Mom-Son on the Run

"You're going to prison for a very long time."

The weight of those words cut through the fog billowing inside Jordan's brain and left him suddenly hyperaware of his surroundings. The cold steel chair beneath him, the chilly stare of the detective sitting across the table.

"I need a lawyer," Jordan said finally, the words catching in his throat. "But I didn't do this."

==

"I know you didn't do it, son. Because you're not a killer," Jordan's mother said. "We just have to prove it to them."

The desperation evident in Raquel's voice, Jordan placed his hands delicately on his mother's shoulders. "Thank you for believing in me, mom. I don't know what I would do without you. And I don't want you to worry--but I'm terrified."

Raquel pulled her son's arms down and took his hands in hers, squeezing them as she often did when trying to comfort her youngest child. All his life, Jordan had been sensitive, a disposition he clearly got from her. The two had always been close, as Raquel had long seen so much of herself, and her vulnerabilities, in him. She briefly fixed her eyes on the coffee table, and the 4x6 photo of a childhood Jordan atop it, before looking up at the fear-riddled face of her now-25-year-old son.

"You don't have anything to be terrified about, Jor."

"You're right. But you weren't in that room with those detectives, and I've seen enough true crime to know that 'I was at home watching TV' is a god-awful alibi," Jordan said, his palms beginning to sweat.

"I don't care what kind of alibi it is. You don't have to be scared because you're not going to prison. I won't let you."

==

As Jordan sat on the motel bed next to his mother, a strange thought flashed through his head: he was sitting too close to her. Her being mere inches away wouldn't have been awkward in practically any other setting, but here they were, alone and on the run at a seedy motel. The intimacy of the situation, he thought, was...noteworthy.

"I can't believe we're doing this," he said, turning to his mom.

"I told you, Jor. I won't let them take you."

"But we don't know the first thing about running from the cops! I mean, how are we supposed to not get caught?"

"We're going to Mexico, baby. We'll stay at your cousin Sammy's. Once we get there, we can figure the rest out."

Baby...she hadn't called him that in years. "You shouldn't be risking your freedom for me," he said, his body now fully turned toward his mother on the bed. "I love you way too much to let anything happen to you."

Raquel struggled to summon a response. Her son was right about the plan--it was flimsy at best. Even if they were able to find their way across the border, then what? Would they just be fugitives forever? Raquel could feel herself spinning out and wondered if Jordan could tell. She forced herself to look up, shifting her gaze from the dingy motel floor to the tiny old TV at the center of the room. This place had seen better days, she thought, before letting out a laugh as a tear rolled down her cheek. They'd seen better days, too.

Whether it was the tear or the laugh, Raquel could feel the pressure of her own anxiety fall away. "C'mon," she said, opening her arms wide as she laid down on the bed. She may not have a plan, but she had her son and he had his mother. And so, on their first night as fugitives, a night that should have been horrifying, Jordan and Raquel fell asleep safely in each other's arms.

The next morning, Raquel struggled to open her eyes, but as she gathered her senses, she was met with the embrace of her son, who seemingly hadn't moved a muscle since falling asleep. Without thought, she smiled and snuggled further into him, but as she did, felt something stiff against her crotch.

No, it--it can't be, she thought. But it was, and she knew it.

Her eyes remained closed though, and, while shocked to discover her son's erection currently pressing against her body, she was more shocked at her own internal stirring. She allowed her thoughts to race.

This was the intimacy in physical form she'd always longed for from Jordan. Raquel was sometimes self-conscious about the sheer amount of love she held for her son, how a hug was never enough. She'd often pull away first just to avoid feeling silly, but this time she stayed. She would stay for as long as he would allow it.

Is he awake? Is he feeling this too? She didn't know but was enjoying this new sensation far too much to open her eyes and break whatever spell this was. Any self-disgust she may have felt was overpowered by desire--a desire to be connected with her only son. She thought back to all the times she had seen him without his shirt on, the times he'd walked to the fridge in his boxers, or out of the shower in a towel. There were definitely moments she had forced herself to look away over the years, especially on those trips back home from college, when it was clear he'd discovered the gym. But now here she was, her son and his dick pressed against her. Raquel felt a surge within herself as the words "Jordan" and "dick" formed in her brain and as she did,--almost but not entirely involuntarily--she adjusted her hips. Jordan's dick moved with them. Immediately, Raquel felt a warm rush through her pussy. Her pussy. His dick. She "adjusted" her hips again.

Minutes ticked by before Raquel got up the courage to open her eyes. She'd been moving every 15 seconds or so, just enough to have any chance of denial if necessary, and her pussy was officially drenched. She needed to see him.

She opened her eyes slowly, as if she was coming out of a deep sleep. Jordan's face was the first to come into focus, and what a handsome face it was. Lean and clean-shaven, he'd managed to retain his boyish good looks while still looking every bit the man he was. His lips were pouty and, as she studied them now, very inviting. His button nose was cute and resembled hers, and his eyes...his eyes were closed, thank god.

Breathing a small sigh of relief, Raquel held her gaze on her son's face a second longer before tilting her head slowly down, and down. She took in Jordan's body fully, hungrily. Her left arm was still wrapped around her son, her hand gently curved along his lower back. Her right arm dangled a bit uncomfortably between them, but she felt a thrill thinking about how close her fingers were to the outline of his cock. His cock, she mouthed, as she settled her eyes on it.

Without looking away, Raquel gracefully slipped her left arm to her son's hip and created a small window of space between their chests. She was now looking through her cleavage to the intersection of their pairing, and as she did, she pressed deeper into his cock. The resulting pleasure forced out of her a whispery gasp so deep within that she seriously wondered how long she'd been waiting for this day.

She'd never hated a pair of blue jeans more than the ones currently holding back her son's massive erection. Not that she'd ever liked them before, but now--now she needed them off. Her passion startled her but she was too far in.

She moved both hands toward Jordan's dick, being sure to lightly caress her son's abs on her way south. Raquel's pussy was still resting against her son, but she found enough room for her right hand to form around the head of Jordan's dick. Another rush of pleasure. Her left hand found the button to his jeans, and then the zipper. As she pulled it down, she finally managed to shift her eyes back to Jordan's face. Still a heavy sleeper.

Tilting her head back down, she looked lustfully at her son's erect penis, now poking well out of his jeans and making quite the tent of his boxers. She could taste the saliva building in her mouth, and the fact that this was wrong was no longer a deterrent--it was an accelerant. This was the closest she'd ever felt to her son. Her pussy throbbed.

Raquel placed her left hand gently on Jordan's thigh and moved it quietly upward. When her fingers met the cotton fabric of his boxers, they twitched with excitement before continuing their ascent. Suddenly, she was stroking her son's shaft.

Jordan stirred for the first time, letting out an "mmm" that excited his mother to her core. She laid there for what felt like a minute, her hand still cupping his rock-hard member, before commencing. When she did, she focused on a trio of buttons along the lining of his cock. She fumbled with the first one as she sought out any sign of awareness in Jordan's face. The button slipped through its hole and the second and third quickly followed. She'd done it all by feel, patiently, as her eyes pored over her son's slumbering features. Now, she allowed herself to peer down at what awaited her.

"Jesus."

Jordan's dick was actually out--she was staring at her son's big, absolutely beautiful dick. Cautiously, she clasped her hand onto it and was struck by its warmth and, well, how tiny her hand looked in contrast. She slowly slid her hand up and down it, allowing her fingers to follow every curvature. She was admiring Jordan's perfect mushroom tip when she heard it.

"Mom?"

Raquel froze. With that single word hanging in the air, she slowly looked up, horrified by her lust, her stomach in endless knots.

"I'm so, so sorry. I don't know what--I can't believe I--"

"Mom."

Even in the darkness of their room, she could read the look in his eyes. Suddenly, his dick pulsated in her hand. She hadn't yet pulled her hand away! And she knew she was completely powerless to what might come next.

Just a moment earlier, Raquel was mortified and utterly ashamed. That moment had passed. Her son's cock throbbed once more in her hand, causing her enough excitement to do the unthinkable: she kissed him. Passionately. And Jordan kissed his mother back.