as he parked the car in the little lot, "and I don't want to mess with a designated driver."

I giggled at that, took his arm and we went into the bar.

Another pitcher of beer and three more screwdrivers completed the night. I was fascinated with his stories. He was an intelligence analyst in the Air Force, and I liked hearing about his job. And, of course, there were wonderful stories about the things a bunch of young men got into in a strange land.

The place had an actual jukebox, and we stood, shoulders touching, as we looked over the menu and made our selections. I noticed that both of us were choosing slow songs. When the Righteous Brothers started their wonderful rendition of "Unchained Melody" he took my hand and led me to the postage stamp-sized dance floor. For the first time in my life, I did not feel embarrassed to be the only couple dancing.

And dance we did. It felt comfortable, natural, to lay my head against his chest. And the feeling of his cheek against the top of my head was oddly comforting. Since he's tall, over 6', and I'm short at 5'1", this was our natural posture. When his hand eased down to cup my ass and pull me to him I murmured a soft protest, but I didn't fight very hard for my virtue.

We laughed and danced and drank until about midnight. I wasn't stumbling drunk, but I was pretty well along. David was laughing too loud and obviously drunk himself. And damn it was fun.

It was right at midnight when he tossed back the last of his beer and stood, offering me his hand.

"Come on best girl," he said, "let's go home."

The place was only a couple of blocks from the house and we walked it in companionable silence. His hand on my hip felt good, and the occasional bumps between us were kind of fun.

He opened the door and stood back to let me in. In the front room, I turned to face him and suddenly I was in his arms.

This kiss was a real man-woman kiss and before I thought, I was responding. His mouth felt good on mine and when his tongue probed my lips I opened mine in invitation.

Suddenly I leaned back and put my hands on his chest.

"Davey," I said, a little breathless, "we can't."

He looked down at me with a funny quizzical look on his face.

"You really don't know, do you?" he said.

"Know what honey?" I responded.

"Mom," he said, his hands moving to my shoulders, "it has always been you for me. I've saved myself for you. If you say no I will accept that, but it won't change how I feel."

I stood, looking at him while I took this in.

He was holding my eyes with his.

"What," I said, and then had to clear my throat. "What," I started again, "do you mean 'saving yourself'?"

He smiled at me then, that boyish grin spreading across his face.

"You know damn well what I mean," he said.

"But, honey," I started, and he interrupted me with another kiss.

The kiss felt good.

The kiss felt natural.

His hands on my back, rubbing softly, felt absolutely wonderful.

And my body, my treacherous body, wanted him desperately.

I was panting when he broke the kiss and looked down at me.

"I'll quit if you say 'no,'" he said, and kissed me again.

My mind was screaming "stop this," but my body was responding. The pressure in my belly was a living thing, demanding relief. I could feel a tingle down to my toes. Without realizing it, my tongue was meeting his, playing, tasting, and sharing.

Again it was him who broke the kiss.

He was grinning.

He held my eyes with his as his fingers found the buttons of my blouse.

I couldn't look away.

When his fingers brushed the sweep of my cleavage my knees literally went weak and when he tugged the blouse out of the waistband of my slacks and opened it wide, exposing my belly and my bra I resisted the urge to try to cover myself with my hands.

And then his arms were around me again and those kisses, those sweet kisses, were covering my mouth, my cheeks, my eyelids, my forehead. And his hands, callused against the softness of my skin, were on my back under the blouse, tracing the line of my bra and then the line of my slacks, each touch tingling like electricity and drawing little shivers from me.

When he started working the blouse off of my arms I helped, adjusting my arms to allow what he was doing.

And then I was standing there before my son, in my slacks and bra and, oddly, I wasn't embarrassed. Instead, I was proud on a level I didn't really understand, that this handsome young man wanted me.

And it hit me that I wanted him.

And this time it was me who kissed first, my arms going around his neck and pulling him down to me. It was my back that was arching, pressing my breasts, and, yes, my belly into him. It was my fingers entwining in his hair, holding him to me.

When I broke the kiss I was laughing and crying at the same time.

"Davey," I whispered, "are you certain?"

He just smiled and took my hand.

I felt my will surrender to him as he led me to the bedroom in which I had slept alone for years.

When he reached around me, still watching my eyes, and unhooked my bra I felt an instant of shame at the way my saggy breasts fell to lay on my belly, but the look of delight on his face erased that.

Then he was on his knees before me, gently lifting my foot to his lap so that he could take my shoe off of me. Then the little anklet I wore. And then the other foot. I had my hands on his shoulders for balance as I did that awkward little two-step.

My breath caught when I felt him unbutton and then unzip my slacks. He kissed my belly button as he started slowly, so slowly, working the slacks down. I giggled a little when his tongue flicked out to probe my navel.

Once again I held his shoulders and did a two-step out of my slacks.

And now I was standing before him in only my panties.

I could feel the blush starting at my cheeks and spreading down, warm and, somehow, exciting.

His hands at the waistband of my panties stole my breath again. As he rolled them down, in a tight little band, I could feel the pressure working down my thighs, my calves, and then I was utterly naked before him.

There was that strange naturalness as he took me into his arms again. Now his hands were roaming up and down my back, lightly caressing, then squeezing, then tickling. The kisses were lingering, and I could feel my need and my passion building.

The burning/tingling/tickling low in my belly was growing more insistent.

When he helped me onto the bed I went almost eagerly.

And then, as he undressed, I couldn't look away. His body was still lean, still the swimmer's body from his High School Swim Team Championship days.

He was oddly shy then, turning as he worked his pants and then his shorts off.

When he turned to face me I couldn't look away from him. His erection stood straight up, showing his desire. And my belly flared with my own desire.

He crawled slowly into bed beside me, carefully taking my face in his hands and kissing me again, softly this time.

When he broke the kiss I grabbed his face in my hands and looked into his eyes.

"Are you certain, Davey?" I asked.

He was holding my eyes as he whispered "yes" and crawled onto me, his knees parting mine.

He reached down to guide himself and then he was inside of me.

It was like nothing I had ever experienced before. I had had men who were small, and men big enough to stretch me. But this was something else. We didn't just fit. We matched. It was like each cell found its mate. It was as close to perfect as I can imagine.

As he completed entering me, his full length inside, he held still, his head thrown back, his breath held.

I watched him, feeling the perfect mating of our bodies, and falling in love with my son.

He slowly pulled out a little and then back in, making his movements slow. Another time.

The third I felt his body clench and felt the sudden wetness of his semen mixed with my natural lubricants.

His eyes went wide and he started to pull free but my heels caught the backs of his thighs and my arms his neck and I pulled him to me, holding him inside of me.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"For what baby," I said, "don't you realize that you just gave me a wonderful gift and paid me a great compliment. You have nothing to be sorry for."

I was rubbing his back softly, encouraging him to settle onto me. His weight, as he relaxed, felt good and when he turned and buried his face in my neck, nuzzling there I stroked his hair as I had done all of his life.

With a little whimper, his softening penis slipped out of me, allowing a second gush of sticky wetness between my legs and down the crack of my ass.

He rolled off of me then, supporting himself on his elbow, his hand finding my breast. I felt my nipple and areola tighten at his touch, and my gasp made him chuckle.

He moved slowly, taking first my nipple and then my areola and then breast tissue into his mouth. My body shuddered as he latched on like a baby and began sucking softly. The soft moan I heard was my own, and my hand automatically went to support his head.

I drifted off as he was nursing like that.

I woke later. I was having one of "those" dreams. And then I realized it wasn't a dream at all. His hand was lightly caressing the roundness of my belly, his fingertip playing in my pubic hair. My legs were parted as I woke, and he was smiling at me, supporting his head on his hand, propped up on his elbow.

He kissed me softly as he worked around until his knees were between mine and then, still holding the kiss, he was inside of me again and I was overwhelmed by the way we matched.

This time his rhythm was slow. He held my hands with his, up on the pillow beside my head. He kept the kisses coming as I felt my pleasure building deep in my belly.

With a sudden gasp, I was cumming. Hard. My belly muscles clenched and I would have been in a situp position except for his weight holding me down.

He didn't break his rhythm and my climax kept going, my breathing in harsh little pants.

When I thought I would explode I felt the sudden tension in his body as he reached his own climax.

His back arched and I felt the hardness of his belly against the softness of mine. And again there was that wonderful wetness, hot and sticky, as I overflowed.

He didn't release my hands and when the tension left his body he kissed me again.

"I love you," he whispered.

I pulled my arms free and wrapped them around his neck, burying my face in his neck.

"And I love you too baby," I whispered back.

And suddenly I realized just how badly I needed to pee.

"God baby," I said, "you have to let me up or it's going to get really messy."

He chuckled, slipped out of me, and rolled over, freeing me.

I made it, barely. I was shocked when he walked into the bathroom, still naked, as I peed. He was smiling down at me and I could feel the damn blush spreading. When he kissed me and slowly ran his hand down my belly

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm going to wipe you," he said.

"Oh my god," I said in my best Valley Girl imitation, "you're kidding, right?"

He just smiled as he pulled a length of toilet paper and made a little pad of it.

"Oh Jesus," I whispered as I finished and the pad he had fashioned found where I was wet.

"Oh lord," is said, "front to back baby," and I giggled.

As he wiped me there was something so terribly naughty, but so wonderfully intimate that I felt my nipples tighten to an almost painful hardness.

As he was finishing he bent to kiss me and I kissed him back, hands hanging loosely, finding this attention exciting.

When I stood he took his place in front of the toilet and started to pee. I couldn't resist and stood behind him, reaching around to hold an "aim" him. He chuckled softly and said, "be careful, you're cleaning up any messes."

I giggled a bit at that and told him I had cleaned up plenty of his messes.

It felt strange, doing morning things with someone else nearby. We brushed our teeth together and washed our faces.

I suppose I wasn't surprised when he took my hand and led me back to bed.

What did surprise me was how quickly my body responded to his touches and his kisses.

I could feel my wetness making my thighs slick before our first kiss ended. When he started playing with my breasts, teasing my nipples, lightly brushing the love bumps in my areolas, I found myself holding my breath. And when he slipped inside of me I felt, once again, that perfect match that our bodies made.

This time we were both taking our time. Making love, not just indulging in sex.

We were kissing, soft little loving kisses, generally holding still, just reveling in our bodies being joined. Tender kisses. Passionate, but gentle, slow, easy.

I knew I was crying, and I didn't care.

When I came, my orgasm was slow and gentle. Not the hard contractions I had always associated with release, but a flowing of pure pleasure. I could feel my love honey soaking us both, and my breathing was in little pants, and it went on and on and I thought I would faint.

But I didn't.

And he kept up that slow, sensuous rhythm until I exploded in a final convulsion of pure release.

I had never been one of those women who "squirt" as you see in those pornographic videos, but this time I did. I felt the explosion of my built-up ejaculate spatter down our thighs and he suddenly gasped his own release and we were both locked in that position, my fingers digging into his back and his into my arms until we both suddenly gasped our conclusion.

"Oh Jesus, oh Jesus, ohjesusohjesus" was all I could say, well, all I could whisper.