The Ball Game

A woman is a woman, end of the day.

A woman is a woman, end of the day.

A woman is a woman, end of the day.

I knew it was total bullshit. But, if that were the case, why couldn't I stop thinking about it? I laughed at the idea of trying to discern whether or not a random lunatic had fundamentally changed the way I viewed my Mother, though an argument could be made that I was trying to laugh away the nerves.

I must have blinked, because suddenly we were nearing the end of the game. It had evolved into a nail-biter, giving every single seat a reason to stay packed until the final moment and thus making our departure from the venue that much more difficult. That, and the effects of alcohol on a blisteringly hot day, made it quite a chore to try and escape the crowd.

"All that and they didn't even win?" Mom whined, laying her head on my shoulder with a defeated sigh. Her face was turned towards my chest and I felt her breath tickling me like a warm breeze. "Now I'm happy I didn't tape it for your Father. It would've sucked to see his team lose on his birthday."

The nostalgic scent of Mom's mango shampoo lit up fireworks in my brain, bringing me back to a time when I would smell such an aroma and know I was home, wherever I was. I wanted to bury my face in her hair and hold her so tight she popped.

Mom lifted her head and fanned the air in front of her face. "Oh, I'm sorry, honey. I probably smell like one too many drinks."

I vigorously shook my head and dove in with too much enthusiasm. "No, Mom. You smell as amazing as you look." I might have overdone it.

Mom tilted her head and birthed a coy smile, eyes searching my face for any hint of how she should respond. If I didn't know better, I'd say I caught her blushing. "Uh, thank you, sweetheart?"

I took her by the arm and we stood up, each fighting the swaying legs that refused to support us. Mom pressed a hand against my chest for balance and the soft pads of her fingertips dug in like she was trying to find a light switch in the dark. The exit was already flooded with patrons and I didn't want to get caught leaving the stadium when the sun came down, so we pushed along with the crowd until we reached the aisle.

"Well, we went big. Time to go home." I mimicked the same impression of my Father that Mom had used earlier.

Mom chortled an a decidedly not-so-cute way, and I thanked the alcohol for bringing down her walls enough that she felt comfortable snorting like a piglet. "Your Dad used to say that all the time. Still does, actually. Still says it. He loves saying it, he says that all the time."

Now it was my turn to deliver an ugly snort, something that only served to make the two of us laugh even harder. One of us (ie. Mom) laughed a little too hard and had to reach out a hand to steady their balance.

"Oh, jeez!" Mom yelped as she missed the next step, narrowly grabbing the handrail as she turned a disastrous fall into a reasonably graceful stumble into an empty seat.

She stayed seated for a second, like she was pondering something. I thought she was collecting herself before taking another attempt at it, but her face bore too many mixed emotions to get a read on.

"You okay, Mom?" I reached out a hand and she accepted it, lazily climbing to her feet with a look of worry scattered across her face. She didn't let go of my hand, and I didn't care how tightly her grip became as she leaned her weight onto me.

Mom whispered something into my ear with a giggle before pressing her face into my chest like she was trying to hide in embarrassment, but I couldn't quite make out what she said. I'm sure she was aiming for my ear, but her aim placed her tepid breath against my neck and gave me the strangest goosebumps I had ever felt.

"What did you say?" I asked.

"I said; I sat in something slimy!" Mom took hold of my hand and moved it an inch below her dress, pressing my hand against her soft skin. My entire throat was now occupied by my heart, but I was so entranced that I let time slow to a crawl as Mom guided my hand against her thigh. Her perfectly smooth skin was glass to the touch, and I would have had time to scold myself for that curious analysis if I hadn't discovered the 'slimy' she spoke of.

"What the hell is that?" I yanked my hand away. "What is that? What am I touching?"

"You tell me!" Mom insisted, turning away to bend over in front of me. We were still surrounded by people leaving their seats so I prayed they were too busy with their own lives to see the gorgeous blonde woman nearly exposing her bum for the whole crowd.

I stared at my Mom's backside like a man possessed. I wasn't sure what I was looking for but I didn't want to say anything that would convince her to turn back around. The definition of Mom's shapely legs was boldly displayed from the low heels she had on, every curve like a perfectly toned sculpture of brilliant white marble. Her dress was doing everything in its power to stay below her generous curves, but the bottom swell of her chubby cheeks was clearly visible from this angle.

Small, narrowly visible lines were imprinted in the juicy meat from sitting on her underwear for so long, giving the doughy globes the allure of a fluffy memory foam pillow you would sink into like a cloud. The faint, nearly invisible peach fuzz caught the fading sun and halted a breath in my throat, striking me with the desire to press my face against the hauntingly perfect skin and succumb to its impossible softness.

Vivid images of digging my fingers into her delicate, plump curves filled my head and I heard voices telling me to tear the whole garment off of her. I almost listened to them before shaking myself out of the drunken haze.

"See?" Mom wagged her butt back and forth, no doubt clueless to just how provocative such a move looked.

It took me too long to notice it, but to be fair, I was deeply distracted. Now I was keenly aware of the enormous streak of mustard that trailed from Mom's knees all the way up until it disappeared below her dress.

I swallowed a couple times to try and fight my dry mouth, idiotically asking, "How far up does it go?"

"All the way up! I even think my underwear is dirty." If she caught the strangeness of my question, she didn't let on. A frightening realization struck her and Mom's face soured. "Evan, I can't sit on a crowded bus like this, I feel disgusting. It's all...mustardy."

"What should we do?" Again, brilliant question.

"I've got wet wipes in my purse, I'm gonna go to the bathroom and get cleaned up." We both knew that leaving later than we already were would mean a fully packed bus on the ride back to the parking garage, but sitting in a pool of mustard would have been a whole new nightmare for Mom. We begrudgingly trudged to the bathroom so she could rid herself of the horrid yellow sauce.

I stood outside the bathroom as Mom cleaned up, watching the crowd balloon in size until they were bottlenecked at the exit. I scanned the crowd, looking for the gentleman whose words still swam in circles around my brain, but he was nowhere to be found. I didn't know why it was so hard to shrug off his "advice", if you can call it that. I had never felt any particular attraction to my Mother, and while she was an objectively good looking person I never imagined I would feel such persistent butterflies from the simple act of touching her thigh.

A woman is a woman, end of the day.

A woman is a woman, end of the day.

A woman is a woman, end of-

"Oh, my god, shut up." I cursed the inner voices while I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration.

"I didn't say anything, goofball." Mom came shuffling out of the bathroom, clutching her purse like the next passerby was going to rip it from her hands. She hadn't been so protective of it until now, and I amused myself thinking of what treasures she had hidden inside that she suddenly wanted to shield from the public. "Come on, we can still grab the next bus before it leaves."

"Sure thing." I looped an arm through hers. "M'mother, shall we?"

To the surprise of nobody, the bus was inhabited by countless bodies trying to pile in at once. Nobody wanted to wait for the next ride so Mom and I had to push our way to the back to fight for the single unoccupied space in the back corner.

"Is that all that's left?" I asked with a lump in my throat, gesturing to the isolated spot at the very back of the bus. I suppose nobody wanted to take a single seat in the back corner, and I admittedly felt a tinge of claustrophobia creep in as we moved towards it. I realized how closely we would have to sit to make the spot work. "We aren't gonna fit beside each other, Mom."

"Maybe not beside, but let's get creative!" Mom gleamed, untroubled by either the chaos erupting around us or the lack of adequate seating. "Here, you sit down first and then I'll just sit on your lap."

I almost burst a muscle from trying so hard to keep my jaw attacked to my skull. "Uh, I guess, sure. If you're okay with that? I mean, if you're cool with that, then I'm cool with that."

"Only if you're cool with this fat caboose crushing you to death." Mom rolled her eyes and gave her butt a playful swat. "Hurry up, Evan! I'm getting knocked around like a friggin pinball over here."

She was right; the rowdy passengers were making it tough to traverse the aisle, each shouting something more obscene than the last as they all vented their collective frustration.

The seat wasn't exactly comfortable, and even with nobody behind us we were essentially trapped in the chair by the gentleman sitting next to us. He was deeply enthralled with a mystery novel so we had to fight for his attention to allow us to squeeze into the tiny space. He sighed like we were asking him for a million dollar ransom, but ultimately lifted the shoulder bag sitting next to him so we could wiggle into the seat.

Moments after we sat down, he returned to his book as if we weren't faced with a cavalcade of angry sports fans trying to win the "loudest passenger" contest. The shoulder bag acted like a wall between us, and based on his generally not-so-cheery disposition that was probably intentional.

The bus roared to life and we all lurched forward as it pulled away from the sidewalk, leaving a horde of wailing bystanders on the sidewalk to wait for the next pressure cooker to pick them up.

Mom was resting squarely on my lap, and I chastised myself for thinking that it was anything notable. Weird, foreign thoughts entered my brain that I could not escape, and I ironically took to thinking about baseball to distract myself.

The bus chugged down the bumpy streets, coming to repeated stops as the hulking metal tube made its way through copious, unending lines of traffic. Mom and I made light chit-chat to distract ourselves from the monotony, but you can only watch skyscrapers pass by for so long before it starts to all blur together; before the overlapping patterns of architecture inch you towards sleep like an industrial lullaby.

We were both drained from a day in the heat and drinking too much, so the conversation quickly dissipated as we calmly watched the streets, pedestrians, and buildings passing us by as a hazy portrait of city life. Even the boisterous swarm of fans surrounding us weren't enough to keep Mom from relaxing with her head against the window, making her full weight rest on my crotch as her muscles turned to jelly in my lap.

Mom hadn't noticed that, when she sat down, her dress had not come with her. The fabric had bunched up around her waist when she sat down, giving no barrier between her skin and my lap. I suppose she didn't notice, but I certainly did and I was in no rush to tell her. Thank god for her underwear being the sole thing keeping her from resting her bare bum against my lap.

"Are you comfy, honey?" Mom cooed, craning her neck to look back at me.

"As comfy as I can be, I guess. I don't know where to put my hands, I feel like an awkward statue." This was true. They had been resting motionless by my side ever since Mom climbed on top of me. "Oh, just put them here, goofball." Mom placed both my arms around her tummy with a reassuring squeeze. "I'm pretty close to falling off, anyway. You'd really think they would get somebody to pave these roads after so many years."

"This is nothing." I repeated in my head. "You're just drunk, stop being a weirdo."

It came as no surprise that I was doing very little to dissuade my arousal from creeping in. I had a beautiful woman bouncing on my lap, and regardless of who that woman was, it was having a profound effect on me. It just so happened to be my own Mother, but recognizing that only seemed to compound the sickeningly intense arousal.

A woman is a woman, end of the day.

A woman is a woman, end of the day.

A woman is a woman, end of- SHUT UP!

Defiant to the core, my brain seemingly used my anxiety as fuel to incite my greatest fear. I felt a stir in my balls and that only meant one horrifying thing. I tried to hide the panic through some aimless shifting without being too obvious. I pinched my legs together to pin my stiffness down, but putting pressure on it did the exact opposite. The floodgates were open now, and each time the bus jostled around I felt more blood rushing to my lower half.

"Need some room, Muffin?" Mom cooed. She raised her bum off my lap so I could shuffle around and, no longer held down, my rigid member sprung up from between my legs and poked directly through the small window where my zipper should've been. If Mom wasn't on top of me, my dick would have been clearly visible to any prying eyes. Without the help of a zipper to seal it away I would need a miracle to escape without alerting Mom.

My brain tingled at the taboo; having my Mother feel my naked erection push between the swell of her globular ass cheeks was quickly becoming a dark new fantasy. I halted the words in my throat before I could audibly condemn myself for getting so hard over my own Mother.

"Is that better?" Mom chirped with her ass still hovering above me.

I wouldn't be able to keep her in the dark if she sat back down; she would plop directly onto my bulging erection and everything would go to shit. After such a great day together, I didn't want this to be how she remembered it.

"J-just a second." I fumbled fruitlessly with my pants, trying to manoeuver within the small space between my lap and Mom's bum. I couldn't arrange myself in a convincing way, but I knew I had to do something so I furiously tugged at my shorts as if it would make a miracle happen. The missing zipper made it impossible to securely hide myself, leaving me with an open door where I could feel air nipping at my balls. I desperately scanned to see if we could find another seat, but my fate was sealed.

"I'm sitting back down, Evan. This position is hell on my legs and I'm not trying to do squats on the bus." Mom didn't mean to sound threatening, but given the stakes her tone came across as such.

My whole life flashed before my eyes as I watched Mom lower her bottom onto me, unable to think of an excuse that wouldn't scar our relationship. I watched in horror, powerless to stop my Mother's as her ass landed in my lap again.

There were a few seconds, however faint, where I convinced myself that it wouldn't be an issue. Maybe she wouldn't feel it, or maybe she would write it off as my phone, or something equally unlikely would happen to stop my life as I knew it from ending. Mom paused once her bum flattened against me, curious about the familiar stiff shape lodged between her cheeks.

She shuffled a bit. She bounced a couple of times. She froze in horror.

Mom's whole body became stiff as a board. Neither one of us were willing to break the silence first, we didn't know how. There was no precedent informing our behaviour. We were in uncharted waters, neither of us bold enough to speak their mind, but she grew impatient before I did. "Evan..."

"What?" I whispered. At least I think I did, but I'm not sure if the words ever left my mouth.

"I feel, uh...I think something is poking me?" Mom started to lift herself again but I instinctively wrapped my arms around her midsection to tether her to me. She knew what was happening, but lacked the will to say it aloud. "Honey, is that-."

"I'm sorry, Mom." I choked out. I buried my face in her back in shame and took a deep breath that was saturated by her intoxicating aroma. "I don't know what happened, I swear! I didn't mean to­-."

Mom hushed me, eyes darting around the bus to see if anybody was paying attention. Even the man next to us was ignoring our corner, so she felt safe enough to turn her head towards the window and whisper to me with sincere, unexpected desperation. "Evan, please. You need to make it go down -now."

My guts were twisted in a thousand knots, but she was right. "I-I can't, the zipper is broken and I don't have enough room to hide it."

"You have to, seriously. Please, Evan, do something. Make it stop." Mom wasn't able to stop the anxiety from peppering her words, but she took a deep breath to steady her nerves before she explained the stakes. "I-uh, I took my underwear off at the arena because of that fucking mustard."

"You did?" I bit down on my tongue, unfazed by hearing my Mother utter a word I rarely heard her use.

"I'm basically naked down there!" She spat through her clenched jaw as quietly as she could. "There's nothing between us and I can feel...it on my bum."

Mom's revelation stunned me, but I realized she was right. I was too panicked to notice it earlier, but she was telling the truth. The open zipper did nothing to separate us, and without any barrier of clothing between us I could clearly feel the immense heat emanating from between my Mother's legs. It was a dense, muggy heat that felt like it was threatening to spill lava all over me. I was on the edge of a volcano, and if asked I would have gladly thrown myself right into it. As much as I hated the situation, part of me wanted - no, needed - to see what would happen next.

If my heart had been in my throat before, it was now my entire stomach that threatened to come spilling from my gaping maw. I didn't register the presence of the world around us as my heart thumped like artillery in my ears, drowning out anything and anyone that wasn't seated directly in my lap.

We hit another big bump and Mom squeaked as she tried valiantly to minimize any unnecessary movement. It seemed like no matter what she did, no matter how she twisted and turned, it all served to bring my straining bulge closer to her vulnerable center.

Mom looked down as if to confirm her fears, but since her dress covered the two of us she had to be sure of what she was feeling. "Do you feel that? I-I think it's almost going in me, Evan. Every time we move it just- AHH!"

The entire bus looked back at us as Mom leapt to her feet, their attention summoned by Mom's response to the bump we had just hit. She offered a meek wave before she abruptly sat back down too quickly for me to react. Mom lowered her head in shame to try and avoid even a shred of eye contact.

To her horror, she had repositioned me by standing up. I knew I was no longer sandwiched between her ass cheeks as I felt a soft tuft of hair tickling my bulging crown. I couldn't see it, but I knew my entire cock was now between Mom's thighs, lodged against her slippery petals. Without her dress, my dick would've been clearly seen poking up from beneath her thick thighs, mingling with the wet fur that tickled my exposed plum.

I could feel her lips half-encircling my shaft, and I dared not ask myself why Mom was already so wet. A trickle of her honey ran down the length of my pole at a snail's pace, tickling me on the way down as it trailed towards my balls.