Obsessed Ch. 04 - Skin-to-Skin

Note: All characters depicted are at least 18 years of age.

Later that night.

...

Finally home, after an aggravating drive from town, I shut the door harder than I intended, almost slamming it, behind me. I loosen the knot in my tie, undo the top two buttons of my shirt, my fingers now slick with sweat. I quickly walk into the kitchen, yank open the door of the fridge, and pull out a powerade.

As I'm guzzling away, the light from the stairs comes on. Frantic footfalls down the stairs. I set my drink down, collapsing against the island, my face cradled by my hands.

"Oh my god! Grant!" My mother calls out in concern. I glance through my fingers, noticing she's in a short, lacey robe. Haven't seen that number on her in a while. Still looks hot on her.

The thought only fuels my shame over my actions earlier in the evening.

"Grant? Honey? What's wrong?" she calmly asks as she kneels beside me. I feel an arm wrap around my shoulder.

"Oh honey, you're soaking wet! C'mon, let's get you out of this suit." She states, as she helps haul me upright. She starts pulling my suit jacket off, and only when I feel the air rush to my back do I realize how much I've been sweating. A chill runs through me.

I also realize that I'm hyperventilating now, which explains my mother's swift actions in taking off my suit. I avoid looking at her with all of my being.

"Ok, honey, I'm going to untie your laces. You start pulling off your shirt if you can." She says, bending down in front of me. Now I'm really not going to look, knowing damn well that her tits may actually pop out of her robe. It wouldn't be the first time.

My fingers fumble through a few buttons before she comes back up. She yanks the shirt tails up from my slacks and undoes the rest. After a few moments, my shirt is peeled off and I kick out of my shoes. I brace my hands on my mother's shoulders, trying to catch my balance, when, to my surprise, she starts undoing my belt.

It's still dark in the kitchen, only the light from the stairs trickling through. I notice my mother's face, stricken with worry. I try not to sexualize the situation. Clearly now is not the time to think your mother is making a move on you when she's frantically undressing her hyperventilating, drenched-in-sweat, aggravated son... Or at least I haven't seen that scenario play out in porn before.

Just down to my boxers, also soaked, she guides me to the table, pulls out a chair, and plops me down in it. She tilts my head back a little, "Here, sweety, keep drinking this," as she pours some powerade over my lips. I drink a bit too fast, and some goes down the wrong pipe, causing me to cough profusely. Not great when I also feel like I'm suffocating.

"Easy, baby. Easy" she says softly. Her hand caressing my sweaty head. Her other hand, now free from the bottle, glides over my back.

"Oh my gosh, your skin is on fire! Hang on, baby, mama will be right back!"

I hear her bare feet running on the kitchen tile towards the laundry room, I'm assuming. It's hard to tell over my heartbeat pounding away in my ears along with my heavy, gasping breaths. I barely hear her return, but she grabs ahold of my wrists and starts pulling me up.

"Ok, baby. I need you to walk with me, ok? Just lean on me. C'mon." She slides beneath my arm and starts walking with me.

The back door opens and closes behind us a second later. I feel the cool wood of the back porch. One step. Two step. Three step. Grass. I hear my mother panting as she pulls me forward. Not too long after, I feel the transition from grass to rough wood, then we stop.

"Hold tight, just for a second, sweety!" she says, letting me go briefly before coming back up behind me. "Ok, on three, I need you to take a deep breath in! One...Two..."

Before she says three, I feel her arms wrap around me, pulling me in tightly to her. I barely register something drastically different with her as she yells, "Three!" dragging us both forward, plunging into the cold, spring fed pond.

The shock of the cold causes me to scream beneath the water. Air bubbles tumbling out. I thrash, trying to reach the surface, but my mother holds me tight beneath the cold water. It isn't until I stop thrashing that she gently pulls me up.

Resurfacing, I start coughing up the water I swallowed in my effort to get topside. But, as I do, I feel better. Calmer. It's then that I finally realize what I clocked earlier...my mother's skin is against me. No lace robe. No bathing suit. Nothing! I feel her hardened nipples pressing into my back. Before she pulled us into the water, I could swear I even felt her patch of pubic hair against my lower hamstring.

Under any other circumstance, I'd be hard as rock in half a second flat. But now... well, now I just enjoy the warmth of my mother's embrace in the cold pond. I reach up and lay my arms over hers, pulling them tighter to me as I catch my breath. Her chin rests on my shoulder.

"That's it, baby. Breath. Just breath." she says soothingly.

We float in the pond for a while. Long enough for the water to feel warm, or maybe that's just me going numb. Either way, I fully open my eyes for the first time since I got home and look up. The moon is new, letting the stars take the stage tonight. My mother's warm breath on my shoulder. Her hand rubbing my chest.

"You feeling better, sweetheart?" she asks. I nod. "Ok, let's get out and get you dried off." I nod again, as she starts pulling me towards the bank. In the shallow part, we find our footing and make our way onto the grass. I try to keep standing but collapse to my knees. Numb it is. My mom stumbled as she still had a hold on me but let me go to fetch a towel.

I look over, my eyes adjusted to the darkness now, and confirm that my mother is indeed nude. Again, under any other circumstance. I just try to take as many mental pictures as possible. As she turns around, I look back down to the ground, hoping she didn't catch me peeking at her.

She drapes the towel over me and pulls my shoulders back, guiding me to sit down. As my butt hits the ground, she starts vigorously drying me, her tits swinging in my peripheral vision. She moves behind me to get my back.

"We don't need to talk about this tonight, ok? I think we've both been through the wringer. We'll just dry off, head back inside, and go to bed. Sound good?" her hands still gliding over my back through the towel.

"Ok." Is about all I can think of to say.

I feel her hands stop, then her arms wrap around me, pulling me into a rear hug. Her head to the side of mine.

"You scared the shit out of me, kiddo." She states calmly, but a little shaky at the end.

I fall back into her hug, resting my head in the crook of her shoulder and laying my arms on hers, "I'm so sorry, mom." I croak.

She pulls me tighter, her face pressing against mine.

"It's alright. As long as you're ok. That's all that matters right now."

I softly nod.

She pulls her face away, but replaces it with three long, hard kisses to my cheek. She clutches me close one last time before she pulls away, rubbing my shoulders.

"Stay there for a sec, hun." she asks quietly.

I glance over and see her bending over, grabbing her own towel. That...ass! I watch for a few seconds as she gives herself a quick rub down with the towel. Her nipples are still hard, swaying with her motions. Her butt jiggles a little, too. I take as many mental pictures as I can before she wraps herself up with the towel and ties it around her. She bends down again to pick up what looks like her discarded, lace robe.

I look back down as she turns back towards me.

"Alright, let's get you up." She says, reaching down with both hands.

I meet them with mine and she helps hoist me up to stand.

"Can you walk, ok? Or?" she asks while still holding onto my hands.

"I think so," my pride replies, knowing full well that my legs still feel like jello. My first few steps land me right back into my mom's anticipating arms as she huffs trying to keep me up.

"That's...a no, then." She states, with a knowing snark, somewhat hidden by her struggling to keep me up on her own.

Wrapping our arms around each other, we slowly make our way back to the house.

...

Inside my room, my mom still has an arm around me as she walks me to my bed. As I let go of her, she reaches down to not only drop my towel but also my boxers.

"Mom, wha..."

"Baby...it's late. I know damn well this is how you sleep, and I don't care. Just saving you the trouble of kicking them off when I step out the door." She huffed, pulling the covers back on her way back up. "Now," she sighs heavily, "get your butt in there and get some sleep."

I try not to focus on the semi I have from glancing at her cleavage after climbing all the way up the stairs, and I'm also hoping mom is too tired to notice. Once I settle, she drapes the covers over me and lightly tucks me in.

"Sleep well, baby." She kisses the top of my head, "I love you." brushing her hand over my cheek.

"I love you too, mom" I reply while almost immediately falling into a dead sleep. I didn't even hear her leave the room.

...

The next morning comes, and I awaken on my own. As my eyes finally open and adjust to the light, I notice my door is still cracked. 'Is mom still sleeping?' I wonder.

I step up out of bed and walk towards my window, looking out across our land. Looking down, I notice that our towels from last night are out on the line, as well as her lace robe. My cock twitches at the memory of seeing her in that again.

I slip on my shorts and make my way to investigate if mom is up or not.

Passing by her room, her door is wide open, and peering in, her bed is made, bathroom door open, no one in sight.

I head downstairs. Entering the kitchen, I hear her call out, "I'm out on the porch, honey!"

I nod to myself and grab a mug and the coffee pot. Walking out onto the back porch, mom is gently swinging on the porch swing. I raise the pot to her, gesturing if she needs a refill. "Ah, you read my mind. Thank you, baby." She blows a kiss as I fill her cup.

With it being a Sunday, she's wearing a light, black, cloth robe with slippers on her feet. It's still surprisingly warm for this time of year, but we're not mad about it. I set the pot down on the side table and join her on the swing, letting the late morning sun wash over us.

"How'd you sleep?" she asks after a moment of silence.

"Like a log. And you?"

"Like a wet log." She replies, not hiding the sass at all. She sips her coffee while side-eying me.

"I'm sorry, mom. Last night was..."

She waved her hand dismissively.

"You don't have to apologize, sweety. But you did scare me. It's not every night you come home in a full-blown panic attack. After feeling how hot you were, I didn't know what else to do but take you to the pond."

"Well, it calmed me down. And quick! So, thank you." I turn my head, giving her a sincere and loving smile.

"No need to thank me, either. It's what moms do." She replies, returning my smile and caressing my cheek.

We go back to looking out at the land, just taking in the serene morning. But, after a few moments of us just sipping our coffees, mom breaks the silence.

"So..."

"So." I reply.

"Do you...want to tell me what happened last night?" She inquires, turning to face me, her leg bent on the seat of the swing, her arm now propping up her head.

I sigh in dread, looking for answers in my half full coffee mug. Finding none.

"I don't know."

"I don't buy it. Try again." She responds sharply.

"We...we were having a great time. She looked gorgeous in the dress you helped pick out for her, she loved the flowers, we had a nice talk on the way to the dance. We danced a lot, talked a lot, the next thing we knew, the lights came up and everyone was heading out. As we got back to the car, she invited me back to her place, saying that her parents are out of town for the weekend."

"I knew she was lying about them being home! But sorry, go on." mom interrupts.

"Anyways...umm...we get to her house, she tells me to wait outside for a sec, she goes in for a few minutes, and then she opens the door and tells me to come in. When I walked in, she had a whole bunch of candles lit up, all over the living room. She had on some RnB music, it smelled like she freshened up her perfume or something. It was a lot, but I was feeling ok."

"We sat on the couch and started making out. We were getting handsy, I helped her out of her dress, but when she started helping me out of my suit...that's...that's..."

"When you started panicking." Mom finishes.

"...Yeah." I groggily respond.

"It's ok if it that's the reason, but were you really that freaked out about possibly losing your virginity?"

"Mom!" I snapped up, my eyes locked with hers in both shock and anger. How did she know?

"Easy, honey! Easy! Look...when Sandra came over to look for a dress, we...had a little girl-to-girl talk, annnd....it just came up. It's not a big deal." She so boldly claims.

I toss my head and my hands back in pure embarrassment.

"Oh relax! It's not that big a deal, honey! Why do you think I let you take the car or prepped you with a few condoms. I was your age too, once. I know what's up with the 'post-dance activities." She states nonchalantly.

"Besides, I know you. Probably even better than you know yourself. You were on cloud nine all day, every day when you two were fooling around a couple years ago. You haven't been the same since. And, since she has been your only close, and intimate relationship, plus her confession, well... two and two make four, baby." She shrugs and takes a long sip of her coffee.

I sit there, now staring back into my cup, knowing full well that she doesn't know me better than I do. If she did, she'd be repulsed at the fact that I'm head over heels in love with her. Mind, body, and soul.

She speaks up again, while I stew. "Look, honey, it's not the end of the world that you're a virgin. Any girl who you tell that to is going to feel incredibly special, like you were waiting for them. And it's ok to get nervous about losing it, too, whether you really like a girl or not."

She set her cup down and sandwiched my free hand between hers. "But, since it sounds like you left Sandra in such a hurry, I doubt you even told her the reason you were leaving. I think you should call her, and soon, and tell her what happened. I think she may be thinking that it was something she did, sweety." She says with her sweet, motherly tone, complete with a slight tilt of the head.

I close my eyes and sigh, dumbfoundedly. I had never considered that. "Yeah." I respond quietly, "I'll do that, mom. Thanks." I rise from the swing and head inside before she has the chance to say or ask anything else. I feel guilty enough as it is. I don't need to drop the bombshell and admit that I didn't sleep with Sandra because I was nervous about losing my V-card. I left because it felt like I was cheating...on mom.

...

Late at night. Lying in my bed. Nude but for the light sheet covering me up to my waist.

The rest of the day was mostly uneventful. I did call Sandra and explain myself. She was relieved, and glad that I was ok. She thanked me for explaining myself, even though I knew what I told her wasn't the truth. To my surprise, she asked if we could go out sometime. I told her that I'd think about it, but that it'd be nice.

Mom left me alone for most of the day. Only interrupting my melancholy for meals and iced tea refills. She just had on a thin, light pink tunic dress that barely made it to mid-thigh. I wondered if at some point, when she figured I was going to be in my room for the day, if she shucked it off and cleaned the house naked. A wicked part of my dark brain thought that I should discreetly buy and place a camera or two around the house to find out for myself.

I shook the thought away. Even just imagining her cleaning the house nude had me tenting the sheet. I didn't need to feed the intrusive thought train.

She made ravioli for dinner tonight. With hand made pasta. Ohhh. Just thinking of her doing that nude...

----

I see her. Nude. In the kitchen. Her hair is up in a green bandana with a white, fern leaf pattern. A Chili Pepper song playing. Maybe, "Tell Me Baby," one that really get her tits bouncing to the rhythm. Especially during the fast part of the second verse. I always love watching her dance.

She leans onto the island as she kneads the pasta dough. As she pushes down, it causes her to come up on her tip toes, using all the strength she has, to press down on the dough, causing her big, wide, pear-shaped ass to flex and jiggle.

After dusting the dough with flour, she simply claps her hands together, leaving a layer of flour dust on her tits. She slaps her hands against her stomach and thighs to get the rest off, leaving flour smudges on her flat tummy and thick legs.

I see her at the counter by the sink, dipping her delicate hands into a bowl of meat, herbs, and breadcrumbs. She pulls out a hunk and softly presses it together, massaging it into a ball shape. She takes her time rolling the balls in her hands before placing them, one by one, in the cut-out ravioli.

Back at the island, she's grating fresh parmesan and romano cheeses. Her arms moving up and down, aggressively shaking her tits. Enough to make her nipples hard as rocks. Afterwards, she licks her luscious lips, as she sprinkles the cheese over top the open ravioli. Now, closing up the pasta with a fork, I watch as she goes into hyperfocus. Ensuring that every piece of ravioli is perfectly sealed. Her tongue slightly sticking out in concentration. Her nipples are still quite hard.

At the stove, she tends the sauce that has been simmering all day. She raises the spoon to her lips, but a few drops fall on her chest. She gasps. The sauce droplets start dripping down her breast and one threatens to fall from her hardened nip. She quickly swipes a finger to catch it, and immediately brings it to her mouth. Sucking on her saucy finger, she moans in delight. It must be delicious.

"Oh!" She gasps in surprise, her body becoming upright and stiff, her tits and ass jiggling from the immediacy of the motion. She almost forgot to set the table. Reaching up to the top of the cupboard, she reaches up on her tip toes. The slight dimples above her ass come to view. Her lean, sexy back tightening as she stretches for the plates.

Dancing her way to the table, plates in hand, she sings along to the song. Her tits bobbing along with the beat. Making her way back to get the silverware, her body keeps wiggling and jiggling in all the right places as she keeps dancing away. Her bare feet skipping along the kitchen tile. Toes painted green to match her bandana.

Knock. Knock.

---

I snap out of my now very rare daydream (Yet, at night? Language is weird). I look to my door as my mom, still in her tunic dress (and not much else if the light shining through it isn't tricking my eyes), comes strolling in. I calmly, but quickly, raise my knees up to hide the fact that I'm tenting the sheet. "Oh, hey, mom." I reply like I wasn't just thinking about her making the sexiest plate of ravioli ever made.

"Hey kiddo. You doing alright after today?" she asks sweetly, sitting down at the edge of the bed. Her hand resting on my knee, lightly rubbing it through the sheet.

"Yeah, I think so. Sandra even asked if I wanted to go out again."

"Oh wonderful!" She beams, "Hey, four more of those, and you might just have to treat your mom to a nice dinner. Maybe even a movie. With popcorn. Extra butter."

"Wha? Why? Because we potentially may go out in the future, I for some reason have to take you out to dinner as a thank you for that?

"I mean, I'm not saying it's not the suit's fault..." She looks away, implying that it was definitely the suit that made Sandra ask me out again, and potentially four more times after that. "Buhht..." She finishes with a goofy shrug.