Marcelle and Charles Ch. 03

Chapter 3- Cuddlesome Companions

I didn't know what would happen tonight, especially should mom fall asleep, but I wanted to be ready just in case. So, I slipped into loose green pajama bottoms of soft cotton and pulled on a white t-shirt.

It felt weird knowing I was dressing specifically for the possibility that I might have sex with my mother. It felt really--really weird!

The thought aroused me too, and so, with the addition of the velvety soft caress from my pajamas, I found myself with a quickly growing erection. I tried, in vain though, to arrange my dick so that it hung down the loose leg of my pajamas. It was still very noticeable though, so I tried flipping it up. That was even more noticeable. Well, unless I tied it to my belly using the waistband. It was better as long as I didn't mind the head of my prick sticking out of the top of my pajamas. I tried pulling my t-shirt down to cover over my swollen bulbous indiscretion and sighed.

It would have to do.

I left my room and the restriction on my dick only made it swell larger. Before I knew it, my dickhead was nearly the size of my palm. The whole length of my prick swelled until the head was sticking almost three inches above my waistband, but if I released it now, it would be so hard that it would stand out in front of me like a flagstaff leading the way!

When I reached the living room the first thing I heard was the stereo playing an old Nat King Cole record. The volume was turned down low. The lights were off. One lamp in the corner of the room with a low-wattage light bulb illuminated the room dimly. The couch was already pulled back from its usual spot. The coffee table was moved off to the side of the room. Across from the couch was the cold fireplace. Being August, we needed no fire. In between the couch and the fireplace, spread out on the floor, was a large oversized quilt. It was so thick that it was more of a futon. On top of it were mom's pillows and comforter she had brought from her room.

Just as I walked into the room, mom came in from the kitchen. I froze. She stood there looking at me. Her brown eyes seemed--hot. Not angry. Not annoyed. Not preoccupied. They were sharp. Interested. Hot. Her silver hair, eyebrows, and lashes gave her an almost supernatural beauty with an air of divinity. She looked like a goddess walking among men.

She wore the meagerest of nightgowns. Silver silk trimmed in lace and set with sapphires on her breasts. It seemed to barely cling to her body. It seemed it should fall away with the meagerest breath of air. Somehow, though, it stayed.

Her breasts hung on her chest at proud attention, and a single glance at her nipples had me sighing in relief. I wasn't the only one struggling with erections. The filmy lace and sapphires of her nightgown barely obscured the rosy tint of her nipples as it clung to the generous curves of her ample breasts.

Silver silk caressed her belly, back, hips, and buttocks. Marcelle had chosen a nightgown she had never worn before outside of her own room. Charles had never seen it. She had never intended for him to see it. But now, she wore it--for him!

It was more of a chemise with thin over-the-shoulder straps, a frilly, almost transparent, lace bodice that plunged to expose her cleavage but clung to her breasts and ribs. Beneath them, the silk hugged her ribs tightly before falling down her body, billowing out to cover her hips, and ending just below the cheeks of her bottom.

Mom stood there in her sexy regalia. I stood where I was, stunned by her visage. She had two mugs of hot chocolate. A small smirk turned the edges of her mouth up. She stared at me. I stared at her.

"Hey," I said, more than a bit nervous.

I felt--stunned, nervous, more than a little scared. Almost like the time Madison fell into my lap, then later when I confessed my feelings to her.

"Hi," Marcelle replied, and I could hear it in her voice. Her nervousness. She was scared too.

What were we doing?

This was insane!

"I--um," Mom started to say, then looked down at the cocoa in her hands and said, "thought that maybe tonight we could just have a quiet evening."

"No movie," l asked.

"No," She replied, "I checked. There wasn't anything we haven't already watched. Besides, I just wanted to spend time with you..."

"Okay," I said and crossed the room to her.

I took the mugs of cocoa from her and she smiled in thanks. Turning aside she led the way to the heavy quilt futon and very carefully lowered herself to kneel on its edge. Despite her attempt at modesty, something I found humorous and ultimately in vain since she had purposely worn the tiny nightgown, as soon as she bent to crawl across to where she planned to recline her nightgown slid up and collected at her slim waist completely exposing her hips and ass. Mom wasn't wearing anything. No briefs. No frilly bottoms. No silky thongs. No g-string. Nothing!

She quickly scurried across the futon and then flipped on the mattress while trying to use one hand to pull her nightgown over her hips. Still, I saw a small forest of silver pubic hair decorating her pubic mound, olive pussy-lips, and then she was pushing her hand, and the bottom of her silver chemise between her thighs while crossing one leg over the other.

"Sorry," She said as a furious blush spread across her cheeks, "I went ahead and got ready for bed. I don't like feeling confined--it's hard to explain."

"You don't have to," I said as I met those pools of liquid chocolate of hers, "I know exactly what you mean. Sometimes--I feel exactly the same way."

"Sometimes?" Marcelle said.

I shrugged and gave an embarrassed smile, "All the time really. I thought you knew. I don't wear much when I sleep."

"Me too," Mom replied as she looked down at her nightgown, "Nothing really. I wear these because I like how they feel, and I can't exactly walk around naked in front of my son."

I wanted to object. I wanted to say, 'Sure you can, I don't mind at all!' But, I didn't. I didn't know what I should say, so I opted to say nothing. I just nodded along as if I understood. Which I did, actually. I'm sure a proper mother would never show her body to her son under any circumstance. But then again, I'm sure a proper son would never want to see his mother's naked body, so neither one of us was proper, I guess.

"Here," Marcelle said as she sat up on one hip, "Hand me the cocoa, so you can join me."

When she lifted her hands her chemise slipped up her body exposing her entire lower half. A small forest of long silver pubes. A flawless belly. Hips. Long legs. Hits of a sumptuous ass. Only her legs being held kept me from seeing more.

This was going to be a tuff night. I wanted to make love to her. I wanted to do so much, but I wanted her to fall in love with Everett, with me, so thoroughly that she would never care that I was her son. She would only ever see the man that she loves.

Getting down on the futon, I stretched out and made myself comfortable. The couch was our headboard and backrest with several pillows allowing us to recline as mom handed over my mug of cocoa. We sipped its chocolatey warmth and stared into the cold fireplace.

We were both distracted by our thoughts. At least, I know I was. Visions replaying in my head of mom crawling onto the futon. Her bare ass swaying sumptuously. Smooth pussy-lips flashing briefly in front of me. The way she twisted to hide her exposure. The way she shyly apologized. The blush of her cheeks as she looked down and away in embarrassment.

I finished my cocoa first and set the mug aside on the floor beside the futon. Mom was slower, taking her time, savoring every succulent sip. I used the time to make myself more comfortable. First scooting down so I had my shoulders and head back against the couch and nothing else. Then, I pulled the comforter up our legs as far as my waist.

With mom still sitting up and sipping her cocoa, it left her still outside the comforter. Her nightgown now collected on her lap, right against her lower belly, and adequately covered her nudity. However, it left her hips, ass, and mile-long legs completely exposed. They were thick with long feminine curves that led to bent knees while her feet were drawn up and tucked behind her thighs and behind.

As I got myself situated I slyly wrangled my still-rigid dick out of my waistband and pushed it down the right leg of my pajamas. It still tented the thin material and the comforter, but it was less noticeable. When I looked to see if mom saw any of it I saw her cut her eyes away.

So, my rearranging hadn't gone unnoticed. And, why was she blushing?

She pretended she didn't see anything. So I did too.

Once I was comfortable, I knew that after mom finished her cocoa she would want to move closer and cuddle, and so I slid my hand and arm closest to her between her and her pillows. With the way she was sitting, it placed my hand right on the curvy mound of her left hip and ass. My fingers touched her soft, bare skin, and a shiver rolled through mom's body like ripples on a still pond and her fleshed goosed. Every silvery of transparent hair on her body stood on end. But, she said nothing. She simply sipped her cocoa.

Emboldened, I relaxed and let my whole hand rest on more of mom's soft curvesome ass than on her hips. She still said nothing, and so I waited.

At length, mom finished her cocoa and then got up as if on all fours with the exception that she was holding a mug in one hand. With her free hand on my chest, she leaned over me, which she hadn't needed to do. She could have just handed me the mug, but instead, she moved over me, her breast large and heavy and right in my face. Her ass went up into the air and I missed it since I didn't allow my hand to follow her when she shifted. It would have been too obvious that I was grab-assing her if I had. Still, her breasts were hanging very lovely in my face, barely constrained by her filmy lace chemise.

She sat her mug beside mine, and then proceeded to collapse in slow motion as she laid down beside--and half on top of--me. She snuggled her bottom hand and arm beneath the small of my back. She laid her head down on my shoulder and chest. Her bottom breast was squished between her ribs and mine. Her upper breast was draped across my chest and bulging to near popping out of her mom's chemise. I could feel her belly moving rhythmically with her breathing. Her bottom hip and thigh were right against my hip and thigh while her upper thigh was thrown across my leg. This caused her pubic mound and her small nest of pubes to rub aggressively against me.

Something really was going on with mom. She had never behaved like this before. Sure she was always snuggly, but this-- This was something else entirely.

Whatever it was, I liked it.

With mom's leg in between mine, it didn't take long for her to notice that my dick was long and stiff. She didn't say a thing. She just moved her thigh over it trapping my dick between me and her.

Once she was settled, I moved my hand down her back and found that her chemise had ridden up all the way to her natural waist. I placed my hand on her waist, on top of the sheer silk material, and gently squeezed mom in a one-armed hug.

"Mmm," She purred into my chest, "This is lovely."

"Yeah," I agreed as I slid my hand up her ribs to her shoulder.

Mom, somehow, seemed to hunch in, snuggling even closer, pressing her breast ever more firmly against me as she savored each caress. We lay there for several minutes like that. Listening to music and enjoying each other's company. Cherishing every moment of our companionship.

After a few minutes, mom reached down with her free hand and drew the comforter up to cover her bare hips and ass. I didn't think much about it as mom spent several seconds arranging the comforter so that it sat right on the peak over her upper hip and still left most of her ass uncovered. But then, once she had it exactly the way she wanted it, she brought her hand up and slipped beneath my t-shirt.

Her fingers felt like electricity as they brushed across the thicker mass of long belly hair that grew from my privates up to my chest. Being eighteen, it wasn't a thick mass of hair. Truly it wasn't much more than a thin column that ended about midway on my sternum. Mom's hand followed that column though until she came to my ribs and stopped.

"This is nice," She purred as she then reversed her hand and trailed her nails down my belly, "Very comforting..."

It seemed like she wanted to say more, but she didn't. Instead, she just nuzzled my chest and took a long inhale before releasing a satisfied sigh.

I laid there for many minutes afterward fighting my inclination to slide my hand down from her shoulder to her waist to caress her broad hips before gently rubbing my own mother's superlative ass. I fought myself--my base instincts--and I lost as I made one excuse after another. At the end rationalizing my decision with the fact that I had caressed and massaged her lower back and bum many times before. Sure those times she had either been wearing panties of some sort or a more modest nightgown, but despite the differences, what I did was nothing I hadn't done before. And so, I moved my hand down mom's shoulder, slipping along her soft silky chemise, down her ribs to the gathered cloth piled in the small of her natural waist.

Mom's skin was softer than silk, softer even than velvet as my fingers followed the contours of her obliques to her firm hip-flare. I dug into her flesh and felt its firmness and softness beneath my fingertips. I ran my thumb from behind her back and followed the hard curve of her iliac crest, and then I used my whole hand to rub up her hip to where I could feel the greater trochanter of her femur jutting out and so beautifully covered by muscle, tendons, a thin layer fat, and flawless olive skin. Then, I was over her hip and openly, boldly, caressing mom's ass.

It was like nothing I'd ever touched before. This time, and every time before, I always feel amazed. Mom's behind, the softness of her skin, the curves of her bottom, they are so perfect. I felt like a drug addict, or an alcoholic, taking my favorite drug or sipping my favorite drink. I had it, I had her in my hand, and yet, it was not enough. It would never be enough! I could caress mom's ass for the rest of my life and I would be drunk with happiness, but I would never be satisfied. I would always want more!

Mom's ass was a loadstone drawing my hand, no me, all of me, to her like a magnet. And it wasn't just her ass, it was all of her. The way her breasts felt as they pressed against me. The color and texture of her hair. Her smell. Her deep brown eyes. The way she moved. The way she talked. The way she breathed! Her sense of humor, and so much more...

My hand moved down the bottom of her ass-cheek, my nails gliding gently until I met her other cheek, and then I moved up to the small of her back. Her transparent hairs were thicker there and were only minuscule longer, but I could feel the difference as I raked my fingers through the small patch. It sent shivers up her spine and she thrust her pussy into my hip in reflex. Still, the move pressed her sex into me until I could feel her fat pussy-lips, pelvic bone, and her thatch of silver pubes rubbing against me.

I smiled, and then moved my hand a little further up her back, enjoying the feeling of her skin, her bones, and her muscles beneath my fingertips. I moved up to her hip once more, up to her thigh, and then down and across her ass cheek once again. I could never--I would never--get enough of caressing mom's body!

Since when did I become such a mommy-obsessed pervert?!

Years of memories played through my head in fast forward. A collage of greatest hits from the time I was a little boy and every cuddle, every massage, every intimate moment spent with mom.

I realized at that moment that I have always been a mama's boy, and whether consciously or subconsciously--intentionally or unintentionally-- mom and I have been building this relationship my entire life!

As I did my thing, slowly rubbing circles on mom's upper ass-cheek, time passed until mom started moving her hand across my chest. Down to the waistband of my pajama bottoms, her nails digging beneath its edge before she retreated. Her fingers followed my waistband until she reached my obliques opposite of her, and then she slid her hand up and followed my ribs to my sternum. She ran her hand up my chest just enough to then rake her fingers through my small patch of chest hair.

She opened and closed her fingers, making a fist, three times before whispering, "If it weren't for you, I wouldn't even know that I like a man to have a little chest hair..."

I lay there and absorbed the out-of-the-blue comment for several minutes as I continued to gently caress mom's luscious ass. After a minute or two I finally said, "There are so many things about you I love. Sometimes, I think that's why I fell in love with Madison. She is the only girl I know that reminds me of you. But, now that she's turned me down, well, I don't know what to do. No one is like you mom--no one!"

"What about Lana?" Marcelle asked.

"She's been my best friend for years," I said as I thought of Lana.

My hand froze on mom's ass-cheek. What would Lana think of what we were doing right now?

She'd probably strip naked and have mom laid out between us so she could enjoy mom's breasts, hips, and ass too!

"But, for years now, I never thought of her as a girlfriend. She was just my friend," I continued, "Going out with her--thinking of her as a girlfriend--this is all new to me."

"Well," Marcelle sighed into my chest, "I guess I can understand that. Maybe..."

There was a long pause as mom internally debated what she was about to say before she continued, "Maybe, what you need isn't a girlfriend..."

That got my mind racing. What did she mean?

"I--I think I'm going to delete my dating profile," Marcelle said, seeming to suddenly change topics.

"You haven't even given it a chance," I mumbled into her fragrant lavender, silver hair.

"I know," She mumbled as she shook her head against my chest, which shook her hair and filled my head with the smell of her all over again, "I'm beginning to realize--I have everything I want--or need. And frankly, I'm scared..."

"What are you scared of," I asked.

There was a long pause as Marcelle considered her feelings, "I--don't want to lose you."

"Mom," I purred warmly, reassuringly, "You know you will never lose me."

"Really?" She mumbled as she raised her head to meet my aqua-green eyes, "Then, you'll stay here--with me--forever?"

"Is that what you want," I asked.

"Yes," She said in a quiet but fierce whisper, "It's always just been you and me--all these years. I don't need anyone else. I'm scared that there is no one else out there for me. But, I'm also scared that if I do meet someone, they will only let me down, or take advantage. That whoever it is, he won't be like you. Sweet. Gentle. Considerate. A million different things that are you. Your smell. Your warmth--everything. I'm sorry, I guess I've used you for so long as a surrogate spouse that I'm spoiled. You've always loved me unconditionally. Never asking more from me than I'm willing to give. Now the thought of doing this with a stranger frightens me a great deal more than I ever anticipated!"

"Mom," I said in a disbelieving whisper, "What--are you saying?"

Marcelle broke eye contact and laid her head down on Charles' chest and shoulder. She had already said too much. She had wanted to be provocative and alluring. She had wanted to hint at her feelings. All in order to draw Charles out. Force him to act on his feelings toward her, but instead, she had almost confessed everything!