Mothers and Secrets

Grant scooped up a spoonful. "Tastes good to me."

"The taste isn't the point, Maddie," she grumbled in imitation of her husband. "You know damn well this would be better with some chicken breast or pork or some kind of beef. I want meat in more of my meals." She smiled, content with the meal she'd prepared; how her son wolfed it down.

The floorboards upstairs creaked and groaned under Gabe's irritable footsteps. "Speaking of that," Grant said between mouthfuls of rice and vegetables, "I've been thinking." There was a thud upstairs. Both Blooms held still and listened. Vague distortions of Gabe's voice floated down to them. Then more footsteps.

Madeline took her son's left hand in both of hers. "Tell me, sweetheart. What have you--"

"Madeline," called Mr. Bloom from the top of the stairs. "Could you come up here please?" His voice fell just short of calm.

"Just a sec, Gabe. I'm coming," she called back. Then she turned to her favorite. "Go on, hon. I want to hear your thoughts."

"No, Mom. Go on. You're coming down when he's asleep, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

"We can talk about it then."

"I can probably get down before."

"No, I'd rather discuss this in the quiet, on the couch. You know. Closer."

She leaned over the table to give her son a kiss that anyone could mistake for an innocent smooch on the mouth. Then she went up to placate her husband.

Grant finished the warm meal, washed up and put everything away. It was quiet up there. If his father was pushing for sex, he was doing so quietly. Then again, maybe he'd had too full a day. In any case, it was sure that Madeline was awake up there; hiding her miraculous new body under that heinous lumpy gown.

He went to the den to wait. Still dressed from work, the young trainer was, again, wearing only a pair of shorts; no shirt. He picked through an old magazine he'd found between the cushions; Vegetarian Cooking. He shook his head. He'd told her many times that the diet didn't have to be vegetarian. Stuck to a stew recipe he found a receipt from a shop called Agent Provocateur; a local lingerie shop.

Grant only heard the stairs' mousy creak because he had been listening for it. Petite bare feet carried well turned ankles supporting carved calves and shining lean thighs. Every inch of Madeline's legs were left exposed by her high hipped steel blue panties. They were silky like the previous night's outfit, but without the frills. Simple sporty lines let his mom's solid legs and flat tummy speak for themselves. They spoke of fantasies come true. Her torso broadened as his gaze trailed upwards to the matching blue bra. Her toned arms floated out to the side, keeping balance as she sneaked down to meet her young man. And of course the beauty was smiling, eyes dark and stormy in the dim light. Long chocolate-colored hair fell to her strong shoulders and curled like smoke.

She strode, resolute, directly to her son and sat prim on his lap.

Without conscious thought, the pair wrapped their arms around each other. The possessive air went unmentioned. Both relished the feel of her bare torso wrapped up in his naked chest and arms; the backs of her smooth shaved thighs and parts of her round half-exposed bottom resting atop his exposed lap.

"Hmmmm," his mother purred. "This is nice. I'm glad we're doing this."

"Yeah. It's good to feel you so close."

They chatted about their workdays. Voices were quiet enough to avoid stirring the man upstairs, but they sounded like a couple in a coffee shop. Only hearing them, one would never guess it was a woman in her underwear sitting on her bare-chested son's lap. But their bodies felt so comfortable together -- so well matched. It felt like the most natural thing in the world as they eased into the nearly-naked embrace.

Eventually, Madeline said, "There was a thought you wanted to share with me?"

He nodded, and stroked her bare thigh like it was his favorite pussy cat. "I've been thinking about our talk last night. I'm still asking you to refrain from...romantic activity, while I assess the situation."

"No problem," she chuckled to herself.

"Great, but I want you to make steaks for dinner tomorrow night. Let Dad think whatever he wants about that. Don't tell him why you're making it. I want to watch his behavior."

"That's easy. You know I work at home on Thursdays. Your father put a pack of them in the freezer the same day he made hamburgers. They can thaw out overnight tonight, and I'll marinate them all day tomorrow. But are you sure this is what you want me to do, my love?"

"I'm sure, Mom." He squeezed her inner thigh. "It's getting late, and I have a normal day of work ahead of me."

Taking her son's cue, she stood up and watched him with care. Grant stood too, and then pointed to the arm of the couch.

He remembered! She thrilled inside. She bent to grab the side of the sofa, and stuck out her ass the way her son liked. In order to keep her balance, she put a knee on a seat cushion.

She looks even more like a porn star than usual, propped up like that; ready to be fucked from behind! He struggled to control his breath.

His kneeling mother looked back over her shoulder at him, as she had done many times by now. Her voice took on a slightly higher pitch, "You want me like this, right Baby?"

"Yes, Mom. Like that. Every night."

He clapped his hand onto her firm ass, and squeezed it gently. She stayed in that pose for her son, happily obedient and available to him.

"Wow. Better and better every day. You went on a run today, didn't you?"

"Uh huh," she answered from her bent position. I was thinking of you, Grant. I was running to make myself nice and firm so you could spank your mommy. Feel how hard she works for you. She was already wet, but this was getting her crotch soaked. Luckily, there was no way her son could see it in the dim light.

Grant indulged in one last squeeze at his mother's eager flesh. Then he released her. "I can tell. Keep it up, Mom. You are looking great."

Madeline stood and turned to hug him goodnight. Too much over-stimulation, the matriarch realized She needed to get out of there before she lost control. Her remarkable body crushed against his in a hug. The hot and bothered mother clenched her teeth to keep her tongue in her mouth as she kissed him goodnight.

"Put the steaks high up in the fridge to start defrosting. Leave them wrapped in the butcher paper, okay, hon?" Without waiting for an answer, she hustled to the stairs.

It took all her willpower not to look back as she climbed. Grant, on the other hand, got to enjoy the view as she ascended half naked.

The next morning he glanced into the kitchen on his way out. His mother was there in the clumpy dressing gown. She worked from home on Thursday, so there was no need for her to dress up. His father was there too, dressed for his office job. Mr. Bloom watched his wife with gloating glee. She was laying the thawed steaks into individual Tupperware containers, and using a spoon to make sure each one was coated with marinade.

The son bid his parents farewell. Just before he reached the front door, he heard his father's voice. "It's good that after our little talk last night, you remembered who is the man of this house." Grant grimaced and shook his head.

"You're going to be late," was the only answer his mother gave.

Not all trainers left their phones in their lockers when they worked, but young master Bloom did. There were messages from his mother, asking about the steak dinner.

He wrote, "I can stay here at the gym and write an explanation, or I can come home and be with you. Which would you prefer?"

Knowing what his mother wanted and needed, he didn't wait for an answer. He started changing into a fresh pair of shorts and t-shirt.

The phone pinged a new message before he was half dressed: "Come home to me!"

She had prepared a baking sheet of potatoes with salt, pepper and dill to roast and serve with the steak. It was -- of course -- marvelous. There had been no time to discuss anything, as Gabe was home from the office early. He looked annoyed and distracted. Something about work, but he wouldn't say what. "Can't you two do that workout after dinner?"

"On a stomach full of meat and potatoes?" despaired Grant. "Only if we want to see it a second time all over the cellar floor."

"Well, how about if you pump the iron while the potatoes roast in the oven? You can set a timer. The steak is ready for the pan. 6 to 8 minutes tops. I'll even start it just before the alarm goes off."

"I boiled the potatoes in advance, Gabe. They'll only need about 25 minutes in the oven," argued the recently statuesque wife.

"It'll be an even half-hour by the time the steak is done," the elder Bloom man argued with his gut sticking out. "I'll even take the potatoes out of the oven for you if you're going to be a baby about it."

Her mouth opened to reply, but Grant grabbed his mother by the waist. She burst into shrieks and titters. "That'll be fine, Dad," he replied over his mother's happy laughing surprise. "We'll head down right away to squeeze in an extra minute or two."

"The oven is already at 425 degrees! 25 minutes, but don't take them out!" his mother called out as the young man dragged her towards the basement door. "Stir them around after the first twelve minutes!" she cried out between giggles.

Once they were through the door, she shivered. The lovely brunette stepped out of his embrace and headed down the stairs without a backward glance. She walked so fast that her son didn't see her go to the storage area to change. But he could hear her shuffling around back there.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Uhh...yeah. I'm okay. I don't really get why you agreed to work out under a time crunch like this."

"It's all for a reason. Promise. I have something else I want to do after dinner, and I would have hated to miss out on a training session with you."

"If you say so," she muttered, unconvinced.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"No. I mean yeah. I've been struggling to keep my head on straight today. The last two nights. They've...I mean, I'm not..."

She didn't finish her sentence, and the sounds of movement stopped as well.

"Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"Let's focus on being present, okay?"

"Okay."

"Never mind last night or tonight or anything else. Be here with me now, or else we can just go back upstairs."

"No! I mean, I can be present. Frankly, I think you're right. I went for a run this afternoon, and it cleared my head for a few hours. A good workout will help now."

"Good. Are you dressed?"

"Yes." she grunted, adjusting something.

"Then get on out here, so we can get started."

Her outfit was green and white stripes. The bottom was the same as one would see on a bikini The top hid a bit more than a bikini top, but plenty of Grant's mother's skin was on display. Magazines modified pictures to manufacture what he was looking at in real life.

"Oh, Mom." That body. These outfits. This woman! All for me!

"Too much? Too little material?"

"I could stare at you in that thing all day. Now I'm struggling to keep my head on straight."

She beamed as she always did under his praise.

"That's what I like to see. You know how we start."

Her eyes glittered, and her smile widened a few degrees. She put her elbows on the washing machine, and pointed her ever-harder buns at Grant.

"Remember, this is to wake you up; make sure you're here and ready to work."

His mother's answer was to wag her ass at him in excitement at what she was about to receive.

"And it's for encouragement too."

She looked back at him, "Don't forget to hold on for a second after. Make sure today's run paid off."

He smacked his mom's ass and held on for the ride.

Her only response was, "Mm!"

Mommy's stud gripped her buns, and squeezed them for effect. She held still -- bent over for her son -- while he "checked her progress."

"I'd say no one could hope for better than this," he slurred through his excitement, and released his grip.

She stood erect, pushing her round chest up and forward.

The workout began. They pushed hard, but Grant was determined that nothing be rushed. "Better we just don't get to certain exercises than rushing one and getting hurt." Madeline still wondered why her son had ordered the steak dinner, but there was no time to ask.

After 40 minutes passed, Gabe called down to them. "Wipe yourselves down and then grab a seat. It's perfect, and it won't wait another minute."

The steaks were very good. They were not the first Mr. Bloom had made. The roasted potatoes complimented the marinade, and they each had a glass of wine to go with it.

"I tell ya," droned the self-ordained steak master. "It takes a steady hand to make a steak that good."

"Yes," agreed his son. "And the potatoes were seasoned to perfection."

"Eh, I had to add salt."

"You're supposed to salt to taste, Dad. That's why even Michelin star restaurants have salt shakers on the table."

"Sure. Sure. You did a good job with the potatoes, Madie." He sat back, letting his stomach bulge.

Madeline made no response. She reached for her son's empty plate and stacked it on her own. Grant grabbed his father's and the wine glasses for an excuse to accompany his mother to the sink. "Oops. Did you want your wine glass for some more, Dad?"

"No, thanks. We've all got work tomorrow."

"Okay."

His father wandered towards the den, muttering self-satisfied musings. The toned son turned to his mother at the sink. "That steak would have tasted like nothing if it weren't for your marinade," he said for her ears only.

She looked up at him, and smiled gratitude.

He took her hand under the tap. "Without you, it's just some food. You are what makes it a meal." He felt her grip tighten in the warm stream of water. "Now, I need to go talk to him alone." Her eyes rounded with concern. He stroked her brown tresses with his dry hand, triggering that familiar shiver along her lovely figure. "Don't worry. I just need to understand things better. I have to talk with him while he feels satisfied and in command. Would you mind cleaning up without me while I do that?"

She rose onto the balls of her feet to give him a peck on the lips. "Whatever you need from me, darling." Against her wishes, her eyes flashed with hunger for him. Her gaze dodged to the dishes in the sink, hiding the mother's not-so-secret desire.

"Okay, I'll be back in a little while." He smacked her ass to punctuate the moment. She smiled at the suds.

Grant joined his father in the den. He sat in a comfortable chair near to Gabe's Lay-Z-Boy. There was a small table between them with a lamp and some magazines on it. He placed his phone on a magazine, and said, "Sorry we had to leave you alone in the kitchen today for our workout. But I think it's paying off. How do you like Mom's progress?"

Gabe's eyes never left the television, he was only half thinking about to whom he was speaking. "Yeah, yeah. She may finally be getting hot enough to --" he stumbled, remembering it was his son sitting there. "You know. Enjoy my 'husbandly' rights."

His son made a weak smile and shook his head. "I'm not sure that's a word. Besides, do you really think sex is your right?"

"Listen, bud, everyone is entitled to expect their spouse to satisfy them. It's part of the marital contract. Otherwise, you're just roommates."

How the fuck do you apply that to how neglectful you've been of Mom for years? But aloud he asked, "What if she won't give 'it' to you? You're not going to force yourself on Mom."

"Of course not. But if she won't help me satisfy my needs, then I'm justified getting it elsewhere."

This is exactly where Grant had expected (hoped?) to get to. "Pshh. Right."

"What?"

"No offense, Dad, but we both know you can't do better than Mom."

The father tried to shrug it off. "I won't need to. She'll be grateful for the chance."

That is not going to happen, he thought. "Well, good luck, I guess."

This was all he could stand. He scooped up his phone and stopped the recording function on his way back to the kitchen. He stood behind the shapely matriarch, and lay hands on the curve of her hips.

She made a small "Hmm," to acknowledge his touch.

Careful no other part of his body touched her back, the scheming son leaned forward to speak softly in her ear. "Remember, You're not to let him into your... lumpy sleeping gown. I'll be in my room listening until I'm confident that everyone is going to bed quietly. Then I will go to the den to wait for you." He stroked her hair, yet again, and said, "and you know how I expect you to be dressed when you come, right?"

Keeping her eyes on the soapy dishes, Madeline blushed, nodded and bit her bottom lip to restrain the smile that was growing on her face.

***

Dear MM,

Thanks for writing to us! No one has ever asked about the pick-up-artist who helped my son. Funnily, yes, we did meet him after the events of the story we posted. It wasn't bad.

The guy never had a clue regarding our incestuous connection. We could be more natural around him than any of my son's real friends. He was open, curious and almost charming.

He "wondered out loud" about a possible threesome (or foursome if we wanted.) We were not surprised. Meeting with him was good for an hour and a laugh, but we took a hard pass on the ménage à trois. Even years after the events you read about, one-on-one time with my son is as electrifying as ever. No one can take care of me like him; top to bottom, front and back. Adding others to our bed would only distract his love, skill and focus...

- From a private reply from SeducedByStoryXOXO to MadMommy1980

***

"You were begging me for it a few weeks ago!" Gabe bellowed that night.

Grant listened at the dividing wall. It must have been more than three months ago. His mother remained meek but stubbornly refused to let her husband put his hands on her.

Mr. Bloom wasn't backing down either. When the father sounded ready to flip, their son knocked on the door and walked in without waiting to be invited. He rubbed his eyes, playing at being half-asleep. "What's all the screaming is about?"

"None of your business, Grant. Go back to bed!"

The youngest and strongest man in the house let his hands fall to his side. All signs of sleepiness were gone. "I will leave when you have calmed down."

The patriarch glared red-faced at his son. The twenty-something trainer watched him; calm and ready.

"Look, it's late. Whatever it is, maybe you should both sleep on it. Try talking in a civil tone tomorrow."

"Thank you, Grant." Madie stared at her husband but spoke to her son. "I am done discussing this with your father. I've already told him so. All this noise and bluster can only be for his own benefit."

"Madeline!"

"Wherever you're trying to go, Dad, this isn't how to get there. You're too angry. She's totally closed off. Give yourself and Mom a chance to calm down and rest. Tomorrow you can approach this business -- whatever it is -- with a clear head."

Gabe glowered from his son to his wife and back again. Even he could see there was no way the current situation could lead to sex. "Whatever. We'll talk tomorrow. Go to bed, Grant. It's fine."

Mother and son locked eyes. She stroked her hair, nodded and made a small smile.

"Okay, then." He realized that his hands were in fists. He relaxed them. "Let's all try to have a good night."

His mom's eyes sparkled at his words. She planned to have a good night with him, all right.

His father growled, "Get. Out. Now."

The young man returned to his room and listened. In time it was quiet enough. He went down to wait in the den with only a pair of shorts and his phone.