Love Around the World 18: Reykjavik

A/N - Time to revisit this category with a different pairing. One of the very first stories I wrote for this website was about a mother and son romance, and while not everyone's cup of tea, when it comes to this category, it's either a mother / son or a brother / sister romance that are my preferences to write.

Previous stories in this series:

Love Around the World - Andorra (Mature)

Love Around the World - Bangkok, Thailand (Interracial)

Love Around the World - Colombia (Transgender)

Love Around the World - Dresden, Germany (Romance)

Love Around the World - Estonia (Group Sex)

Love Around the World - France (Anal)

Love Around the World - Guangzhou, China (Interracial)

Love Around the World - Hungary (Incest)

Love Around the World - India (Interracial)

Love Around the World - Japan (Mature)

Love Around the World - København, Denmark (Transgender)

Love Around the World - London, England (Transgender)

Love Around the World - Montenegro (Mature)

Love Around the World - Nepal (Romance)

Love Around the World - Oviedo, Spain (Incest)

Love Around the World - Phnom Penh, Cambodia (Incest)

Love Around the World - Quezon City, Philippines (Transgender)

Australian / British standard English. There is a good chance of reading the following: lots of profanity, characters drinking, typos, and bad grammar at times.

Proofreading and editing suggestions provided by OhDave1. Any mistakes are still mine.

Comments are appreciated as always.

Feedback by email is always welcome. Enjoy chatting with anyone who likes my work.

*****

A son and mother enjoy a holiday together.

*****

Growing up as an only child did have its advantages though it was also tinged with sadness. My mother had fallen pregnant with me at a young age, and my father was a much older man. It was the subject of plenty of gossip around the neighbourhood as my father was over ten years older than my mother and she was only eighteen when she fell pregnant and then gave birth to me.

The sadness is that it was not an easy pregnancy for her, and although she carried me to term and I was a happy and healthy baby, something else developed within her body which meant that she could not have any further children.

Mum was completely and utterly devoted to raising her little boy. The love I felt when growing up ensured I grew up a healthy young boy in tune with his emotional and physical development. While Mum may have spoiled me from time to time, she made sure I didn't end up an entitled little boy at the same time. I didn't always get what I wanted, and as I got older, I had to earn particular things by helping around the house.

But there was no missing how close I was to my mother. She would wake me most mornings by sitting on the edge of the bed and kissing my cheek, her hand running over my head as she whispered for me to wake up. She would always ensure that I would hug and kiss her before I went to bed. When I was a little boy, there was nothing better than hugs with Mum. I grew up having no problem expressing my love for my mother as much as she told me every single day how much she loved me.

And this continued even when I started puberty, my body started to develop, and hormones started to rage.

As for my father, it was clear to me that he had next to no time for me. He did marry my mother though I knew it was out of a sense of obligation rather than any real love. He took no interest in anything I was doing at school or outside of it. Yes, he did meet his financial obligations towards me, but there was no love. The only love I got was from my mother and my grandparents. I included my paternal grandparents as I was their only grandchild and they absolutely loved me as much as my mother.

I was sixteen when I arrived home from school to find my mother sitting on the couch with a box of tissues and it was obvious that she was upset. Dropping my bag and sitting next to her, I'd just gone through a significant growth spurt and now towered over her petite five-two stature. As soon as I had my arms around her, she fell apart, barely able to understand a word she was saying.

"I love you, Mum," I whispered. I was sixteen and not emotionally equipped to deal with a distraught mother. I thought letting her know that would help her.

It did help as she hugged me tighter and she slowly calmed down. Snuggling against me for a few minutes, she eventually leaned back to meet my eyes, her blue eyes sparkling behind the lenses of her glasses. She'd always worn them for as long as I could remember. She pulled off the sultry secretary look from time to time given her position at a nearby company.

"What's wrong, Mum?"

"Your father," she spat, "I know he's never really loved me. He knocked me up at eighteen and was pressured to marry me. You know how much older he is than me. Not enough for him to get in trouble, but I was a naïve young woman and he... Well..."

"But what's he done?"

"I've never cheated on him, Mark," she insisted. She didn't have to tell me. I trusted my mother completely. "He's..." She trailed off and shook her head, snuggling against me. "I know he's your father..."

"Mum, I've never been blind to the fact he doesn't really care about either of us. We've got the material things, but I've never really thought he loved me as a son."

"Oh, baby..."

"It's fine, Mum, because I've always had you."

That earned a soft kiss on the cheek. "My handsome young man is getting his favourite meal tonight. As for your father... He's going to be moving out on the weekend to live with his mistress at the apartment he's organised for them."

"Let me guess, a younger woman?"

"It's disgusting... I'm thirty-four, he's forty-eight. His mistress is twenty..."

"Really?"

"You know his good friend Dave? Your father's mistress is Dave's daughter." I didn't know what to say to that. "I'm not sure Dave even knows. He's going to know when his daughter moves in with him."

I didn't see my father all that much over the next couple of days before the weekend. We had next to nothing to do with each other anyway. It was Mum who organised my life and looked after me. Hell, it was obvious he gave less than a shit about anything to do with the house, so I was the one who mowed the front and back lawns and helped Mum out with chores.

As it was early spring, I was still playing sports on Saturday. Getting ready in my bedroom, I heard conversation coming from the living room, I walked out barefoot to find my father with a couple of suitcases next to him as Mum stood with her back to me. Coming up behind her and placing my hands on her shoulders, she leaned back against me as I wrapped my arms around her.

"What's going on?" I asked. I rarely called him 'Dad'. He didn't deserve the title.

"I'm leaving, Mark," he replied, "I've given up sixteen years of my life for you and your mother. I won't be doing that a day longer. The house is paid off and I will transfer the deed into your mother's name. It's her responsibility now."

"Where are you going?"

"Doesn't concern you. Sophie, I know you're going to ask about child support during the inevitable support period. I will transfer a few hundred dollars a week until custody is sorted out during the divorce settlement. I know I'll be paying spousal support. I don't really care about that as I can afford it, and despite what you might think, I don't want to see either of you on the street. I might not love either of you, but I'm not an arsehole."

"Gee, thanks, Peter," I stated.

He met my eyes, and he would have been able to read my thoughts and feelings quite easily. Nodding that he understood, he didn't say another word as he wheeled his two suitcases out to his car. Walking back inside, he placed a couple of keys down on the coffee table, and mentioned to my mother that he'd looked into a separation agreement, hoping to sort out most financials before the divorce was rubber-stamped in a year's time.

To my surprise, Mum wasn't all that upset once he was gone. She'd been upset to learn about his cheating, but she sat me down that evening and explained that her love for him had always been one of gratitude rather than actually being in love with him.

By the time my eighteenth birthday approached, my mother was a thirty-six-year-old single mother, now divorced though she never seemed happier. Once my father was out of the picture, her entire life came down to four things. Her job, which she did enjoy. The house, which we made changes to once my father was gone. Her family, as both sets of grandparents were always available to help out, and she had an older sister who was almost like a second mother to me. And then there was me, and I knew my role as the most important person in her life by a long way.

Mum came out well in the divorce. She got the house. Dad had to pay some child support. And when it came to spousal support, instead of just paying her weekly or monthly, he wrote out a cheque for a considerable sum of cash, stating that it would make their split far easier on both of them. After he moved out, the only time I saw my father was in court during the divorce and then the custody hearing. He showed next to no interest in my life, so when it came to visitation, I said I wasn't particularly interested in him in return.

"What do you want to do for your birthday, baby?" Mum had asked a couple of days before the big day that I'd become an adult.

"Dinner and drinks out with my favourite girl," I replied, making her blush immediately before she walked out and cuddled into my side while I sat at my desk.

"Is there anything you'd really love to do?"

"Nothing I can ask for an eighteenth birthday present."

"Ah, you mean the travelling that you're always talking about."

"I can't go asking for an airfare to Europe or something. And I do have a job lined up to start after Christmas."

"No interest in university?"

"You know I'm good with my hands, and Grandad and Pop are always around to help tinker with my car."

"I know it's a shitbox, baby..."

"But it's mine, Mum. And you bought it for me, so I love it."

"So dinner and drinks with your mother on your birthday? Is that all you want?"

"I'll do something with my friends at the weekend. For the day itself, there's only one person I want to spend the day with most of all though I guess the grandparents and my aunt..."

On the day of my birthday, Mum woke me up with the usual soft kiss on the cheek as she sat on the edge of my bed. Waking up and immediately smiling, she was wearing a short robe that showed off her fantastic legs and there was a little cleavage on display that I couldn't help looking at. Mum smiled as she leaned down and kissed me on the cheek again.

"My little boy is now a man," she whispered, feeling her move so she could lay down next to me, her blue eyes gazing up at me with that same love I'd seen my entire life, "I love you so much, Mark. You've always been and will always be my reason for living."

"Totally taking my mother out on a birthday date now," I replied, turning onto my side and giving her a look, making her shriek when I started to tickle her. Given how I'd developed, I was strong enough to hold her in place as my fingers found all her ticklish spots.

"Stop!" she cried out, "Stop, Mark!"

"To make me stop, you must pay the toll, Mum."

I stopped tickling her as she smiled shyly before leaving a soft kiss on my cheek. "You're a naughty young man sometimes..."

As it was my birthday, she cooked me breakfast on a school morning. Not something she did except on a weekend. I usually just had toast or cereal, eating it quickly before I took off for school. Mum had bacon, eggs, baked beans and all the trimmings ready, sitting down together at the table.

"I've made reservations at Tali's Steakhouse," she told me, "I knew that's where you'd want to go. After that, I'm figuring a pub or two, maybe a bar... Care to dance with your mother?"

"Sure, not that I really know how to."

"All you do is hold me in your arms and sway."

My friends were all asking about my plans during my day at school. I was staring down the barrel of our end-of-year exams that were only a month away. Letting them know that it was just going to be a night with my mother, my three friends all shared glances and smiled at me.

"Your mother is hot, mate," Mike stated, "No wonder you love spending time with her."

"It's not like that," I stated.

"Mate, you know my mother is single and I think she's, you know, looking at me in a certain manner now," he replied, "And I would never say no to my mother."

"Seriously?"

"Absolutely."

Steve nodded in agreement. "Mum's started sneaking into my bed the last few weeks. The first few times, she waited until I was asleep, and I'd wake up to find her snuggling against me. The first time she knocked on the door and opened it to reveal her standing in just a short nightdress, I simply smiled and threw back the covers. Feeling her snuggling against me, looking at me like I'm sure your mothers look at you, guys, I was so fucking hard..."

"Done anything with her?" Daniel wondered.

"She's masturbated a few times next to me while she thought I was asleep." He paused and then blushed a little bit. "She'd moan my name when climaxing. I nearly cum each time without touching myself."

"What about you, Mike?" I asked.

"Given what I had to sort out regarding my father..."

"Did he raise hands again?"

"Dragged him out to his car and nearly beat the shit out of him. Given I was already bigger and stronger than him, and then I told my grandparents what was going on, even his own mother and father disowned him, while my mother's parents just asked me to look after Mum. I see how she looks at me now like I'm some sort of hero. She's my mother... Who would I love more?"

"Guess this might explain why we're all single," I joked.

"I know it's weird," Steve stated, "I mean, I think Mum's just really lonely and I'm the only man in her life who constantly tells her that I love her, how beautiful she is, how important she is to me..." He trailed off and started to look emotional, Daniel resting a hand on his shoulder. "Love her so much that I just want her to be happy."

"And you think it might be in intimacy with you?" Mike wondered.

"I know it's wrong. Most people just won't understand..." Steve trailed off and sighed.

"I do, mate," I said softly, "I don't even look at the girls around us. There's only one woman in my life. Well, maybe two if we consider my Aunt Stephanie. She's unhappily married and would probably love an affair with her younger nephew."

This wasn't a new conversation. The four of us had long admitted to an attraction to our mothers. Probably why we were such close friends. We were also realistic about things. Mothers and sons did not have intimate relationships. There were laws about such things. It wasn't just illegal. It went against nearly every rule in the book.

Home before my mother as always, I focused on my homework until I felt her presence next to me. Rising to my feet, she pressed her body into mine as I cuddled her, her head resting against my chest. She didn't say a word for a few minutes as our cuddles had grown longer and longer upon her arrival home.

"I'll shower and get dressed, baby," she finally said.

Mum had a small bathroom next to her bedroom, so I had full reign over the main bathroom. After shaving and showering, I was looking through my wardrobe for something to wear when I heard my mother calling out. I felt my jaw drop when I stood in the doorway to see her wearing the sexiest lingerie I'd ever seen. The black bra was low-cut and barely covered her nipples. The panties were sheer, and I could see the patch of dark pubic hair above her pussy. The garter belt and black thigh-high stockings... I couldn't help gazing at the vision of beauty.

Mum couldn't help smiling at my reaction as she handed me her necklace. "Can you help me, baby?" she asked softly.

Turning around, I lifted her brunette hair out of the way as I helped her with the necklace. Once it was in place, I ran my hands down to her shoulders and carefully down her body until my hands rested over her soft belly. Mum kept fit though she didn't have the tone of a few years previously. She had a lovely little figure that totally aroused me.

"What do you think, baby?"

"You're the sexiest woman on the planet, Mum."

"Going to wear a little black dress and have all the tongues wagging that I'm going to be on the arm of my handsome young man tonight." She turned around, my hands ending up cupping her pert little bottom. "Mark, call me Sophie tonight."

"What?"

"It's your birthday and I'm your date. Call me Sophie."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure." She paused and placed a hand on my chest. "We're going to have a wonderful night, baby. And as long as you're not too drunk tonight, I want to end the night snuggling with my son."

"Really?"

"I've slept alone every night since he left. I don't want to sleep alone anymore. Can you handle sleeping in the same bed as your mother?"

"Sure."

"Good. Then it's snuggling tonight if you behave."

I behaved and had the joy of being led to my mother's bedroom that evening. Mum disappeared to her bedroom, returning after a few minutes wearing a sheer teddy that showed off her breasts though she was wearing a pair of panties. Sliding into bed next to me, she gently placed a hand on my cheek, turning my head and kissing me softly on the lips.

"You make me feel so sexy, baby," she whispered, "I know this might not be entirely appropriate, but you make me feel confident in my body that I just feel I need to show it off for someone special."

"I'm not complaining, Mum," I assured her.

Mum didn't invite me to her bedroom all that often after that, at least while I was still in high school. After my exams were finished, I had a month or so to waste until Christmas and the New Year period before I started work in January. To keep myself occupied, I offered to do a few things around the house. Most rooms needed some painting. The kitchen could do with some work, as did the bathroom. I was handy with tools thanks to my two grandfathers.

I was rewarded for all my hard work with Mum cooking some of my favourite meals or taking me out to dinner. And I started to spend more and more time being invited to join her in bed. Mum was sexy with whatever she wore, but I didn't miss that she had some very short robes and nightdresses which she would wear with nothing underneath that allowed me to view her body in the correct light... And sometimes she'd just wear a bra and panties that allowed my fingers to touch all her exposed skin.

It was a couple of nights before Christmas as she snuggled into me, her fingers running up and down my chest. "I'm sorry for arousing you all the time," she whispered, giggling to herself. My arousal was obvious due to the tent in the sheet. It was rather warm as summer was in full swing. "I try not to mention when I feel you poking me in the morning."

"It is natural, at least in the morning."

"I know, baby. It makes me feel good though. But seeing you hard now..."

"I do have a mostly naked woman in bed with me."

Turning my head, she smiled lovingly at me before kissing me softly on the lips. She'd been doing that more and more lately, each kiss lasting a little longer each time. When she pulled back, she seemed so genuinely happy that I raised my hand to gently run my fingers down her cheek. Leaning forward to kiss her, I rolled onto my side and ran my hand down her back, pulling her gently into me.