Moving In with Mom Pt. 04

I hid out in my bedroom for awhile after that, coming out only for work and food, sequestering myself away in private, convinced that she knew, that she could read my guilt on my face, or paranoid that I might blurt out something that would give the game away. So I huddled in my little cell like a monk, sleeping during the day, working during the night and learning how to make frozen taquitos in the microwave I'd bought for my bedroom to make sure I didn't disturb her sleeping on the sofa.

Frankly, it was driving me insane - every night I was home, I would stare at my wall, knowing the living room was just on the other side of it, imagining her sleeping on that couch, seeing in my mind's eye...well, you know the rest. It didn't help that I loaded my phone's contents onto my computer and having handled myself to it.

Was I obsessed? Maybe a little - I mean, it wasn't like I'd hidden a camera in her bathroom or anything. I'd thought about it, but if she found that? I'd be a column in a newspaper. Her temper was prodigious. At the very least, I'd be out on my ass, with nowhere to go. So I wasn't really obsessed, not letting it get the better of my hold on reality or anything. But I certainly *thought* about it.

I guess she sensed, somehow, that I was avoiding her, because one night, on a night off work, shortly after I'd gotten up and showered, she knocked on my chamber door. "Ian?" she called in quietly. "You got a sec?"

My heart sunk, briefly, and I was convinced that here was coming The Moment. But - no. Her voice was entirely too gentle for that, and she had knocked. It couldn't have been anything untoward. So I opened the door in shorts and a t-shirt, still towelling my hair dry.

She stood there in the doorway, offering a hesitant smile. "Hey," she said. "Are...things okay? With you? Between us? I feel like you've been...deliberately avoiding me lately," she told me. Which, of course, I had, but maybe I'd gone too far. I mean, if there hadn't been any fallout from that night yet, there almost certainly wouldn't be. Not like there were security cameras or any way she could find out so long after the fact.

"Not deliberately," I lied, and shrugged. "Just...you know, working overnights is kind of a back-to-front way of living, and I haven't felt too social. And I'm still working through what happened with Chrissie." I gave her a half-shrug and a sort of hangdog look. "I didn't mean to ignore you."

She seemed to relax a little, and nodded. "OKay, then - I won't bother you. But if you ever want to hang out, or something," she said, leaving it hanging. "They are doing a Star Wars marathon on MWTV tonight - I saw that and figured I'd offer to let you watch it on the big screen."

I gave her a Look. "You're going to let me have the living room tonight?" I asked.

"Well, I thought maybe I'd stick around and see why you like it so much. I've still never seen any of them, and..." She shrugged back.

Ah. Mom wanted company. I stepped forward out of my room and slipped my arms around her in an innocent embrace. "Mom, if you're lonely, or you want company, you can just say so."

She hugged me back, briefly, rubbing a hand along my back as she pulled away. "I know, I just...just kind of feeling unwanted. Some jackass on one of the dating sights just...vanished on me. We were chatting, and he just...stopped talking to me. Made me feel like some reject or something."

"Aw, mom - you'll find somebody. Here, let me hang up my towel and we can hang out for a bit." She nodded and headed into the living room, and I followed not long after with a bottle of Dr. Pepper in hand.

She was lounging on the couch when I came in...sipping one of her beers. When I say 'beer', I mean one of those malt liquor things, like Smirnoff Ice or something. My heart skipped a beat, but I never missed a step, walking over to settle down on the floor in front of the sofa. She flipped the channel to the MWTV station, just in time to miss about half of the opening crawl for the first movie of the series.

After it was over, I had to pee, so I stood up, and she lifted her empty bottle up, handing it to me. "Would you grab me another one on your way back?" she asked.

"Sure," I agreed, trying to hide the eagerness in my voice. It was already late - around 11pm - and she was one beer in. If she had another, she might be pretty well crashed for...later. I hurriedly did my business, washed my hands and tucked my phone into my shorts pocket, grabbing one of her drinks from the fridge on the way back to the living room, opening it and handing it down to her.

Once again, I dropped down to sit on the floor, let myself watch the movie. Well, I tried. About half an hour in, I felt her hand on my head, stroking my hair. Now, this isn't a big deal - when I was a little kid, she played with my hair all the time, when we were sitting together, watching TV together, or whatever. My family, or at least my mom, has always been fairly physically affectionate, with hugs, playing with hair, she even smacked me on the ass a couple of times in a playful way when I was young.

So I didn't think much of it, while at the same time focusing on the way she was finger-combing my hair. Of course, it made me think of That Night, and I started to get a hardon. The lights were out, so I wasn't terribly concerned that she might see, but I did shift a little to get more comfortable.

A commercial came on about a third of the way in, and I saw that her drink was mostly finished, so I grabbed it up, lifting it, and downed the rest as if it were a shot. It was completely on impulse, and her cry of 'Hey!' was real, if half-hearted. I got to my feet, with the empty bottle, and play-sneered at her. "Relax - I'll get you another one," and started for the kitchen without giving her a chance to demur.

I tossed out the empty, and brought another in, opening it. "I'll even help you drink it," I offered, when I saw her start to decline, taking a swig - a shallow swig, to be sure. I sat down again, offering her the bottle, and sort of on autopilot she lifted it for another sip.

It took some focus, but I managed to watch the movie, occasionally reaching for the bottle and lifting it for a sip - always a tiny little sip, sometimes doing little more than wetting my lips with it. And I watched the level in the bottle steadily declining. I counseled myself to patience, and let the rest of the movie play out before I made up my mind to do anything at all.

The ending music and credits came on with that burst of trumpet orchestral, and I quickly reached for the remote, dialing the volume almost all the way down. I glanced to the bottle, and saw that only an inch or so remained in it, and grinned to myself - she'd had almost three. I glanced over my shoulder, and sure enough, she was slouched over on one of the sofa arms, half stretched out, her loose-fitting tank top riding up a bit to bare some of her flat belly.

I glanced up at her face, and it was fully slack, her breath rising and falling in something more than a delicate little snore. "Mom?" I murmured, reaching out to lie my hand lightly on her shoulder, giving a little shake. I learned that it's a surprisingly delicate balance - I wanted to try hard enough to make sure she wouldn't wake up under easy provocation, but not so hard that I actually woke her up. Another gentle shake, another repetition of "Mom?. And no answer. She went right on snoring.

Almost rubbing my hands together with glee, I grabbed the bottle and downed the last swallow, to steel myself, then grabbed my phone out of my pocket. Licking my lips, I reached out to take hold of the bottom of her tank top, slowly, steadily lifting it upwards, watching her face the entire time.

And...gorgeous. My mom seldom, if ever, wore a bra at home - I did mention that she's fairly small on top. She certainly wasn't wearing one now. I got that tank up to just below her throat, and her gorgeous little tits just offered themselves out to me. Surprisingly firm, especially after having had kids, they were pale just delicious in the light of the television. This time, a little more bold than previously, I lifted my hand, reaching up to fit my fingers around one of those little mounds, giving it gentle squeezes, feeling the texture of the nipple across my palm as I slowly moved my hand over her body.

My cock was, of course, raging in my shorts as I copped that extended feel. And, oh god, I felt her nipple stiffen. It got tight, and the feel of it dragging back and forth over my palm was almost ticklish. I bit my lip to keep any sound from escaping, and flicked my eyes up to her face. Still out, eyes closed, soft snores still escaping her slightly-parted lips.

Fuck, I wanted to much. I wanted to pinch, to tweak, to tug and squeeze, but I didn't dare. I settled for rolling those tight little nubs between my fingers, recording it the whole time on my phone. They were perfect pink little bullets, and as I continued, I heard the pitch of her snores changes. At first, I froze, watching her like a hawk, but she went on snoring. But I swear - no, I *know* that she moaned a few times as I was playing with those perfect tits, mostly when I tweaked the nipples. The first time or two, it freaked me out and I almost fled, but as time went on, I got accustomed to it, and it made the whole thing exponentially more exciting.

I must have teased and groped her for a solid twenty minutes, but even though she occasionally gave me a moan or a soft sigh, she kept on snoring. And so I got even bolder. I leaned in, pressed my lips to one of those hard little teats and started to suck at it. It was so. Incredibly. Fucking. Hot. There I was, knelt down in front of the sofa, with my lips wrapped around my sexy mom's nipple. And I swear, it got even harder.

My cock was an iron bar - I swear it was harder than it had ever been in my life. I could feel it throbbing in my shorts as I sucked at that tit, holding my phone to the side, recording every second of it. If it ever got out, I was dead, because my face was in it, but...that's what thumb-drives were for. No way this was going on an easily-accessible hard drive.

I kept suckling, although I kept my ears open for any noise from her that might suggest an impending wakefulness. And then she started to stir - nothing dramatic, just little twitches and shivers, and I figure...that was it. It was time to stop. Any time now. Just...a couple seconds. It took an active, willful decision to make myself pull away from that tight, stuff, pink nipple - you know the kind. When you're doing something you need to stop doing, and you make up your mind 'Right, and *now*' to make yourself do it? Or when there's something you *should* do.

So with a soft popping sound, I let that nipple slip out of my mouth, licking my lips, watching my mother's slim, petite body wriggle slightly - I really hope I gave her some amazingly good dreams. I knelt there, transfixed for a moment, looking at that jutting, damp pink teat, shivering slightly as she breathed, my own breathing accelerated and fast. Swallowing, I slowly, reluctantly, reached out to take hold of her tank top, pulling it downward to cover her chest. I bid those perfect little breasts goodbye in my mind, then stood up, looking down, taking the whole scene in.

Then I decided to pretend to be a good son - I cleaned up the clutter, threw away bottles and snack wrappers, turned off the television, and carefully jockeyed her down to lie on the sofa, instead of being slumped across one of the couch arms, so she wouldn't get cramps and cricks. I dragged the couch blanket over her, and padded out of the room to my bedroom...and went straight to my desk, dropping into the chair and was naked from the waist down before my ass hit the seat.

I don't think I'd ever climaxed that fast - a few strokes and I was spurting all over my chest, without even having a chance to grab my towel. But it was worth it. Oh, so very worth it.