My Son’s Penis Is Online Pt. 03

"Can I come in?" I asked, unsure if I wanted to wake up my son.

"Mom...? Sure, come in," my son said. His voice sounded like he had been sleeping.

It was a Saturday morning, which is what had me thinking about whether to disturb him. I came in quietly. He had apparently not expected me to wake him up this morning, and I wanted to be as quiet as possible, so as not to make him feel like he had to get up. I wanted to be there early, before the rest of the house woke up, to spend some time alone with my son. I wanted to be part of his life now, and not just someone who happened to live in the same house.

Over the last few days, we had gotten closer than ever, exchanging hugs and taking every chance to show each other affection--at least as long as no one else was around. When we were alone in the house, I had walked through the house in underwear, and I had caught him changing his clothes more often than normal.

Now I was standing in my son's room in my pajamas.

He was slowly waking up, and opened his eyes.

"Mom..." he said, seemingly surprised. "What time is it?"

"It's early, you don't have to get up" I said, and sat down on his bed, "Can I just talk to you for a few minutes?"

He seemed happy to have me there after all, and was smiling.

"Sure," he said and moved over. "Come in."

It was a bit strange being there with him, but he had a comfortable bed, and I could not turn down my dear son's heartwarming invitation. I told myself that this was like being in any other room in the house, although I did not completely believe myself.

"How was your night?" I asked as I laid down by his side. I could feel his eyes looking at my chest. I turned my body toward him, in practice giving him a front view of my upper body.

"Fine," he said, looking up at my face. "How was yours?"

"My night was okay," I said looking at him, with a sudden trembling sensation inside. "Your days must be going good though, considering how loving you have been lately." I was trying to make sure he understood how much I appreciated him. I had no idea what my son's days had been like. All I knew was he had changed. That our relationship had changed.

"They have been good," he said. "I have been going through some deep thoughts." he said and paused for a few seconds. "I think you have no idea of what I have been thinking."

I looked at him, and could sense that his thoughts were serious. His eyes had a stern expression, and he seemed to have a lot to say.

I was nervous, and a bit afraid of what his serious look may mean. I thought that he may be having some trouble at school, or maybe he had met a girlfriend. But it slowly dawned on me that he wanted to talk about me. I could not know where this was going to lead.

What if he wanted to stop our progress? Go back to how it was before? Or a more 'normal' mother-and-son relationship, where the only time you see each other is for a quick dinner, and the only possible bodily contact is the odd hand on the shoulder, or a hug after not seeing each other for a week?

I realized I had told myself that I had made my son happy with my recent openness. Had I pushed this too far? Had my need for intimacy with my son taken over my sense of respect for his privacy?

"Of course, honey," I began, "I cannot know what you think unless you tell me."

"Mom, can I be honest with you?" he asked, his eyes once again wandering over my breasts.

He looked up, and our eyes locked.

"You can always be honest with me," I assured him.

His eyes looked almost sad, with a small, subtle smile on his face. I could not make out his feelings.

He reached out and placed a hand on my waist.

"I don't want to lose you, mom," he said. "I'm having thoughts..." he paused for a few seconds. "That I don't want to lose you. I don't want to lose this close mother-son relationship we have." He seemed close to tears.

My heart skipped a beat. My son was afraid he might lose me.

"Oh, baby," I said, not knowing what to say. "Don't worry, you can never lose me. I'm your mother."

"I know, mom," he said and seemed to relax. "But it's that I don't want to..." he was quiet, and I awaited his continuation. "That I don't want to ruin what we have. Our special closeness." He seemed to have difficulty expressing what he wanted to say. "I'm thinking about..." he paused again, and seemed to take a deep breath. "What I could do to keep that connection. Or to keep it at the best level we've been."

The house was still quiet. He slowly moved his hand on my waist, brushing his fingers against me.

"We did speak about not being shy in front of each other," I said, trying to make sure he understood I wanted to know what he was thinking. "So, is this what you have been thinking about?

"Yeah, partly..." he said. "I'm thinking about how we should both keep this close, and I am hoping..." he took a second to think about what he was going to say next. "That we can continue to be even closer."

"Oh, baby," I said and took him in my arms. He moved closer to me, and we joined in a hug while laying down in his bed. "Of course we can."

He was still under his covers, and although we hugged I felt separated from him, and tried to push his cover out of the way.

He gently took my hand to stop me, and said: "Mom, I don't think that's a good idea."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I'm..." he said but interrupted himself. "I don't want to shock you again."

Before I could even make sense of what he was saying, a knock was heard from the door.

I took a deep breath and got up.

"Who is it?" I asked loudly, although I already knew the answer.

"It's me," my husband responded through the door. "What are you doing in there?"

"Just speaking," I said and pulled in my night clothes in order to remove any evidence of having laid down in my son's arms. My son seemed to have the same idea, and flattened out his bed covers.

I was slightly nervous, wondering what my husband would say about me spending the early weekend hours in my son's room.

I opened the bedroom door. I had not even heard him get up, but he was holding a cup of coffee in his hand, which was evidence that he'd been up a while.

"Good morning," he said and looked over my shoulder towards our son, still in his bed.

"Morning," I said and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Is there coffee?"

"Yeah," he answered.

"Great. I'll be down in a bit," I said, apparently managing to avoid any awkward questions.

My husband turned back towards the kitchen, and I left the bedroom door open.

I looked back at my son. He looked relieved, as if he'd gotten away with something, and it would be wrong to say I felt different.

"I better go there," I explained. "But dad will be away this evening. We can continue to speak then, if you want."

"Fine with me, mom," my son said.

I felt anxious.