Including Me Ch. 01

He mostly listened, occasionally questioning but I could see him soaking it all in and brooding on the potential for the future of us both, little by little getting used to the fact that one day it would be his responsibility, not mine. But one vital aspect had remained necessarily off limits and remained unbroached. I never once spoke to my son or consciously hinted in any way about anything of a sexual nature. I'd never had "the talk" with him, even. Some might suggest that I exuded sexuality with the way I dressed. Some might try to frame our playful frolicking as some kind of foreplay. But the truth of the matter was that everything about our relationship had been perfectly chaste and healthy and the strength and closeness of our bond was certainly the envy of mothers and sons the world over. And as I woke up at 6am on that Friday morning and killed the alarm, it would remain chaste.

For eighteen more minutes.

I opened the window and inhaled the delicious morning air, May sunshine filtered through the green of the tree outside. The breeze played against my neck, my midriff and thighs around my cami top and shorts PJs. I rolled my head luxuriously and stretched the sleep from my limbs, before moving to the mirror to shake out my hair, running my hands through it a few times just to work it out. I sprayed out one full puff of perfume onto my breasts. I used the toilet, brushed my teeth and removed my pyjamas in favour of a blue satin robe that dropped just above my knees, wrapping the belt around my midriff to close it. Slid my feet into a pair of pink fluffies. Glanced at the time, just coming up to ten minutes past.

I exited the bedroom and softly padded downstairs. Around the dining room, through the kitchen. Past the office, along the hall, through into the living room and back into the dining room. These rooms were all open plan, with the stairs coming down in the centre of the house and only the office, garage, downstairs toilet and front porch separated by doors. Padded around again. Humming quietly to myself, allowing the minutes to pass in their own time, just being. One more tour around the ground floor in a circle, back into the living room. Look at the clock. 6:15 turned to 6:16. I padded up the stairs. Up and down the spacious upstairs hallway once, corners of my mouth crooked upward in an excited, knowing smile. I came to a stop outside his bedroom door. A glance back at the longcase clock standing in the nook opposite, ticktocking away unobtrusively, suggesting the time, hinting at it rather than telling. The minute hand exactly halfway between the three and four. The second hand now making its way past seven, slow motion creeping towards eight.

Deep breaths, no need to control the buzz, just enjoy it. Past eight, approaching nine now. Fifteen seconds. Hand out, softly turn the door handle. I was counting the ticks and tocks now, ten seconds left as I pushed and the door swung open before me, revealing the bedroom my son had inhabited since he became old enough and I conceded that we ought to sleep in separate bedrooms. That had been tough on both of us.

Now as the room opened out before me, the side of the chest of drawers partly visible facing out from the inside wall to the right side of the door; the tall, wide wardrobe on the wall over to the right with its simple, ornate brass handles. The smaller window beyond it on the same, south facing wall pouring in rich, golden morning sun at an acute angle towards me so that it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to see further to the left. The framed poster on the far wall adjacent to the window, a publicity shot of a film he favoured.

And then his bed swung into view, the foot of which stood directly opposite the door through which I peered. A strong wooden king size frame with a solid bedstead. Dark sheets complimented pillowcases and quilt cover of bold cross patterned red and green shades. The duvet played across the most beautiful sight I could ever have wished to see. Facing up, his left arm and leg extended from beneath the covers just barely showing a hint of blue briefs, his already strong chest on show beneath the lightest fuzz of hair. Above it his well defined jaw and ruffles of hair framed his sleeping face and I could have cried for love just then. I flicked my head back at the clock just as the second hand swept past the 12 mark.

My son is a man.

That's what I thought, those exact words as my head turned back to the scene before me. And in thinking those words it was as if a wall in my world came tumbling down and all the feelings behind it were exposed, ripe for exploration like some luscious garden filled with new and wonderful new fruits, flowers and delights. A part of me wanted to run the short distance across the room, to throw myself upon my son and... no, my plans and preparations had done me well, they ensured the onslaught of emotions didn't overwhelm me. The events of the day that had in prospect seemed so abstract now became intense and insuperable.

I had no need to rush, yet I acknowledged that neither was there any cause for delay. I stepped forward over the threshold into his room and pulled his door behind me so that it swung almost closed. I kicked off my slippers, but left my robe on. For now I'd maintain a limit on the contact we'd make, this was an act of preparing him, of providing context. Before my son had been a man for much more than ten seconds, I stood poised to crawl into his bed and hold him as a man for the first time. Gently, catlike on my hands and knees I softly placed myself at his side.

In one fluid motion my left knee crossed over his, my leg nestling into the crevice between his thighs, as I simultaneously pressed my chest into his side and brought my left hand to rest on the far side, by his armpit. Resting on my right elbow then I slid that hand beneath his neck. I drew my face over his, nudging his nose with mine to announce myself, our lips an inch apart, his soft breath warm against as I felt him stir and his eyes open a crack.

My son awoke as a man for the first time with a woman pressed against him. Draped across him like some trophy lion skin but with glossy eyes that gazed at him hungrily, speaking volumes if only they could be heard. This was the moment and I waited no longer. I turned my face so slightly and allowed my lips to drop, fraction by fraction closing that inch, giving him just time to wonder and then at the last brushing his lips with mine. Then pressing. Then at the fist sign of him responding to me, crushing.

Half asleep and half awake his lips moved against mine and we formed a seal. The gentlest of sucking motions holding our mouths joined tight as I rocked just ever so slightly upward against him, my right hand holding tighter upwards on the back of his neck to increase the press between us. So far only his mouth was responding, I needed to encourage him, to help him begin to accept that limits which had previously been unquestioned now no longer existed. Still leaning on my right elbow, I ran my left hand down his right arm to his wrist, worked his hand out from under the cover and moved it over my left rear cheek, still covered by my robe. Held it there, palm facing down. Ran my hand from his wrist over the back of his hand and pressed it into me.

No sooner I had done so, I felt his fingers and thumb grip into me the slightest amount, so that rather than just pressing against me his hand now held my cheek in a grip, a caressing grip as he alternately tensed and relaxed his fingers as we started to do the same with our lips. The almost imperceptible motions in both places, the fingers of my right hand held lovingly to his nape and my other hand now returned to his chest, I was delighted to feel his left arm, until now resting outward beyond my lower shoulder, take the initiative and sweep up across my back and all the way around me, as slight as I was, to take my left arm below the shoulder in a gentle, but firm grip.

As we continued to love on one another, his hands started to become more insistent, the one pulling on my rear and the other pushing on my arm so that, from resting against his side, I took the hint and moved my torso slowly upward, pushing off the mattress with my right elbow. I allowed him to manoeuvre me over him, so that now my breasts held tightly to his chest, my left thigh against his manhood and my groin rubbing excruciatingly on his right thigh. I let out the faintest moan into his mouth, our lips parting more as they worked against each other. I tensed the inner part of my upper thighs, feeling the press on my sensitive clitoris and the growing alertness of his manhood with the front of my left thigh.

Our lips never parted through it all, feeling so natural and beautiful in the kiss it seemed my whole life had been waiting for. His left hand was on my back now, moving up to hold the back of my neck, taking control of me even as his right hand pulled me into him, pulled my pussy against his leg, my sex coursing against his thigh, keeping me in the place where he wanted me. His hips began to roll, such a slight movement but it was moving the whole world for me, clouding my head in a rush of delight and despair and the delicious aches were coming from my body and my mind shot through with sparks of light, one each for every point of pleasure I felt and... BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ went his alarm and we both jumped and it was 6:30am. I'd known it was coming and I knew what to do, so immediately I pushed up off him as he reached out his right arm to slap off the noise and before he could concern himself with the idea of continuing I was already spinning off the bed and jumping up to stand at the side of his bed with my arms held together against my chest, hands fisted holding closed the very top of the still fastened robe to my chin. I breathed in and out hard for a moment, letting my heart rate slow, but also letting him see the effect he'd had on me. Then I grinned at him.

"Happy birthday to you!" I started toi sing to my son as he quickly relaxed back into his pillow and sighed and matched my grin with a lopsided one of his own.

"Happy birthday to you," I continued to gush, dancing toward the end of the bed with little wiggles of my hips as I looked back over my shoulder at him. "It's time to go running," changing the lyrics to steer him back to track for something a bit more routine, to normalise what had just happened. Then I slowed it down for the last line. "With my man and that's..." I bent myself into a Marylin Monroe pose, side on to him with legs bent, posterior jutting out and back arched as I pointed one arm toward him and flicked my index finger out I shouted out the last word.

"YOU!"

I giggled deliriously and popped the slippers on my feet and ran out of the room still singing, "Oh, for he is totally gorgeous, for he is totally gorgeous..." Silly and cheesy and I could hear him laughing as I skipped back to the master bedroom across the hall to get my running kit on.

And I was on the absolute top of the world even as my body ached and burned inside.

I was watching the clock again. A quarter past seven. It had taken me an hour to write the words he was now absorbing. Thinking and writing. Thinking and writing. I could have expressed the same underlying content in many different ways, but I was on fire this morning and they tumbled onto the page as if I had always known them in this form. I guessed the whole thing could be read in as little as ten minutes, but I imagined, I hoped he would take longer. That he read for depth and not speed. That he'd read it twice.

There was plenty of time and unless he did something crazy like leave, and I couldn't envisage that happening - I refused to - I'd sit patiently an hour or more if that's how long he needed. I'd be here waiting, as I'd always waited on him. Terrified, enthralled, desperate, contented. There was nothing I couldn't cope with so long as I knew he'd come to me when he was ready. Now he'd be holding the whiskey to his nose, feeling the rich aroma incite his sensations. Holding my letter up to reinforce some particular point in his mind. Dropping his arm to look about his environs, think over the meaning.

"My dearest, sweetest, beloved son,"

"You are everything. You are my entire existence. You own my heart. You possess my soul. You are my very spirit and purpose and reason for being. Every moment of my life has been and will belong to you. I love you and I adore you."

"I know you understand that today is more significant than either of us could have expressed. That already something important has changed, a new dimension has been added to the bond we share."

"Each day since the moment you were conceived I've been in your service. Each day before that I was in preparation to be in your service. You've been the man of the house all your life. Today these things are no longer simply facts but come to blossom as something ripe, something yours to pick."

"You've been prepared and at your word, all that we have will be legally recognised as yours by the world outside this house and actively recognised as yours within it. All of the administrative matters we've been through are documented. You already know how we'll enact those changes. Let it be clear here and now, your say so is the only thing that is required to enact those changes."

"What can now be added, where it wasn't possible before, is to clarify the full extent of these changes, beyond what the law outside of this house would recognise or even accept. There is one item of property in this house which doesn't come with any paper or principle which would stand up in a court of law. This letter is that piece of paper. This letter is that principle. This letter is the fact of your ownership and like everything else, your word constitutes the ownership of this final item."

"Therefore you have a choice to make, as it's always been your choice and not mine to make for you. To accept or reject ownership of and responsibility for the house and its contents, for the various assets attached to it as described in the portfolio, which means everything that until now has been held in my name."

"In order to make that decision it's important to be clear that accepting means that you will from here on make all decisions. My role in making choices about anything involving you and the things you own will end. Until you make clear your will on particular affairs I'll continue as before, but only until then and your say will be final. I will offer experience and advice on your decisions only where you determine that I should do so. In that sense, I will belong to you as much as any other piece of furniture or equipment, any consumable or ornament that you own inside or outside of these walls."

"Even more however, in every other sense I will belong to you just as completely. My mind, spirit and body will be at your complete disposal in any and every possible way, without exception. And I mean without exception. Without judgement, without unsolicited comment even. You will determine what to do with me, how I act, how I spend time, how I am used by you for whatever ends you deem appropriate."

"I cannot overemphasise the totality with which this will apply. I will be your property, your possession, your thing. For ever. You will own me, everything that I am in every possible way will be yours in entirety."

"This is my proffer and my pledge. At your instruction it will be my last act as a nominally free individual and thereafter my existence will be governed as an asset of your estate. As that free individual then, let me finally add that the decision is yours but that it is one I wish for with all that I am, I pray for. I beg you to take me as your subject. I beg you to be my master. I beg you own me."

"With all the love I have as your adoring mother I beg you to take me as your property."

The door handle turned.

It turned and I knew it was almost certainly going to and I knew I'd probably have no warning, his shoes making no noise on the carpet and any rustle of his clothes likely to be missed behind the soft music. Still I expected it and still I turned inside at the motion. The door moved inwards.

This would be the first moment I saw my son, my son the grown up man, since we parted this morning with what I was delighted to hope would be something akin to our new morning routine. As usual, after our run had finished and we'd removed our footwear, we walked up the stairs together, sweaty from the hard last half mile push. As usual his hair mussed and damp patches on his shirt; my sports bra and shorts hiding the sheen well but my skin glistening and my ponytail swept moisture across the middle of my back. We glowed. As usual we parted to go into separate bedrooms, where I'd make use of the en suite, he the main bathroom next door to his bedroom.

Then something distinctly unusual, though by no means at all unwelcome. No sooner had I turned to the right to face the bedroom door than I felt an arm on my right hip, then snake around over my shorts to sit on my right thigh as another arm slid around my left side to rest on my midriff. As I felt his chest press warmly against my shoulders I let my lower back sink into his figure and I let him press us together. A movement to the right of my head and then I felt lips pressing into that side of my neck, just above the collarbone. Parted, hungry for my flesh. A small sucking motion for just a moment and then release. His arms withdrawing as he turned and strode into his room. I didn't turn to look, I simply smiled a delighted little smile to myself and went for my shower.

Our breakfast and TV time was, by contrast, sedate. Perhaps the shower had washed off some of that passion, or perhaps he was teasing now, but as we lay across the sofa with our legs entwined I felt nothing but contentedness from either of us. We went over our plans for the day, particularly what I wanted him to do when he got home in his new suit.

"I'll have left a letter for you in the kitchen. Take it into the living room and have a read through it. When you've finished you'll know what to do."

But when it came time to leave I made sure he'd know his wake up call hadn't been a one-off. Where normally I'd hold my head to his chest, this time I gazed straight into his eyes and used my arms around his neck to pull his head to me, triggering a passionate frenzy of a kiss, at first still then quickly moving against each other, mouths parting and I flicked out with my tongue to feel inside his mouth. Feeling me, he responded and reached out uncertainly with his. I drew lovingly across it, helping him get the feel of using his tongue to duel with me, to challenge me and assert his dominance over me.

His arms pulled my body tight to him and I reciprocated, pressing his head so that our lips and tongues mashed together fiercely. I lifted my left leg and wrapped it outside and around his thigh, letting my right hip fall inwards to massage against his crotch and my overheated sex snap tight to his leg, trying to hold back from humping against it as I melted in my strong, handsome son's embrace. And then he dropped an arm and gave me two rapid swats on the behind in quick succession, using his height to lift his lips from mine, ignoring my whimper in what I would quickly recognise as an impressive feat of self control that only strengthened my feelings of submission and desire.

Not a word and he turned, as usual, to step through the door and from my arms. Again I ached.

All the while he'd been downstairs I'd kept in my position. Staying relaxed through breathing, through the soft, soothing melodies of the music and the lavender and chamomile scents of the candles. And by the vision in the mirrored doors in front of me, continually reinforcing my resolve. This was for him.