Needful Ch. 01

Helen's divorce had hit her hard. The court papers had come in the mail and she now just sat in her room staring out the bay window. Her twenty year old son, Tim, asked if she was okay. All she had said was she would get by. At his age, it didn't sound very reassuring. To make matters worse, Helen's new ex, Allen, was supposed to stop by to gather up the things that the court decree granted him that he hadn't already taken from the house. Sometimes Tim thought he left some of this stuff behind just so he could had an excuse to come back one more time and hassle Helen. When things went sour between them, Allen had turned into a real bastard.

To a twenty year old, like Tim, it was crazy to ditch a woman who was as loving and giving as his mom was. Especially when she looks as good as Helen did. He guessed his dad didn't know what a good thing he'd had. Then again, they hadn't done their fighting in front of him, so he didn't know all the shit that went wrong.

Neither Helen nor Tim had felt much like having dinner, so they just sat, lost in their own thoughts, waiting for Allen to show up, get his stuff and clear out. Helen waited in her room and Tim stared out the living room window. As the sky darkened, he began to nod off.

He woke to the sound of someone pounding on the front door. Getting to his feet, he headed for the door. Helen came down just as he was getting to the door. Her eyes were red and her face had that puffy look that betrayed her crying in her room. She backed up to the bottom of the stairs and said, "Let him in, Tim."

Tim nodded and opened the door. His father stepped over the threshold, a smug look on his face. He smiled a greeting at his son, then turned to Helen. The smug look returned to his face.

Without preamble, she said "Allen, the rest of your belongings are stacked by the TV in the family room. If you think anything is missing, let me know and we'll get it for you."

She didn't want him searching through the house on his own. Tim was grateful that everything seemed to be there. Allen thanked her for her thoroughness and gathered up his belongings. Scowling, Tim opened the door for his father. Before exiting, Allen turned in the doorway, looking back at Helen. He just stood there and looked her over slowly. She shifted in place, uncomfortable under his appraisal.

He said, "If you had taken as great care of your body as you have of your career, this might not have happened."

With that, he turned on his heel and left. The smug look never left his face. Tim watched his father lug his things to the back of his car. In his car, there was a young woman peering up at the house. She was smiling as Allen approached the car and put his things in the trunk. She looked pretty, bathed in the soft light of street lights. He guessed that was what his father was after these days. Young and pretty. It sounded like a mid-life crisis.

Closing the door, heard his mother sobbing behind him. When he turned to look at her, she retreated back upstairs to her room. His father had been mean to her lots of times before, but this time it cut deep. He knew his mother was no twenty year old, but other than a slight fullness in her hips and tummy from having twins, she was trim and good looking. Hell! A couple of his friends said they would like a girl as pretty as her. He had to confess that he too had wondered what she looked like when she was twenty. Of course, he had seen pictures of her from her wedding and first couple years of marriage to his dad, so he knew what she had looked like. She was a knockout. And she was still pretty now. She was pretty enough to fantasize about. At five foot, five, and nicely curved, she filled out blouses and skirts in a highly appealing manner. Her dark brown hear framed a softly featured face and her brown, almond shaped eyes could easily pull you in, if she wanted them too. She was a beautiful woman.

So, to Tim, his father's remark seemed unfair and made no sense to him. He allowed that their years together may have dulled some of the excitement, but his mom was a loving and responsive woman. At least, as far as he could tell. She had always been an emotional person and had always been obliging of any request that he had ever heard asked of her.

Very confusing

On this night, Helen paid a high price in tears, fear, hurt and insecurity over the final blow to her feminine ego. It angered him to think that his dad would so deliberately insult the woman he had married and raised kids with. He remember him as a decent man when he was growing up.

But, on this night, his father had not been a good man and he hated him for it. Helen spent a couple more hours in her room before he thought she might need some food and took her a sandwich and iced tea. She looked back at him and smiled through what seemed to be the last few tears she had in her.

"Oh Tim. That's really sweet of you. Just put it on the desk for now."

"Are you going to be all right, Mom?" he asked.

She sniffled one more time, rising from the bay window seat and crossed to meet him at the desk. "It looks like I should be," she said. "It seems that there is still at least one man around here that thinks I'm worth some time and effort."

Hugging him, she said, "Thanks so much for caring, Tim."

"Well, you raised me this way!"

She leaned back, her hands still on his hips, and looked into his eyes. Then she asked the question stand-up comics say is a killer for relationships. Thank God he was only her son and not her lover or something.

"Tim? Do you think I'm pretty?" she asked. The slightest of smiles crossed her face as she read the blush on his. "Oh, Tim. That is so sweet. You just made my day!"

She hugged him close. Only this time, it was tighter and there was a sense of desperation in it, as though she was happy to believe that he found her attractive, but clinging to it as though not convinced.

Maybe it was that feeling of uncertainty, or just his own suppressed lust for her, but he felt the need to make her really know that he found her desirable. With a certain amount of fear, he placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her upper body back just enough to look squarely into her face, yet not force her to release the embrace she had clung to for these several minutes. He moved his hands slowly to her neck, bringing her face to his.

The first kiss he gave her, he placed on her still tear stained cheek. The second kiss was gently laid on the delicate ridge of her brow. At that moment, her body relaxed against his and the nerve to do more surged within him. The third kiss he gave to his suffering mother was a timid, incestuous kiss on the mouth.

"Oh, Tim...", she breathed into the kiss.

With only that encouragement and increasing lust in his veins, the kiss lengthened and deepened. He felt her lips part, inviting him to do so as well. When his lips parted, her tongue slowly began to explore his mouth. His hands slid to her shoulders and down her back. He pulled her to him, as the kiss fed their needs.

Tim was a typical horny male whose cravings were enhanced by the need to reassure his mother's mind and heart about her appearance, to let her know that she was still sexy. She was hurting from Allen's parting comment. She had also been without a lover for at least the eight months since Allen moved out and who knows how long before that. All the wrong buttons were being pushed and they both succumbed.

For her part, Helen molded her lean, mature body to his as if seeking to feel as much of him as she could. With no chance to satisfy the urge to feel her breasts in his hands, Tim dropped his hands further and squeezed the globes of his mother's buttocks.

"TIM!" she squealed, pressing more firmly into his groin.

The discomfort of his trapped cock made him squirm. This fired her desire even further. The kiss took on an urgency that would not be denied. He felt his face being crushed by hers. Helen's hands pushed between them, tearing open his shirt then reaching to unfasten his belt.

Tim's clothes were discarded like so much chafe. The entire time she spent undressing him, she kissed the parts of him that she uncovered. When she had finished stripping him, she stood, dropped her head just enough to pear into his eyes from under her brow. Her breath had quickened, her flesh reddened with passion. Without loosing eye contact she quickly removed her shoes, sweater, slacks and panties.

Holding him in her intense stare, in a voice he did not recognize as his mother's, she challenged, "Do you still think I am pretty?"

The question was no longer a simple question. Now it was a challenge to see if she deserved the meager praise he had given her. He did not trust words to be the answer she sought.

On the surface, her question seemed silly. At thirty-nine years of age, she was still trim with wide inviting hips, breasts that were full and round, and long, dark brown hair that shone in the dimmest light. She had, now and then, complained of the extra weight she carried after having twins and the sag in her breasts.

To Tim, the funny thing was, these things made her look sexier. He had never told her that, but he was about to. The extra weight she complained of was no more than a teasing softness in her stomach. And the sag of her breasts was slight and did no more than give them an appearance of greater fullness. For him, all her imagined shortcomings were delicious enhancements.

So in answer to her question, he stepped close to her, cupped those supposedly sagging breasts in his warm hands and gently squeezed. Her eyes closed as a moan escaped her lips. Bending down to her left breast, he licked the nipple lightly.

"Oh, that feels so good, Tim!" she whispered through trembling lips.

Straightening, he spun her around and pushed her onto the desk. Leaning back on her arms, she stretched out before him like a sculpture to be patiently examined. His hands return to her chest, lightly grazing her engorged nipples. Her eyes bore into him, urging him to continue. Smoothing his hands down her sides, following the flair of her luscious hips, he brought his hands to rest on the tops of her thighs. He leaned on her thighs, pushing her legs apart. There was no need for force. She adjusted her feet to accommodate her new position. Sitting back on his heels, Tim let his hands roam over the gentle swell of her belly that so bothered her, but so enticed him. Leaning forward, he hugged her hips to him, kissing her belly, tonguing her navel and licking wet trails over the slight roundness of her lower abdomen. Her arms remained a prop behind her, but she lost strength in her elbows and sank back more toward a prone position.

"Oh yes! Go on!" she implored.

She trembled more as his mouth made unpracticed love to her lower body. At length, his tongue made its way to her thighs, then to where her thighs met. Her scent was heavenly. The heat he felt on his face from her felt like an invitation to sex before a fireplace. Pushing her legs further apart, he buried his tongue in her.

"Oh God, YES! Oh, yes!" she gasped.

Her hands suddenly grasped his head, pulling him harder into the furrow between her legs. He pushed his tongue into her, tickling the walls within. Her pelvis rocked hard into his face, her body gathering steam for where she was headed. His lips closed on her clit, sucking it into his mouth. He brought his right hand from around her knee, pushing his fingers firmly into the steamy hole below his sucking lips.

Helen went rigid for a moment, then began thrusting her hips hard into his face. "Do it faster. Faster, please! Please! PLEASE!"

He did. And he was rewarded for doing her strained bidding. He had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. Her body was locked in contractions, her breasts swollen, her whole chest reddened with passion. Her juices were dribbling out onto his chin as he still tortured her sex with tongue and fingers.

She remained lost in the throws of passion for several moments when his own urges overtook him. Withdrawing from her groin, he stood before her. Her orgasms subsided. She raised her head to look at him. Pleasured she may have been, but need in her eyes told him she needed one last thing to know for certain. Nothing he had done so far convinced her that his body wanted hers. Her pleading eyes dropped to his cock, staring.

As Tim stepped between her legs, she raised them, grabbing the backs of her knees. Her full womanly mons, puffy and wet, was shown to him at its most inviting. Leaning that last small distance between their bodies, Tim guided his cock into her body. For a moment, he rested the head of his cock against her cervix. Looking down at her face, he saw a strange contentment in her expression. It was not the sex. It was the warmth of another human being. She felt loved. He found it odd to sense this.

Muscles within her contracted on his cock, bringing Tim out of his reverie. It was the least of urgings, but the message was clear and his own desperately needed release set his body in motion. With a will of their own, his hips began thrusting. The surprising tightness insured that he would not be long in gaining release. Each time his cock hit bottom, she winced, but urged him to continue, to drive fully into her. The remaining length of exposed cock flexed, pushing back at his own groin.

Pumping hard now, his hands reached forward to massage his mother's chest. Almost as soon as he squeezed her breasts, she began to orgasm. Arching her back to meet the spasms, he felt the change in the angle of Helen's hips. It clutched his cock in just the right way. As her grasping vagina pulled at his cock, the damp friction fired every nerve it touched. His hips crushed harder into the woman before him. He melted into her, exploded into her, battered at her. She met every assault, with a hunger for it.

Drained, Tim remained standing between her legs, leaning on the desk, a hand on either side of her. She rocked her body forward, reaching to embrace him. She nestled her head into his neck whispering, "Do you know how long I have needed to be loved again?"

Tim whispered back to her, "No. But do you believe me now, when I say that you are pretty and lovely and sexy?".

Tilting her head back from his shoulder, she sighed, nodding an uncertain agreement. "Tim. I love what you just did with me, but what you see and what I see are two different things.

"Take me to the bed and lay down with me?" she ask. "I need the warmth of you next to me for a while."

"Sure, Mom." So saying, he hefted her from the desk, her legs still wrapped around him. They dropped onto the bed, untangled themselves and crawled under the covers. The sheets were crisp and clean, and soon warmed with their body heat. They lay cradled in each other's arms.

There's such a difference between having sex with a girl in a car, a park or anywhere else, having to pick up and go home afterward and laying down in a comfortable bed together with the idea of waking up together in the morning. It felt so intimate. It felt like the icing on the cake to enjoy the closeness of a bed, with no need to leave it during the night. Tim began to understand some of his mother's sense of loss.

Even if his father had become a real jerk, he had still been the lover that Helen shared that intimacy, that bed, with. He gave a brief moment of thought to how much he was going to miss it after just this one night. His thoughts turned back to his mother's insecurities about herself.

"Mom, do you remember Becky? The girl I dated last year?"

"Yes, Tim. What about her?"

"Do you think she was attractive?" he asked.

"Very much so. Why do you ask?"

"Because she thought of herself as plain."

Helen objected, "But she's a very pretty girl."

"You know that and I know that, and so does anyone who sees her. Her problem was that she used models that she saw everyday in women's magazines and advertisements as what to compare herself to. I think you have the same problem. I don't know who you may be using to compare yourself to, but you are ignoring how good you look just because you don't think you are a '10'.

"And if you don't think you are good looking, consider this; I can name five of my friends that would love to get you in bed. I know! My friends are all horny young males, but you would be surprised how picky horny young men can get when they are just fantasizing. Even more so when you are talking about a guys mother and to his face."

Then Helen said something that left him dumfounded. She said, "So do I have sex with your friends one at a time, or all together?"

"Mom!" Tim gasped in shock. "You can't be serious!"

"Why not?" she chided. "Maybe I want a lot more of what you just gave me and I feel a little strange about getting it from my own son."

He chuckled, admitting, "I guess you're right about that part of it. It did feel weird making love to the woman I call 'Mom', even though I loved every minute of it. But I fail to see what you would do with more than a couple of them at a time."

"Ah!," she sighed. "That is where your lack of experience shows its ugly head. Shall I tell you about all the ways men and women can please each other?"

"I guess that I would be a fool to pass up the wisdom you have regarding such things." Tim chuckled at the thought of sex education from his mother. He relaxed, rolling onto his back. Helen nestled close to him, resting her head on his shoulder. He closed his arms around her.

"Okay, Mom. Teach me. Tell me about the things of which I am so uninformed."

Helen poked him in the ribs for his feigned smugness. In mock authoritarian disdain, she said, "Don't make fun of what you don't understand."

Then she chuckled and snuggled close. He loved the warmth of her body. It also sounded so good to hear her laugh again. It had been months since he'd heard her emit any sort of laughter.

That thought suggested something to him. He began poking at Helen's ribs, looking for some sign of ticklishness. He was rewarded with a squealing giggle.

"What are you doing?" she challenged, struggling to fend off the assault. Not saying a word, he persisted in his probing and invoked more protesting giggles. Soon the giggles gave way to laughter and Helen became helpless in the throws of uncontrolled laughter.

She squirmed, fought back, yelled his name, begging him to stop. Finally, when she begged to use the bathroom, he relented. He hugged her close, briefly, then threw back the covers to allow her to retreat. She scrambled to the bathroom where, with unashamed relief she dropped onto the toilet without closing the door and let go of the induced urination.

When she was finished, she rose weakly from the toilet and managed a menacing return to the bedroom. Her hands rose to a threatening pose. Tim broke out laughing.

Helen stopped in her tracks and challenged him. "What's so funny, mister?"

Struggling with his laughter, He managed to remind her that they both knew that he wasn't the least bit ticklish and that any attempt at it would just have her back in the bathroom in a few minutes. She dropped her hands, clearing her head of the unthinking need to get even with him. Then she chuckled at herself for forgetting about that not-so-minor detail.

Like an idiot, he then opened his arms to her, inviting her back into his embrace. She then turned the tables on him by switching to something against which he was not prepared to defend himself. Hugging him and still smiling over the loss of self control she proceeded to get her revenge.

Her hand move to the base of his cock, resting there briefly. She then began stroking the underside of his cock with her fingernails. The affect was immediate. His manhood regained some of its former rigidity and engorged size. Helen looked into his eyes, watching him lose himself in the pleasure of her touch. Her ministrations became varied as she grasped the thickness of his shaft and slowly pumped him, then traced those deft fingertips over the swollen flesh or squeeze the head in her hand.