Jason and his Mommy Issues

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"Eighteen, wow . . . ahh I have a son, had a son, who was eighteen but it's . . . well, it's complicated."

She heard him take a loud bite of an apple before he said quietly, "Had?"

"Ahh, had, yeah, his father told me he . . . he got killed in a fight with some other boys. He was like in the mental hospital. My Jackson had issues. His middle name was Jason actually. I called him J. J. sometimes . . . but look, it's complicated . . . like I said. I can't talk about that. What about you . . . mother, father. Are they around?"

"Father, no good, Mom . . ."

She heard him sigh deeply before he said, his voice deeply bitter, "She abandon me. No . . . more . . . visits."

"Really. That is so sad. You . . . you wanna talk about it maybe."

After a long drawn out moment of silence he shook his head whispering, "Complicated . . . can't . . . talk."

"OK," she answered. Initially, the simple no was all she planned on saying, but then for some reason she added, "My son, my Jackson would have been eighteen, like you, we have that in common anyways and . . . people who have things in common can become friends. Maybe we can become friends?"

There was another long moment of silence before she heard the large hunting knife, once again, being buried in the trunk of the tree. This time mere inches about her head causing her to let out a small yelp.

"Don't want friends . . . want mommy," he hissed bitterly.

Caught off guard by this sudden turn, Amber took a moment to compose her answer.

She heard him walking away. Feeling she needed to say something, she called out impulsively. "I could be your mommy."

She heard him turn, his heavy footsteps stomping back toward her as she prayed she just didn't just make a huge mistake.

The footsteps stopped before her. There was a brief moment of silence before she heard the sound of him wrenching his knife out of the tree.

Amber let out a small whimper when she felt the sharp point of the knife scrapping along her right cheek.

"You . . . try . . . to trick Jason. Don't . . . really mean . . . t-that."

"No, no . . . I meant it. I mean, why not. You need a mommy . . . I . . . I miss my son, he was your age remember. I miss him terribly. We could . . . I don't know . . . try it."

"Pretend."

She was about to say "yes, pretend," but then snapped her mouth shut after making the decision agreeing on the "pretend" principal might just get her killed.

"No, not pretend. That is not a good word."

What are some good words then genius, her inner voice snapped sarcastically at her?

Spurred on by her inner voice's sarcasm the words just came pouring out of Amber. "It's hard to describe, Jason, but I feel . . . something . . . in my heart for you. Like we were fated to meet. Like this was supposed to happen . . . because you need a mommy and I need a son. God knows this and . . . well when you are out in nature like this . . . out in the wilderness you are closer to God than ever and He knows what I need . . . He knows what you want . . . what we both want and . . ." She paused, shrugging her shoulders. "He sent you to me . . . for me to take care of you . . . just like a good mommy would."

There was now a long drawn out moment of silence. Amber held her breath. She could practically feel his eyes boring a hole through her.

As the silence grew heavier, the tension mounted in her heart. Did she just over play her hand with that little overly dramatic statement of hers?

Her inner voice spoke up, this time devoid of its usual sarcasm. Overly dramatic girl. I think not. I think you spoke the truth. You do feel something for him. You do feel closer to God out here and . . . maybe He did sent you this broken boy . . . to fix . . . both of your hearts.

A chilly breeze ruffled her hair. With the darkness came a precipitous drop in the temperature. Amber shivered as she waited for his response to her dramatic, but yet, her inner voice never lied, truthful statement.

Finally he broke the silence with two simple words that caused a deep stirring of excitement within her. "Mommy's cold."

She felt him first unlock the handcuffs, and then felt his flannel button up shirt being wrapped around her body as she carefully rubbed her wrists. Next, he removed the makeshift blindfold from around her head, allowing her to see once again.

Not surprisingly, his mask was in place once more.

Giving him only a passing glance, she was afraid to look too long as it might raise his suspicions, she noticed he was wearing a thin tee shirt only under his flannel hunting shirt. Without even having to think about it, her motherly instincts kicked in.

"You will be cold without your shirt, hon," she whispered quietly to him.

"Tee shirt . . . OK."

"Hmm . . ." Now free of both the hand cuffs and the blindfold, her mind was whirling with the possibilities, but before she could even think about doing anything remotely stupid, Amber made a suggestion to him when once again, without really thinking, the words just came pouring out.

"Listen, even with your shirt on I'm still a bit cold. Could we maybe build a fire and sit in front of it. I mean, I could let you cuddle me. It would help keep me warm and keeping your mommy warm is something any good son should do . . . right?"

After a moment of silence, he responded, "Sounds nice . . . but . . . no tricks."

"You still don't trust me fully. I have an idea that might help you feel secure."

"Tell."

"How about this, first, you remove my hiking boots and then my shorts. Just leave me my socks. I mean do you really think I would go running off into the woods without any pants on and nothing on my feet but socks. Besides I promise to be good, really good, and a good mother, which I am . . ." She reached out, taking his hand in hers. "Would never lie to her baby boy. I promise not to abandon you."

He stood there saying nothing for a good long moment before finally responding, "Help make fire . . . think about it."

It took a while but Amber was actually growing used to the stilted, hesitant way Jason talked to her. It was almost as if he was too shy to speak to her, meaning one thing in a young man his age: he was attracted to her. Advantage Amber.

Working together, they quickly got a nice fire going. She noticed he basically never took his eyes off of her as they worked on getting the fire started, but was that because he did not wholly trust her? Or better yet, because of something else--like he thought she was pretty and pleasant to look at?

Probably a bit of both, her inner voice assured Amber as the fire was now all set. Also all set was a fresh, new plan in Amber's mind. She came up with it while helping him build the fire and thought it was fairly sound . . . if not a bit daring, and maybe even a little naughty.

"So I was thinking before I take off my shorts and boots maybe you could give me another small drink from that flask of yours."

"You want . . . more whiskey."

"Please and well, just so you know, whiskey tends to make your mom real loose and friendly. I mean, you do want to see my friendly side right hon?

She stepped up closer to him. Reaching out she touched his hand. "It will be better this time . . . you not forcing me to drink."

"Flask . . . in my pack . . . over there."

"I'll get it . . . if you don't mind, so you can keep your eye on me."

Not waiting for her "son's" usual hesitation answer one way or the other, Amber boldly strode across the clearing to his bag. Turning when she reached his backpack, she gave him a fetching smile. "I hope there is enough for a couple big drinks anyways. Enough for you to have some too. In here . . ." She pointed to the main compartment of his backpack.

He nodded his head yes.

She unzipped the compartment, and when the flask was not readily in sight she started digging around to find it. He had several things in his backpack: a flashlight, protein bars, a tee shirt and some socks, chewing gum, a pair of dark boxers, a box of matches, and then just before she found the small silver flask: a pair of panties.

And not just any pair of panties, but one of the two extra pairs of the hip hugger panties she packed for the trip. Predictably, he elected to steal the brighter of the two: her neon green ones.

Resisting the urge to smile, knowing why he must have went through her stuff to pull these out, she filed this little fact away for future use. She discreetly did a half turn, he appeared to be staring down at the ground so hopefully he didn't notice her naughty discovery. She stuffed the panties back into his bag, before straightening up, flask in hand.

Crossing over to him, a warm smile on her face, she asked, "You wanna go first or me."

He pointed at her. She tipped the flask to him before raising it to her lips. Bracing herself, Amber took a hearty swig of the whiskey before trying to hand it to him.

"You again . . . if . . . you want."

Feeling maybe just a little reckless from the previous drink, Amber brought the flask to her mouth again and took a second nice sized drink.

This one did the trick as she staggered slightly while reaching out to hand him the flask.

He quickly stepped forward, grabbing the flask with one hand while using his other on her shoulder to steady her. He helped her over to the log serving as the makeshift bench and then even helped her sit down.

"Boy that stuff is potent."

"Kentucky bourbon. One hundred proof."

She smiled. He seemed to be relaxing around her. That little five word sentence he just rattled off, without hesitating, and without pausing to think, might have been both his quickest and longest response yet.

"One more small sip, and then you help your mom take off her boots and . . ." She paused, giving him an enticing smile before she finished, "Then her shorts."

He held the flask out to her but as she reached for it he pulled it back. "Sure?"

"Yes, I want to . . . you know get tipsy so . . . so we can have fun tonight. Remember I told you drinking whiskey, especially Kentucky bourbon, makes your mommy get real friendly."

She was about to take another drink when she paused. Making her smile disappear and her voice stern, Amber told him, "But I only get real friendly with guys that are super nice to me. Can you be super nice to your mommy sweetheart?"

"Y-yes," he said.

"I hope so . . . coz I wanna get super friendly with you." She tilted the flask to her lips, taking a yet another decent sized swallow.

After taking the flask from her and taking a quick sip or two, he set it aside. Turning to her, he did nothing, seemingly awaiting further instructions. A good sign.

"First my boots." She turned, holding her right leg out to him, not very steadily. The three quick drinks left her feeling a bit dizzy, making it a good thing she was sitting down.

Showing patience, he untied her hiking boots, one at a time, before pulling each off.

Amber climbed to her feet. Reaching out, she placed her hands on his shoulders to steady herself as she stood before him. "Now unzip your mom's shorts hon and pull them down for me."

He looked up at her from his sitting position on the log, seemingly unsure if he should follow her instructions.

"Go ahead, it's alright baby. Remember, we are doing this so you can feel sure I won't go running off."

Showing patience, he carefully unbuttoned, and then unzipped her shorts. After pulling them down to around her knees, Amber struggled out of them the rest of the way. She was wearing a pair of comfortable white briefs, leaving her almost disappointed she wasn't wearing something sexier for his viewing pleasure.

Pushing ahead with her plan, she told him, "Look I want you to be comfortable when we are sitting in front of the fire and I think with your mask on you won't be so I think I just need to put my little blindfold back on."

Not waiting for an answer, Amber grabbed the makeshift blindfold from where she left it on the log. "You better do it. I am a bit too tipsy to get the thing in place properly."

He said nothing as he quickly wrapped the torn piece of her sweatshirt back around her head. After getting the blindfold in place they sat down on the log side by side.

Within a minute or two Amber was already starting to get annoyed. Her plan to make him become deeply attracted to her, thus making it more unlikely he would harm her, was failing. Instead of cuddling her sweetly as they sat on the log in front of the fire, he was just sitting there with his arm stiffly thrown over her shoulder. Worse still, when she tried to scoot a little closer to him, she could feel him tensing up before moving away, just enough, so they would not be tightly cuddling like she wanted.

Desperate for a new plan, Amber finally came up with something wholly reckless and if she wasn't feeling so loose and carefree from the whiskey she wouldn't possessed the courage to suggest such a thing. "Hey Jason, honey, I hate to ask but I have a small favor I was wondering if you could do for your mom."

When he said nothing she charged ahead with her bold plan.

"I got bit up some when I was . . . ahh . . . ahh." She didn't want to exactly bring up how he handcuffed her to the tree so she was searching for another way of saying it. Finally, she came up with something. "As I was resting against the tree earlier the stupid bugs got to me something awful honey. Now I'm kind of itching all over. I have something in my bag that would help though. I always bring a bottle of baby oil with a few drops of lavender in it to help soothe and protect against bug bites. Would you mind very much rubbing some where the bugs got to your mother, honey."

After a long pause, he said quietly, "Maybe . . . better you."

"I . . . well I would but I am a bit tipsy and would probably just make a mess and end up wasting most of it. Besides I have the blindfold on remember. And actually I . . . don't laugh . . . but I just want to see if you would be willing to be a good son that pampers his mom by doing such a thing for her?"

There was again the usual pause before he responded. "Jason will do it . . . for mom."

"Good. The bottle of oil is in my backpack. The small zipper compartment on the left OK."

When she heard him moving toward her backpack she stripped off his flannel button up shirt.

Bottle in hand, Jason moved back toward her. Seeing she took off his shirt he said, "No . . . more . . . cold."

"No, not really, sitting in front of the fire warmed me up. Beside your shirt will just be in the way."

Throwing one leg over the log, straddling it, Amber patted the log behind her. "Here sit like this . . . here. It will be easier I think."

Once she felt him settle himself down beside her, she leaned back against him. "Now just pour a little of the oil out on both your hands Jason and then I will tell you where to rub the oil on me."

"OK . . . ready," he told her after dumping a decent amount of the oil on both of his hands.

"Now why don't you start with your mom's arms sweetie, using both hands?"

He patiently rubbed up and down her bare arms several times as she closed her eyes and relaxed against him. The careful, gentle, and almost shy way he was rubbing the lotion in, gave her the confidence her plan might bear fruit.

After allowing him several swipes up and down her arms she spoke up. "Time to move on baby. Do your mommy's tummy next . . . all over."

Again, he moved his hands both gently and nervously all around her taunt belly. She liked how he shyly veered away from going too high-- near her breasts-- which played perfectly into the scenario she was playing out in her mind.

The scenario the imaginative Amber was playing in her mind was simple and innocent: he was really her son--her sweet, innocent son--and would never so much as consider harming her. This little fantasy scenario of hers, helped relax her and made her feel as if she was in control.

"Do mommy's thighs next, Jason, but first hand me the bottle of baby oil," she whispered. After taking the bottle from him, she carefully dumped, with his help, some more of the blended baby oil on the palms of both of his hands.

He slowly let his hands slip down across her hips, and onto her thighs, one hand on each. Amber, ready to push things up to the next level, allowed him a few tentative, nervous swipes up and down the middle of her thighs before she decided to take charge of things. Reaching down, she covered both of his hands with hers as she whispered, "Let Mommy help hon."

Using a pair of firm hands over his, she guided them up and down, moving in small circles, making sure to cover the entirety of her nice, firm thighs. As she slowly pushed his hands north toward the very edge of her panties she felt him beginning to squirm nervously--just as she hoped.

She spread her legs just a bit wider while pushing his hands up higher on her inner thighs until they were bumping up against the edge of her panties. His squirming increased. Tenfold.

Wrapping her hands around his, she pushed them up onto her tummy and toward her beckoning hills, knowing it was the whiskey talking, she whispered a little white lie to him.

"Hmm, honey, you know those stupid bugs . . . a couple of them got under your mommy's shirt and kind of bit her there . . . on her chest. Can you rub some lotion there . . . please honey. It really itches."

He said nothing but didn't resist as she continued to guide his hands up. Pausing before her blouse she whispered further instructions, "Can you unbutton your mom's shirt Jason a bit more . . . it will be easier that way for you to rub the oil on the itchy spots."

Amber leaned back, concentrating not on the dangerous game she was playing, but instead on the shy, tentative way he was undoing the first two of the four buttons she planned on having him undo. Oh yes, she was going all the way when it came to having him undo the buttons on her white blouse: all the way to where the shirt was knotted/tied in the center just below her prodigious breasts.

"Go on baby, undo the other two buttons . . . otherwise you won't be able to get at where the bugs were nipping at my chest."

She sighed as the other two buttons came undone. "Here . . . let's get a little more oil on the tips of your fingers first before we start. Put the bottle in my hand and then hold out both your index finger and your middle finger on both your hands, baby. Now mommy is going to lift her blindfold for just a minute. Just so she can see to pour the oil on your fingers sweetie. I won't turn around and try to look at you. Is that OK?"

"Yes," he replied after a long pause. "Promise?"

"Yes, yes, no looking," she said impatiently as she lifted the blindfold up.

She quickly dumped a small amount of the oil on both sets of his fingers before she hurriedly adjusted the blindfold back in place.

"Now let me guide the tips of your fingers where they need to apply the oil honey . . . so just relax and hold those two fingers out straight."

Gripping his hands tightly, she guided them to the center of her chest, just below her collar bone.

With her hands as guides, Jason slowly slipped his extended fingers down ever so slowly, ever so patiently, directly down and across her chest until they were in between the twin peaks of her breasts.

"You're doing good hon," she whispered, her excitement growing as she continued-- it had to be the whiskey-- with her unbelievably wicked plan to seduce him.

Simultaneously, she gently prodded his fingers outward from the center of her chest until they slipped under her open blouse and bumped up against the sides of her breasts.

"Just a bit further now," she said quietly as his fingers on both hands patiently climbed the sides of her breasts.

Nudging his fingers further under her open blouse, she continued to ever so gently guide his fingers to their ultimate goal: her waiting nipples.