Maternal Solstice

We lay there for a long time; maybe a half hour, maybe an hour. I just held her tight, and listened to her breathe, and every so often, I would be overcome by the feeling that something was slipping away, and then I would need to feel her lips on mine, and I would be okay for another few minutes.

After a while, she stirred, and I untangled myself from her so she could get off the kitchen table. She led me by the hand to her bedroom, and we spent the rest of the night in a softer, but no less passionate, location. My memories of that night are more muted and less vivid than the memories of the evening leading up to that night. I remember that I did not sleep at all, because I couldn't stand the thought not being aware of being with her. I remember a moment when she was straddling me on top, her hands on my chest, her breasts bouncing to the rhythm of our love making, and that will always be the image that I wish I could paint, because I could see everything about her at one time that made her so beautiful to me. I remember that we were doing it doggy style, and she asked me if I wanted to fuck her up the ass, but I declined, despite my previous fascination with that erogenous zone. I remember my dick being red and raw the next day, because essentially, if I could get enough blood to it, I had it inside Mom. I remember that early, early, in the morning, after we'd fucked for about the sixth time, my mom said, "Is this what you had in mind when you said you'd be laying in jism, thinking about me?" And then she moved down, and licked my penis clean all of the accumulated pussy juice and semen and sweat, and when she was done it was not all that surprising that she had an erect dick in her mouth. She sucked on if for a few minutes, but moved back up to lay beside me. She held my erection in her hand, and kissed me. "I want to feel you in me again," she whispered, tugging gently. She rubbed my head across her pussy, back and forth, until I pushed inside her, and she breathed in the way she did, and I reached behind her and held that beautiful ass and wished that time would just stop.

We showered together and drove to work the next day. The trip was in total silence, except that she reached for and held my hand the entire time. My dad was home that night, and we resumed our normal roles without any opportunity for closure of what we had experienced.

Sometimes, when we are home on holidays, I see my mother staring absently at a certain spot on the kitchen table, and suspect that she is thinking about the same thing I am thinking. Sometimes, when I kiss her goodbye, we extend it for an extra heartbeat, and remember. Sometimes, I randomly text her, and describe some aspect of her that I like in detail.

And the rest of the time, I just miss her.