Lingerie Intimacy with My Son

A pause.

"I felt his sampling me at different parts. He would stand-up my pubic strands here and there to determine their length. I could feel gentle tugging. Oh dear, was all this really necessary?"

A pause. Bated breath.

"He asked me to open my legs a little. I sensed he moved nearer. His finger ranged over my thicket. It was like he was examining my texture. Like he was feeling up the texture of a tapestry in a luxury carpet shop. He ran his finger this way and that, parsing me, to analyse my pubic constitution. I could feel his breath."

I observed from the corner of my eye Ethan's right hand cupping his groin, as if in futile effort to contain the pleasure throbbing through his quivering flesh. I saw an emerging glisten of granule on his head.

"After a long while, Seb said he was done. He said he liked the way I was put together there. I thought that was a strange thing for a son to observe and say to his mum. That his mum was a jigsaw puzzle of a cat?"

I stalked to the bed. Cameled my back. Ethan looked at the arc before him...

"Mummy's home..."

He gave me a look that said he belonged there.

***

Epilogue

My cell phone chimed. The ringtone I had set for him. An urgent, yet velvety shrill. Characteristic of him. A message.

"Coffee? Café at the park. Friday, tenish?"

"OK"

"I want to see you."

"Huh?"

"I want to see you... again."

"Oh?"

"Yes"

"Hmm..."

***

I stepped into the café. Ordered an espresso from the counter. Found a two-seater table at a bay window corner at the back of the shop. I crossed my legs.

He entered the café. He scanned. I looked away, lowered my head and recrossed my legs slowly, being careful not to bump the leg of the small table.

When I looked up, he was gazing straight at me with a slightly questioning, fascinated look. He strode to my table. We held each other's eyes. A knowing smile crept across his face as he saw one appeared on mine. We exchanged custom pleasantries.

"You are, aren't you?"

I said nothing.

He gazed round to see whether anyone was close.

Softly, but assertively, "Show me."

A command. He was no longer a son. More like a big bro. And he had the size and wherewithal to back that up.

I blushed. And then, a deeper flare of rouge. Almost ruddy now.

He observed me. My bare arms. Erect back. The tilt of my elfin chin as if I was tucking a violin under it. The curve of my bosom silhouetted against the bay window. The wind from the patio rustling my hair.

He ordered his coffee. Gulped the murderously black and concentrated thick brew. The sludge must have roasted his insides. He appeared to relish the burn.

He looked at me again. He ran a finger around the lip of his coffee cup. I moved a little. I looked at him look at me.

We talked a little.

The End