Oedipal Homecoming

"We'll have all day tomorrow to ourselves, won't we?" He winked meaningfully—and chuckled, when her face turned crimson. "Good night, mom," he grinned and brushed his lips on hers.

Helplessly confused, she watched him walk away; her mouth and throat still filled with salt, her breasts drenched in drool, she used the counter to pull herself up and had another glass of water.

She knew it was going to be a sleepless night, filled with dark thoughts about what had just transpired—as well as about the morning that was to come—but, nevertheless she lay down next to Dan, who still snored, blissfully asleep.

However, exhaustion quickly crept in; her eyelids flickered and soon she was in dreamland.

* * * *

She stayed in bed, wide awake and her heart drumming, replaying the previous night in her head over and over. Perhaps, she thought, Rick was drunker than he let show and didn't remember.

An invisible force kept her chained down. On some level, she wanted the previous night to be repeated, especially now that Dan wasn't home, but, she also felt the dreadfulness of how completely wrong it was—even thinking about it with lust and desire was wrong.

With a deep sigh, she fought the shackles off and sat up; the pillow and cover all too invitingly called her back, like sirens, to let the day go by without leaving the bedroom.

It couldn't be done; her heart in her throat, she got up and once more paused at the door. Opening it was eerily similar to opening Pandora's Box. But, hiding in her bedroom wasn't a viable option.

After all, the right thing to do was talk to Rick about the previous night; explain it was a mistake, albeit a beautiful one, and attempt to regain some semblance of normalcy.

She briefly checked her phone; only ten in the morning. Slightly more confident, as chances of Rick being up were infinitesimal, she stepped out of the bedroom in need of coffee and a few awake moments with her thoughts.

"'Morning, mom!" He greeted her with a wide smile. "Made some coffee," he pointed at the half-filled pot. "Slept well? I slept like a baby!"

"Yeah, I...look, Rick," she sighed on her steaming coffee, "about last night..."

"It was fun, huh?" His grin expanded from ear to ear. "Though, I think today'll be even better; what with having the house all to ourselves and...

"It wasn't what you meant," he frowned.

"It was fun, honey, but—" she leaned forward and put her hand on his knee tenderly "—it was also wrong. I mean...you're my son, it's..."

"Mom," he smiled sadly and took her hand in his, "it's not wrong; we've just been taught it's wrong. Quite frankly, the main reason society tells us it's wrong, is because it can lead to children with nasty genetic diseases.

"I've got condoms; it's not like I want to get a baby brother that's also my son. Incest happens in nature; besides, right now, we are not mother and son. We're just two grown people; a young man and a more mature woman, both burning up with sexual desires.

"Our relationship only makes things...more intense. That's all."

"Rick, you..." She drew a deep breath, and chased it with some coffee. "Last night was a mistake; you were drunk, I was vulnerable...it happened. It was good, but, it also has to remain a singular instance.

"We can't repeat it."

"Why were you vulnerable?" He demanded, his eyes abruptly turning cold.

"Nothing, nothing," she shook her head, her heart already on the floor.

"Mom, what's wrong?" He sighed and averted his glance. "We're losing the house, aren't we?"

"What?" She pulled back, petrified. "What are you...talking about, honey? No, we're not; we're..."

"Have a friend," he said, biting the corner of his lips, "who works, part time, at a collection agency; you know, phone center, that shit.

"One day, we were drinking, and he...well, he said he had to call someone named...Dan Ferguson, living...well, here. Said he was way too deep in debt, house mortgaged twice...

"I was petrified; obviously, I told him it was someone else, I didn't...couldn't...but, I knew. And I'm sure he knew, too; thankfully, he let go, didn't pursue it further.

"So, mom, how bad is it?"

"Bad," she groaned and shut her eyes tight. "Your dad's business's not going so well...it never recovered from the recession And..."

"That's why I never called; I..." She shivered, when he caressed her cheek softly, and met his eyes. "I just couldn't take it, you know? I was worried, angry...everything.

"I was afraid to talk to you, afraid it'd slip up and..."

"You shouldn't have to worry about these things, honey." She took his cheeks in her hands and planted long kisses on his forehead and cheeks. "We're going to be fine, I promise."

The dark turn in their conversation had come all too quick and abrupt, catching her completely off guard—it was how she'd later explain to herself her decision to plant a kiss on his lips.

For a moment—that to her seemed like a century—they both remained perfectly still, their noses touching, his hot, heavy breath landing on her skin.

Then, he pressed his lips against hers once more, thrusting his tongue down her throat; she squirmed under the soft touch on her thighs, his hands slowly and firmly moving upwards.

She sucked on his tongue hungrily, burying her fingers inside his thick hair and suddenly she had no cares in the world. All her guilt and second thoughts vaporized and all there was were his kiss and his fingers working over her panties.

She tilted her head backwards, his hot lips connecting first to her neck and slowly working their way down to her chest. With her hands still firmly on the back of his head, she pushed him down quite demandingly, this time around not worrying about muffling her deep moans.

He got down to his knees and she lifted her legs, giggling almost girlishly, when he pulled her panties down.

"Rick, no, I..." She protested, out of pure instinct, when he lifted the bottom of her nightgown up to her waist and formed a pathway of kisses from her knees up to her pelvis.

Her legs softly trembled under the wet kisses and soft touches on her inner thighs, and she pulled him closer to her aching pussy; a soft scream escaped her mouth, when his lips first touched her.

She leaned back on the chair, when he sucked on her clit; she dug her nails on the back of his head and spread her legs wider.

Their eyes met and she grinned almost mindlessly; she took her nightgown off and threw it unceremoniously aside, then put her hands back on the back of his head.

Her eyes popped wide open, when he slipped a finger inside her; it'd been far too long and she immediately squirmed. His tongue swirled around her clit, while he bent his finger.

"God, Rick, that feels so good, it..." She bit down her lips and pressed her thighs together, wishing to trap him down there forever.

A second finger slithered inside of her, stretching her out, and a loud cry of pleasure exited her mouth, echoing back from the deaf drawers.

Still sucking on her clit, he fingered her hard—intensifying the pace as she bloomed, all the while staring up into her eyes.

Her growing wetness allowed a third finger to slip in and she was stretched further out than ever before; a constant stream of shivers traveled up her spine rendering her numb, while a fire raged underneath her flushed skin.

He pounded her hard, while still sucking on her clit; all she could do was put her hands on her breasts, to rub and twitch her erect nipples. Her legs once more wide apart, when Rick's tongue ran across her soaked labia.

His meaty tongue penetrated her and she grinded her lower back rhythmically to the flapping's intense rhythm; he rubbed her throbbing clit hard with his thumb, causing her whole body to twitch wildly.

It was absolutely fucking insane; after years of drought, her son's fast moving tongue and thumb caused fireworks to go off in her head. Her body shook uncontrollably and her toes curled tight, as a phantasmagoria of magnificent sensations flooded her mind and body.

Her face turned scarlet, when she settled down a bit and realized she'd just squirted all over her son's face—her son, who was looking up at her, his face soaked, and whose grin was all too wide and mesmerizing.

"Wow," he exclaimed, licking his lips, "that was fast, mom!"

"Felt, really good," she mumbled, still all too lightheaded. "Learned a lot in college, I see..."

"Sure have," he winked and got up.

She bit her lower lip hard, when her gaze fell on his tenting sweatpants. Still on fire—and the settling orgasmic waves still eviscerating all seconds thoughts before they could even be born—she got down on her knees, rubbing his center over the thick fabric of his sweatpants.

Despite having already seen, and tasted, it, she still gasped, and giggled, when it slapped her across the face, when she pulled his pants down; grabbing a handful of hair, he buried her face in his crotch, effectively forcing her to take his balls in her mouth.

Lovingly looking up at him, she swirled his balls in her mouth, her nostrils burning from the strong, salty scent. She sucked on his sac hungrily—his deep moans music to her ears—and stroked his pulsating shaft.

"Ah, fuck, mom!" He groaned, as she slowly ran her tongue over his rod. "Where did you learn this?"

There was no answer to be given; her face turned crimson, though, as she took him in her mouth, while massaging his balls. Weakened by her climax, her throat was more relaxed.

Perhaps, her techniques derived from the porn she'd occasionally watch, back when she was all alone in the house with nothing to do; or, maybe, she acted upon instincts buried way too deep in her brain.

Whichever the case, it was enthrallment that swarmed her body, when her son asked about her blowjob skills—her lips tightly wrapped around the shaft, she bobbed her head fast, taking him in and out of her expanding throat, while her eyes grew watery.

She pressed her breasts together and arched her back, while sporting a wide, warm grin; immediately, he caught on and buried his dick between her tits, forcefully tilting her head and driving the head of his dripping cock into her mouth.

When he loosened his grip, she stared dead into his eyes with her lips wide open, while he plowed her tits hard.

"Feels so good, honey," she said encouragingly amidst her heavy panting.

"Sure does, mom," he grunted. "Sure does..."

It was the sound of mom—the reminder of their relation that had momentarily been erased from her memory—that added even more fuel to the fire already burning her body up. She pressed her breasts even tighter together, the friction of his dong against her smooth, sweaty skin sending more shivers up her spine and into her already dazed mind.

"God, this is so great, mom," he grinned and squatted down to kiss her lips.

Impulsively, she wrapped her hand around his throbbing member and stroked; her lips curled, when he moaned in her mouth.

"Let's take this to my room, shall we?" He picked her up with ease.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, with her hands exploring his muscles, and sucked on his neck, while he carried her to his bedroom.

With her legs spread and leaning on her elbows, she lay on his bed—once more only momentarily being overwhelmed by the notion of wrongness. After all, they were inside the room of his childhood; she lay naked and soaked wet on the bed he'd slept for years.

He lifted the condom with a meaningful grin and ripped the wrapping paper.

"Here, let me..." She pulled him closer by the organ and helped him wear the rubber.

He lay down atop of her with a beaming smile; their noses touched and their gazes locked, as he got in position.

She bit her lips down hard, tasting copper, and firmly grabbed his buttocks, when the head of his cock first came in contact with her burning with anticipation pussy.

He pushed gently, spreading her outer labia, and she dug her nails in his skin, as he went deeper.

Insofar, it had only been foreplay and she could have dismissed it as fooling around, as something ultimately wrong, but, forgivable.

Now, however, where she grunted and moaned rhythmically to her son's initially tender pounding, it was without a shadow of a doubt the end of the road; the moment of no return had already passed them.

Her eyes goggled, when he wrapped his strong hand around her neck and the bed squeaked under his increasing in intensity plowing, and she hungrily sucked on his tongue thrust down her throat.

Her breathing came out in short whistles and her eyes rolled to the back of her head, as her son pounded her hard, his balls loudly slapping against her drenched pussy.

Momentarily, she felt weightless—and empty—as Rick turned her effortlessly around; eagerly, she stood on all fours, her lower back arched, and her gaze glued on her son.

"Like a good slut," he nodded approvingly and briefly just marveled at her quite slim figure.

Her face immediately turned red and she lowered her glare, only for a brief second. He buried his fingers in her waist and pushed himself balls deep in her.

Her mouth agape, she panted heavily as he fucked her hard, her inner walls stretched perfectly to accommodate him.

She cried out in surprise, when he grabbed a handful of her hair and jerked her head backwards. Her breasts swayed fast from his pounding and she couldn't stop herself from screaming, her cries of pure joy echoing within the walls.

At that moment, all that crossed her mind were the orgasmic waves and sensations that rendered her body completely numb and shivering; her back arched high, she warmly welcomed Rick's kiss.

It was unprecedented euphoria that conquered her brain and caused her to squirm wildly, sucking on her son's tongue to silence the screams that wished to escape her lips.

She gasped, when he slammed her face down on the pillow; she bit the soft fabric of the cover and shut her eyes, completely surrendering, both body and mind, to the sensation of her son's shaft gliding against her inner walls, reaching in deep.

She dug her nails in the mattress, her toes curled, and screamed in the pillow, as her whole body twitched from an even stronger climax that hit her like a train, rendering her perfectly numb.

He slowed down, her convulsions tightly embracing his shaft; his moans music to her ears, while a continuous stream of cries exited her lips. Her eyes goggled, when his head throbbed and expanded deep inside her.

A second orgasm in a row hit her, shivers traversing her spine, and her cries turned into low, heavy moans, as contracting spasms overwhelmed her legs and stomach.

He pulled out and she squirted all over his crotch and thighs. He collapsed on the bed next to her, wearing a wide satisfied grin, and she leaned her head on his shoulder, tenderly running her finger across his abs.

Their breaths synchronized, she looked blankly at the posters of rock bands still decorating his walls, while struggling against the reappearing voice in her head that insisted this was an iniquity and that she ought to get up, run away, seek for redemption and absolution.

Perhaps, it was the voice of societal morals, the voice representing everything she'd been taught—was it because of its wrongness it'd felt so good?

She sighed and kissed Rick's shoulder; he held her tight and for a moment, they ceased to be mother and son. They were just two lovers enjoying a minute of serenity after an intense and passionate love-making session.

Of course, there's no escaping reality; he absentmindedly checked his phone and almost threw her off the bed, when he sat up.

"Shit, I...I've got to meet some old friends, mom. I'm late. I...completely lost track of time! Sorry to be leaving you like this, it's...well, you know I'll be back, right?" He winked and kissed her softly on the lips.

Befuddled, she leaned on her elbows and watched him get dressed.

"Got to go," he repeated. "Love you, mom," he said, after another kiss, and she was speechless, as the expression, once perfectly inconspicuous and normal, had just taken an entirely different meaning.

Slowly, she got up and hit the shower; the hot water washed away the physical evidence of what had transpired, but, in her mind, the images kept playing again and again, a highlight reel that caused her heart to beat fast in both enthrallment and horror.

She got dressed and made sure to pick her nightgown and underwear up from the kitchen floor—checking the house several times to ensure she hadn't missed any incriminating evidence.

With a cup of coffee, she sat silently and contemplated everything—heat of the moment, she reasoned with her worrying self, and nothing more. A singular instance, nothing less and nothing more.

She didn't believe it; it'd felt intense and it hadn't been solely due to the long drought. It was...different than it'd ever been with Dan, different than anything she'd ever experienced—though that didn't say much, considering Rick was only her third, overall.

The important question, however, was whether there was a way back; if she could look Dan in the eyes again, without thinking how much better a lover their son is, without betraying her knowledge of their son's sexual abilities.

She slapped her face—hard enough to color her cheek a faint scarlet—and got up. Chopping up onions, mashing up tomatoes, washing lettuce; had no idea what she'd cook, but, she had to do something, as long as it prevented her from thinking.

Dan came home; they barely talked, they just ate the pasta and salad she'd made. He didn't comment on the taste, which wasn't up to her standards, due to her absentmindedly adding more salt than necessary and forgetting the garlic.

Rick texted to say he'd be late—a couple of typos in his message raised a fear in her heart about his state of drunkenness.

In perfect silence, they sat on the two edges of the couch and watched an old movie, while neither paid any attention to it; Dan was occupied with the fear of their house and his business being repossessed, while Diane fought off all the images playing in her head that increased her body temperature and reddened her skin.

The door swung open and Rick stumbled in, a stupefied grin on his face—yet murder in his eyes.

"Jesus Christ!" Dan exasperated, when Rick almost knocked a lamp off. "How much did you drink?"

"Couple of shots," Rick shrugged, with a dry chuckle.

"You're drunk!" Dan yelled. "You're a drunk!"

"Yes, dad," he retorted, leaning on the wall and speaking amidst a flurry of hiccups. "I am a fucking drunkard! Didn't you always tell me to go out more? To...party?

"Well," he spread his arms with a victorious smirk, "it's what I'm doing! Don't you like that, either? What the fuck do you want from me, huh?"

"Rick," Dan said flabbergasted, running his fingers nervously through his thinning hair, "what are you talking about?"

"You never liked it, when I sat in my room playing video games. Now, that I'm going out, drinking and partying, you still don't like it. No pleasing you, is there?"

"You're drunk," Dan dismissed him coldly. "We'll talk about it in the morning, we'll..."

"No!" The windows rattled from his thunderous voice. "We'll talk about it now! Now, that I'm drunk enough to speak my mind, but, not drunk enough to slur too bad."

Petrified, Diane watched Rick take two steady steps toward his father; if glares could kill, Dan would already lie lifeless on the floor.

"You never cared about what I wanted, dad," Rick continued. "You always only cared about what others would think; back in high-school, you wished you could tell your friends your son has girlfriends, goes to parties...does what their sons did, right?