The Healing

I want to express my thanks to Rozezwild for reviewing this story. I know it has taken me a very long time before posting, but I had reasons for that. This story is fictional and was written for the enjoyment of all Literotica readers. Your comments would be greatly appreciated.



This day ended like every other day. I was happy to be out of there. Over the past year, college was more of an effort than anything else. I didn't want to be there. No one seemed to want me there. Sure, I had a few friends, but I was by no means popular. It seemed like the more popular students found it easier to ridicule me for their own entertainment than have anything else to do with me. My grades were average. That is to say that I wasn't failing and I wasn't dazzling anyone with my brilliance. I didn't know where I belong or how I fit in. The worst part was it seemed like everyone else did. My other problem – girls. I knew I could never get a date with the prettier ones. The jocks had their claims to them. I found it extremely difficult to talk to any girl no matter how she looked. My mouth would dry up and I would stand there babbling like an idiot. So I headed home glad that the day was over for me. I could head to the one place where I always felt like I belonged and where I was the happiest.

I don't know how to reach him. He seems so withdrawn. He shows no interest in anything. When I ask him how his day was, or how his classes were, he simply replies "Ok" and goes to his room. He spends more time there than any young man I know of. I know this can't be healthy, but I just don't know what to do. I have tried talking to him. He smiles, says he's ok, and he's gone. It just seems that since his father passed away a part of him went as well and there is nothing I can do to bring that back.

John and Peter were always very close. They did everything together. They went fishing, camping, went to ballgames, movies, even shopping when it came to getting gifts for me. The two were inseparable. It was the type of relationship that every father imagines having with his son. Neither they nor I had any idea of the turn of events about to transpire ...

There she is again, making dinner as always. She's going to stop what she is doing and ask me about my day. I know she means well, but I know she can't imagine what I am going through. I know it isn't easy for her either. Mom and Dad were always showing each other how much they loved each other and how much they loved me. I know she misses him terribly and I worry about her. I just don't know how to talk to her. If only Dad were here, things could go back to being what they were. If only ...

John and I had met in college. We fell in love immediately. He was so different from any of the other boys I dated. He made me laugh, he teased me, and he loved me. He made me feel like no one else did. He made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered to him. And, in fact, I was. I loved John very deeply. It seemed like this love grew with each and every passing day. We got married as soon as he graduated. I was to continue on and graduate the following year, but things did not work out that way. Instead, Peter was born that year. The new baby changed everything. John told me that he did not want me working and have someone else raise our son. Of course, had I insisted, he would have relented and I would have worked or gone back to school. I understood why John felt the way he did and I trusted him to take care of us. So I became a stay at home mom. Raising Peter was a joy and a pleasure. No matter how tired John was, or how long he worked, he always managed to find time to play with his son. He always managed to find time for me. There were times I would insist John just relax. But he would not have anything to do with that. He always found time to talk to me and tell me about his day. He listened so intently when I would tell him what was going on with Peter. He always took interest in how I was and how I felt. We had our off days and we argued. After all, we weren't perfect. But we were as close as anyone could come. Then came that day. That terrible, terrible day.

I forgot my lunch that day so I had to go home or face an afternoon and a growling stomach. No way! I walked in the door and mom had lunch prepared. I couldn't wait for this weekend. Mom, Dad and I were going camping and we were going to have a great time. Dad had been working very hard over the past year and now it appeared that his work would finally pay off. Mom was so excited because she would finally have some time with Dad that she desperately needed. Dad was looking forward to it, too. He knew he needed to relax. He knew that this deal tried the strengths of his family and he knew that we had all survived. We couldn't think of a better way to celebrate than to do it as a family while enjoying the one thing we all loved to do. It would be a trip to remember.

John was in a meeting with some clients preparing to close this very important deal that would guarantee him a partnership. He had worked very hard and long hours from the beginning putting this deal together. He overcame every obstacle imaginable. He had managed to bring together people who would never have worked together otherwise. This was John's shining moment. Then, in one instant, it was over. He grabbed his chest, took a breath, and collapsed.

Peter had just walked in for lunch. He was seated at the table and I was bringing him his sandwich when I saw the car pull into the driveway. I didn't recognize it. Two men got out of the car. I recognized them. One was the senior partner for John's firm and the other was John's associate. The look on their faces told me something was terribly wrong. My hands started trembling as I went to answer the door. Peter sat mesmerized. My legs felt like they were going to give out as the senior partner explained what happened.

They tried reviving John to no avail. Paramedics arrived and could do nothing. He was declared dead on arrival at the hospital.

I didn't know what I was going to do. My whole world fell apart in that one instant. The man I loved was no longer alive. Our plans to spend our lives together and retire old and gray would never be realized. He would never see his son graduate college. I just couldn't think of all the things we talked about happening that would now never happen. I felt an emptiness I had never known before. Yet I had to continue going on – I still had Peter to think about.

I was in my room as usual. I was on the computer just browsing web sites. I wasn't looking for anything in particular. Sure, I had visited my share of porn sites, but that was not what I was doing now. Then there was a knock on my door. "Come in, Mom," I said.

She asked me to turn off the computer and look at her. It kind of bothered me but I put that aside and did as she asked.

"Peter, we have to talk," she said. I could see she was nervous as she sat on the corner of my bed. I turned my chair around and looked at her expecting some kind of speech as to how I could not go on living my life sheltered in my room.

"I know this past year hasn't been easy for you, it hasn't been easy for me, either," she began. "You used to be outgoing and I hate to see that go away. You should be dating, yet you come home and never go anywhere."

I was feeling empty. I was feeling hurt. I knew she was right, but I couldn't bring myself to face it. "You should be the one to talk," I countered. "Look at you. You work, you come home, and you watch TV. You don't go anywhere. You don't date. And you ask me what's wrong?!" The look of shock and hurt was clearly evident in my mother's eyes.

I sat there dumbfounded. Peter was right. Here I am trying to get him to open up and talk to me and what kind of example am I setting? I couldn't say anything. I got up and walked angrily out of his room. I didn't want to face him anymore today. I went to my room and burst into tears. I cried like I had never cried before and there was nothing else I could do. I must have cried myself to sleep because when I awoke, it was dark and I felt like I was hit by a truck. I got up and washed my face. I didn't bother to check on Peter as I passed his bedroom. As I went downstairs, I heard some shuffling around. When I got to the kitchen, Peter was making himself a sandwich. I looked at the time. It was 11 pm. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize the time. I fell asleep and just woke up. Would you like me to make that sandwich for you?"

"Mom," he said. "I am so sorry I lashed out at you like that. I never meant to hurt you. It's just that things have been so confusing and different since Dad's been gone." The tears welled in his eyes. He was trying to hold back. "I just miss him so much and I don't know what to do."

I looked at my son for an instant. I could feel the pain he was feeling. I could feel the emptiness and the uncertainty.

"I miss him, too. I have been trying to figure this thing out and I can't. All I know is the man that I wanted to spend my life with and have a family with is now gone and there is nothing I can do about it. And now I feel like I am losing the only other man in my life and the thought of that is unbearable."

I broke down and began crying. I guess it was a little too much for Peter because he broke down too.

"Mom, I didn't know what to do. You had retreated and it was like you weren't here anymore. Sure, I saw you, and you went to work and came home, but you weren't here. You always seem like there's some other place you'd rather be."

"Peter, I'm not that hungry anymore. I would like nothing better than to sit and talk with you. Could we just do that?"

I looked at my mother for a few seconds before answering her. She was desperate. So was I. Where there once was a happy family stood two people who, because of their grief, could not talk to one another. "I don't feel too hungry anymore, either. Let's go inside and sit. I promise, I won't snap at you."

We went to the living room. My mother sat on the couch and I sat in the chair opposite her. "No, come sit with me," she said. I moved to the couch. We turned to face each other. My mother began speaking. "We are both still hurting and grieving over the loss of your father. We have handled this in our own way, but very much in the same manner. We have withdrawn not only from our daily activities but from each other. I know in my heart of hearts Dad would not want us to behave like this. He loved us too much for that. I'm afraid I didn't set a very good example for you and I am sorry. I'd like to start new if you don't mind."

"I'm just as guilty of this," I said. "You don't have to take the brunt of this yourself. I didn't know how to reach you. I withdrew into my room and my computer because it was the only place I could try and sort out my feelings. And all the while, I was not sorting anything out. I lost my focus in college, in friends, everything."

I motioned for my son to move closer to me. I wanted nothing more than to hold my baby. He moved closer and I hugged him against my breasts and held him there. "We have to help each other through this and we have not done a very good job of that." I could tell he felt a little uncomfortable but I didn't care. He tried changing his position. I just hugged him. "Honey, please don't move," I said to him. "I just need to know that you love me as much as I love you."

"Mom, you know I love you. I would love nothing better than to start new. I don't want to feel this distant from you." To my surprise, Peter shifted to hug me back. We stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity. I began crying.

"Mom, please don't cry anymore," I said. "We'll be ok." I was still hugging her. "These are tears of joy, Peter," she replied. I said nothing more. I just held her. She shifted position slightly and I could feel her breasts moving. I also noticed a slight stirring in my jeans. "Of all the times and all the people, I have to start feeling that now," I thought to myself. Fortunately, my mother was not in a position to feel anything.

It was almost as if we could not get close enough. We were both starved for comfort and an emotional outlet. Yet, we never gave each other the opportunity for it. I couldn't stop holding him. When he returned the hug, and then held me, I felt as if maybe my world didn't come to an end after all. I finally found what I was missing this past year and I didn't want to let it go. Not again. I continued holding my son. His continual shifting was annoying, but I wasn't about to say anything. It was almost as if he wanted to be here and yet, he wanted to be elsewhere. He couldn't make up his mind.

"Are you comfortable with this?" I asked him. "I'm ok". Again with his typical answer. This time, I was not going to settle for that.

"Peter, sit up and look at me," I demanded. He was a little taken aback with the tone of my voice. "Listen to me. I'm not angry or upset with you. But if we are going to move on, and if we are going to have a relationship, we cannot keep avoiding each other. I know you have things on your mind. So do I. This past year has been difficult for you. It has been difficult for me, too. But we will never get past square one if we keep running away. We have to open up to one another or we will just drift further apart. That is not something I want and I don't think you want it, either."

I could hardly believe her tone. First, she was crying and holding me like there was no tomorrow. Now this. "Mom, you're right," I replied. "I'm sorry; it's just that it is sometimes difficult to talk to you about the things I used to talk to Dad about. And now that he's gone, I feel as if I don't have anyone I can talk to. It's not that you wouldn't understand. There are things that I could talk to Dad about that he'd understand better."

"Look, I understand how close you and your Dad were. We used to have conversations, too. I also understand there are things that you feel more comfortable talking with your father about than with me. He's no longer here. I understand a lot more than you think and I am concerned for you. As I said, we have to learn to confide in one another."

I let that sink in for a few seconds. "What about you, Mom? You must have things on your mind that you would normally speak to Dad about. Just because he's no longer with us doesn't mean I wouldn't understand. I'm a freshman in college now. I may not have the experience but I do understand relationships. You don't seem to give me credit for that. You try and act as if everything is fine and it's not."

Peter was right. There was no getting around it. "I guess I have been so consumed with my grief that I pushed everything that mattered to the side. Then I tried covering it up by pretending all was fine. Peter, I am so sorry." We hugged again and fell on the couch. As we fell, Peter tried kissing my cheek but missed. His kiss fell lightly on my lips. I also noticed that he was getting aroused. This was something new. It had been a year since I had any sex outside of self ministrations and all of a sudden this pent up urge needed release. But this was my son. How could I even think about it? It didn't seem to matter. Peter had shifted and now his body was almost completely on top of me as we lay on the couch. I could feel my nipples crushing against his chest. A familiar tingling began in my pussy. I was getting turned on. There was no question about it. And the darned thing was – so was my son.

There wasn't enough room on the couch for me to lie beside my mother, so when we went to hug each other again my weight pushed against her. I wanted to give her a kiss and I went for her cheek. In the process of lying her down without hurting either one of us, I missed and kissed her on the lips. Her breasts were firm against my chest and I no longer cared if she felt my dick get hard. I was still a virgin but it seemed like I knew exactly what I was doing. We lay there for a few more seconds. I went to kiss her again. This time, I went straight for my mother's mouth. She didn't resist. I kissed her full on the lips. We were both heading out of control. Was it our grief or a lack of attention? Or was it both? It didn't matter. We both had a need and a desire that desperately needed filling. As I kissed my mother, her lips parted. I inserted my tongue and kissed her passionately. At the same time, my left hand started moving up towards her right breast and began playing with it through her clothes. I could feel her nipple hardening as I played with and kneaded her breast. It was so full and firm. Her hands were now moving up and down my back. I noticed her breathing was becoming more ragged. I broke the kiss and continued kissing her cheek and neck. My mother never once attempted to stop me.

I could feel the fire building inside me. I was totally engrossed in this passionate kiss I was sharing with my son. He began playing with my breast and I couldn't stop him. I couldn't help myself. I wanted it just as badly as he did. I started rubbing his back. I pulled his shirt up and reached underneath to feel his skin. Peter began kissing down my neck. He started unbuttoning my blouse. My hands moved down to feel his ass. It was so firm and felt so good. He managed to get my blouse unbuttoned and he opened the front snap of my bra. He pushed the material away and my tits were now free. He continued gently kneading my breasts and occasionally letting his thumb run over my nipples. I was in heaven. I couldn't control myself and I couldn't stop him. I didn't want to stop him. Peter began sucking on my breasts. My breathing was coming in short gasps and I let out a soft moan. My pussy was starting to get wet from all this excitement. "Oh, Mom, you are so beautiful," he said in between breaths.

"Please," I replied. "If we are going to continue, call me Stephanie. It just doesn't seem right to be doing this and having you call me Mom." It was my turn to become aggressor. I removed Peter's tee shirt and started kissing him down his neck. I shifted positions so that now I was on top. I removed my blouse and bra and threw them aside. I wouldn't need them anytime soon. I continued kissing and licking until I got to his male nipples. I teased each one with my tongue and gently bit them. They immediately hardened up. My hand was also caressing what felt like a huge penis. I couldn't wait to find out. I kissed down his stomach to his belly. I undid his belt and jeans as I made my way down. I pulled his jeans and shorts down in one move. His cock stood straight up. It had to be at least 8 inches and fat. I grasped it in my hand and started rubbing up and down the shaft. I looked up at him and smiled. Then I admired the purple head that was staring at me. I licked the crown of his dick all along the top, in the slit on the crown, and underneath. My tongue then made its way down the side of the shaft and back up. I took the head in my mouth and engulfed it. I wanted to make love to his cock with my mouth.

I was going out of my mind. Mom, I mean Stephanie, was giving me a blowjob. I had never had one before and my first one would be with the woman who gave birth to me. I felt like I was in heaven. Her hand was stroking my shaft and her mouth was licking, kissing, and sucking all around the head and upper shaft. Then she removed her hand and started to work her way down the shaft. I didn't think my cock could get any harder. Her hand reached underneath and started playing with my testicles. I kept groaning. Stephanie's other hand reached up and began playing with my nipples making sure they stayed hard. She reached the bottom of my shaft and began sucking her way up. I already had pre-cum shooting out my slit and I knew I wouldn't last too much longer. Stephanie must have sensed this and began sucking harder and faster. Her hand squeezed my balls. I started moaning louder. "Oh my God! Oh my God! A-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-ah!"