Love of a Mother

I started looking from as far away as possible, and only slowly sidling closer to Mom's bed. If it was anywhere, it would probably be obvious and on top of something. I didn't remember seeing it on her bed or nightstand when I'd brought her in earlier, and I wasn't sure where else that left.

Mom shifted slightly in her bed. I froze in place as though that would somehow help me if she had awakened. Fortunately, she seemed to still be asleep. Her covers had been pushed down almost to her waist at some point. Even in the dark I could make out the curve of her breasts. I was growing to hate the bizarre fixation I had with them lately.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I finally spotted the laptop. It was on the floor beside the bed, which was why I hadn't seen it at first. I had to sneak even closer to Mom to get to it, but I was almost home free and was feeling relieved that it was almost over.

Mom's mattress creaked, and once again I froze in place. This time I somehow knew that I wasn't going to be as lucky.

"Sorry to wake you," I whispered, hoping she couldn't see what I'd picked up off of the floor as I stood up.

"Mmggh. What time is it?" Mom mumbled sleepily.

"Late. Middle of the night. Just had to get something."

Mom frowned and peered closer at the laptop that I was desperately trying to hold behind my body in a nonchalant manner. Her expression abruptly changed as she realized what I had in my hand.

"Oh," she said. "Guess I shouldn't have had it in here, huh?"

"That's okay," I said. "I just, uh... wanted to check something."

It was so hard to tell what she was thinking when I couldn't see her face all that well. Her voice wasn't giving me very many clues either.

"You should really have your own computer," Mom said. "I keep thinking about it, but... I don't know. It just doesn't seem to happen."

"Well, they are expensive. It's not like I really need my own."

"But it'd be easier," Mom said softly. "Wouldn't it?"

"What?"

"Sweetie... I've tried very hard not to ever talk about this sort of thing, but I hate that you think you have to sneak around so much. I can't help feeling like I'm holding back your development somehow. You can have the laptop anytime you want it. I promise I won't check what sites you've been on or anything."

I blushed fiercely, but at least it wasn't as obvious in the darkened room as it would have under normal lighting.

"I... it's not... I just wanted..."

"Please don't be upset. That's not what I want."

"Well I don't know what else to be."

I felt alone and trapped, even though I was neither of those things. I wanted to throw the laptop down and get out of the room as fast as possible, but I couldn't seem to make myself move.

"Come here, honey," Mom said, holding out her hand to me.

I took her hand and let her guide me to sit on the edge of the bed. She sat up straighter and pushed her hair back.

"I don't look at that stuff much," I said defensively, despite not having been directly accused.

"I know. That's what worries me sometimes. You don't bring girls home very often, and you don't look at... 'things'... on the internet much either, unless you're just very good at hiding it. I'm worried it's my fault."

"It's not... I don't... I'm not sure what conversation we're having."

Mom smiled sadly and clasped my hand between both of hers. She had to think about her next words for a moment. I realized that she was just as lost as I was.

"Boys masturbate," Mom said. "You don't want to hear me say it, but we both know it. I don't want you to feel like you can't."

"Mom-"

"Shush. If you're going to tell me you don't, I'll save you some time and tell you right now that you're full of shit."

"Language," I said absently, feeling a brief spark of amusement in my otherwise nervous and uncertain mind.

Mom smiled faintly at being rebuked for her choice of wording. Somehow the tension between us dropped slightly, though not by enough for me to be comfortable.

"Look," she said, "all I'm saying is you should do what you want to do. I'm not here to make sure you stay innocent and pure. All I want is for you to grow up healthy and capable of functioning in the real world."

"Some people think mastur- some people think it's not healthy," I said. "Or that it's not right. Or something."

"Is that what you think?"

"I... no."

"Do you think that's the sort of thing that I secretly think?"

"Probably not."

"Good. So take the laptop and we won't talk about this anymore. Unless you want to, but I very much doubt that's going to happen."

"Um, okay. Thanks, I think."

"You're welcome. Good night, sweetie."

"Night, Mom."

****

I felt like I was waking up from a very realistic dream the next morning. The talk I'd had with Mom the night before felt like it had all been in my head. She didn't act any differently around me, nor did she so much as hint at the conversation we'd had. I expected something to have changed between us, but it seemed like that wasn't the case. It was all a little too surreal for me to deal with so early in the day.

"Any plans for the day?" Mom asked me as she sipped on her coffee.

"Um, no, not really," I said. "Just kind of the usual."

She nodded and took a bite of toast. I grabbed a package of store-bought muffins and my own cup of coffee and sat down at the breakfast table with her. I took one of the muffins out and started eating. I didn't really taste anything as I ate, but I knew if I didn't eat that Mom would only worry.

"I might be home a little bit late tonight," Mom said. "I'll call you if it's anything more than an hour."

I nodded and took another bite of my muffin. I couldn't quite manage to look her in the eyes. I kind of wanted to avoid further conversation, but something had been bugging me.

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"How come you haven't had a boyfriend or anything since Dad's been gone?"

Mom frowned and held her mug in front of her mouth. I knew it wasn't the sort of question I should be asking, but hopefully she wouldn't mind too much.

"Where is this coming from?" she asked.

"Last night," I said. "You said something about how I don't bring girls home and, well, you don't bring guys home either. Is it 'cause of me?"

"Oh, sweetie..." she said, reaching over to take my hand. "It's not you. I mean, not the way you're probably thinking. I just don't feel the need to have another man around when I have you."

"That sounds like the sort of thing a mother has to say."

"Maybe it is. That doesn't mean it's not the truth."

"Well... okay. I guess."

Mom smiled and kissed my cheek as she stood up.

"I need to go get ready for work. We can talk more this evening if you want to."

"That's all I wanted to know. I'll see you tonight."

I let the subject drop as Mom left, but I didn't stop thinking about it. I knew there was more to the story than she would ever let on. She couldn't possibly have substituted any and all romantic aspirations for the love of her child. Even if I took priority, there must have been other needs and desires buried deep within her. It pained me to think that I might be holding back her happiness in some way.

All Mom ever seemed to worry about was my well-being. Someone needed to worry about hers.

****

I got a call from Mom that afternoon to tell me she'd be home around six-thirty. Since I knew I had the apartment to myself for a while, I was kind of tempted to find some porn on the laptop and jerk off. Last night had just been too weird for me to enjoy it properly, but some of the residual awkwardness had faded a little.

Unfortunately, I couldn't seem to shake the idea that Mom would somehow know if I decided to take care of myself in that way. Even if she didn't mind, it was disconcerting to think that she knew more about my masturbation habits than I'd assumed. It made me wonder what the obvious clues were. Obviously some of things I'd always worried about must have been justified. I was more paranoid than ever about closing my bedroom door, or taking a long shower, or even just of using the laptop.

It was silly to think about things that way. Mom wanted me to deal with my needs, and she clearly knew what that entailed. It wasn't like things could get any more awkward, short of her actually walking in on me or something. My best option was probably to keep masturbating as usual and try to get used to the idea that it wasn't as much of a secret as I liked to pretend it was. It was possible that I could get used to the situation.

In the end, I didn't jerk off. Instead I redirected my thoughts by making supper. Mom did most of the cooking, but I was competent enough to manage some basic meals on my own. Anything that didn't require carefully following a recipie was generally within my ability.

Mom got home a few minutes before supper was ready. She smiled when she saw me standing by the stove.

"Aw, thanks, sweetie," she said, walking up behind me and kissing me on the cheek. "I was wondering what I was going to do about supper, but I guess I don't have to."

"Yeah, well... you had to work late and all," I said, flushing slightly. "Thought I could take care of this."

I didn't mention that it was also a convenient distraction for me.

"This is how you get the girls, you know," she said, hugging me from behind. "Cooking for them after they've had a long day... it's so nice to come home to."

"Um... I'll keep that in mind."

"Sorry, I'm embarrassing you again, aren't I?"

"A little."

She ruffled my hair affectionately.

"You know it's only 'cause I love you, right?"

"So I've been led to believe."

Mom hugged me again, then went off to the bathroom. I sighed and shook my head. I needed to sort some things out, that was clear to me. Beyond that I was at a loss.

****

Mom and I watched a movie that evening. Or, more accurately, she watched it and I stared blankly at the TV while I got lost in my own little world. I was in such a weird place in regard to my relationship with my mother. I loved her and I wanted to spend time with her, but I also felt a certain amount of unease around her. I wanted things to go back to normal, but I didn't know how to make that happen.

My lack of proper sleep the night before gradually caught up to me as I sat there on the couch. I was tired, though not quite tired enough to give up and go to bed. I shifted around to get more comfortable a few times. Without really being aware of it, I ended up getting closer to Mom in the process. I was leaning on her slightly, but most of my weight was against the back of the couch.

"Do you want to stop for now and finish the rest of the movie tomorrow?" Mom asked softly. "You look tired."

"I'm fine," I said. "I'm kind of tired, but I'm not quite ready for bed."

Mom nodded and let the subject drop. She moved her arm around behind me so she could reach my head. She started gently stroking my hair while we sat together. The contact evoked a faint pang of nostalgia. We used to sit together like that a lot when I was younger; I'd cuddle up to Mom and she'd toy with my hair affectionately. Things like that had gotten rarer as I grew up and began wanting my space.

Despite my recent feelings of uncertainty regarding my mother, I was remarkably content with our current seating arrangement. It was as though the awkwardness of the past few days had never happened. Maybe all I'd needed was a physical reminder that nothing had actually changed between us and that it was all in my head.

I snuggled even closer to Mom and let her put her arm around me. Being held by her made me feel safe. My arbitrary worries and fears couldn't compete with my ingrained reactions to the one person in the world who loved me unconditionally.

I was lulled toward sleep as I sat nestled in my mother's partial embrace. My eyelids drooped, and my neck grew tired of holding my head up. I nodded forward slightly, and my face shifted from resting on Mom's shoulder to her upper chest. I felt the softness of her breast against my chin.

"You can go to bed," Mom whispered. "I won't mind."

"Maybe I should," I mumbled. "But I don't want to."

She smiled. "Just like when you were younger. You never wanted to go to bed. You'd just cuddle up to me because you knew I had too much of a soft spot for you. It's always been hard to say no to you."

Mom kissed the top of my head. I felt the need to reciprocate, so I lifted my head long enough to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. When I resumed my resting position, my head slipped even lower. I was making far too much contact with her breast, but I didn't want to go back to sitting normally.

"You always just want me to be happy," I said. "Always. I want to make you happy too, but I never know how."

"You make me happy just being you," she said.

"That's another one of your 'mother' responses."

"That's what I am. I can't help it."

"You're more than that. You need other things too."

"Well... maybe. They're not as important though."

I looked up directly into my mother's eyes. She flushed slightly at the intensity of my gaze. It was strange how I suddenly felt as though I understood her better than ever before, despite my not-fully-lucid state. Or perhaps it was precisely because of that state of incomplete consciousness that my mind went to the places it did.

I moved my hand to Mom's breast, the one I hadn't been using as a pillow. She maintained eye contact, though her lips parted slightly as she sucked in a quick breath.

"It shouldn't all be about me," I said. "I know it is, but it shouldn't be."

"That's just the way things are," she said.

"They don't have to be that way."

"Honey, you're tired. I don't want you to do anything you regret later."

Mom's hand moved to cover mine, but she didn't try to pull me away from her chest. Maybe she was forcing us both to acknowledge what I was doing.

"I won't regret anything."

"Yes you will. I know you. A little indirect conversation about porn is enough to make you feel awkward around me."

"Well... I know better now."

I squeezed her breast gently, forcing a faint gasp from her lips, and I noticed she wasn't wearing a bra. My mind was disturbingly clear and focused. I knew what I was doing, even if she didn't believe it.

"Please stop, sweetie. You're going to feel so bad about this tomorrow."

"You're making this about me again. Why is it never about you?"

Mom finally pulled my hand away from her chest. She took me in her arms and cradled me in a very motherly way. She didn't know what to do with me, and I suddenly felt bad for putting her in that sort of position. I relaxed into her embrace and sank down so that I was lying across the couch with my upper body in her lap. I didn't want Mom to feel bad, I wanted her to be happy, just like what she wanted for me.

"What am I going to do with you?" she whispered.

I shrugged and didn't answer. I didn't even know what the answer was.

I nuzzled Mom's breasts through her shirt as she held me to her. I was done trying to pretend they didn't exist. My instincts as her son and my sexual reactions were both telling me the same thing. The voice of morality in my head sounded small and distant in comparison.

"Are you really telling me there's nothing more you want from your life?" I asked. "You're perfectly happy with everything?"

"This... this isn't the right way to help me," she said.

I opened my mouth and sucked gently on the part of her shirt that I guessed covered one of her nipples. Mostly I just tasted shirt, but it was more of a symbolic gesture than anything.

Mom didn't want to admit it, but she needed this. She loved me too much, she always had. I was the only guy in her life and that made things complicated. It was a lot of pressure on me to be everything for her, but she'd spent so long being everything for me that I had to try.

"You're so much like you're father," she said in a small voice. "In so many ways. I... I don't know what to do."

"Yes you do."

Mom shook her head, but the gesture soon turned into a sigh of resignation. She wanted to fight her desires and continue to argue with me, but I was winning. She pulled her shirt up over her breasts, baring them to me, then lifted my head into a nursing position. I closed my eyes and latched on to her nipple with nothing between us this time.

The change was immediate and overwhelming. Mom's breasts were so warm and soft, and direct physical contact with them awakened desires from deep within me. My body knew what to do without any input from my brain. My cock began to come to life in my pants.

"I tried so hard to be a good mother," Mom said. "I wanted to take care of you."

"You did a good job," I said, my voice muffled slightly. "Maybe you did too good of a job. I think somehow I never saw other girls as being up to your level."

"What about the one you had a crush on? You could still-"

"I never had a chance. I'm not sure I ever really wanted to succeed."

"Oh, sweetie..."

I switched breasts, wrapping my lips around Mom's other nipple and sucking on it in turn. My body didn't seem to be aware that there was no milk to be had. Mom started stroking my hair again. She might have been conflicted, but in her eyes I saw only her love for me. It was the one emotion that ruled her life more than any other. She couldn't help what she felt.

"It's getting late," she said.

"So?"

"Let's go to bed."

"Mom, that's not-"

"Shhh, just come with me."

I sat up, freeing Mom from being trapped under me. We both stood, and I waited to see what she was going to do. I half-expected her to run straight to her room and lock the door behind her. She didn't. She took my hand and led me down the hall, passing my room altogether. She guided me next to her bed, then stopped me.

Wordlessly, she pulled her shirt off. It had been pulled up high enough that it hadn't been doing any good anyway. She made no attempt to cover her breasts, displaying them casually to me as if it was an everyday thing. They looked so good on her, filling out her chest perfectly. I couldn't help staring more than I meant to. I had a full erection, and I wasn't sure when exactly that had happened. It didn't seem like it would be going anywhere anytime soon.

Mom stripped down to her panties and climbed into bed. I belatedly followed her lead and pulled my shirt off. I was more hesitant about taking off my pants, but I knew I'd just feel stupid if I backed out at that point. It wasn't like she couldn't already see that I was hard.

Once I was down to my boxers I climbed into the other side of Mom's bed. I shifted closer to her and once again felt her arms encircle me.

"Roll over, sweetie," she whispered.

"Okay."

I turned so that my back was to her and her naked breasts pressed against my bare skin. She hugged me to her and gently kissed my shoulder. I was too horny to stay still for long, but I didn't know how to communicate the problem. Mom's hand brushed against my cock, making me jump at the sudden, unexpected contact. Her fingers maneuvered delicately around the tent in my boxers. I didn't know exactly what she was up to, but her intent was clear.

"I shouldn't be doing this," she said.

"It's okay, Mom."

"It really isn't." Her hand slipped into my boxers and grasped my hard shaft. I felt her breath on my neck as she moved her lips closer to my ear. "I shouldn't have let this happen."

"I'm old enough to make decisions for myself."

"Not this kind of decision. This isn't one I should ever let you make. I'm supposed to be more responsible than this."

She pulled my cock out of my boxers and stroked it slowly. She had taken me in a light grip, so physically it wasn't doing much for me. Mentally, however, she was causing a whirlwind of confusing and conflicting thoughts inside me.