The Jumping-Off Point

"It's gotta be a nightmare," Allen agreed.

He seems happier. Less nervous. Of course, he is. You're doing great! Down at her sides, Claire admired the veins snaking up her son's flexing forearms. He was gripping the plastic side guard of the car seat down below. Just imagine him grabbing your waist with those.

The car braked quickly, and Claire impulsively seized Allen's wrists, clutching them for support as she rocked forward. When they returned to steady cruising, Claire's breath was heavier. "Sorry about that," she exhaled.

"It's okay." Allen heard his mom's apology, but she didn't let go. He looked at her manicured hands—the French-tipped fingernails, the thin fingers, the bent knuckles, her wedding bands on her left hand and her grandmother's ring on her right. She trusted him to keep her safe.

Claire squeezed just as tightly the next time the car checked. She swallowed. "You know, you can just rest your hands up here, if it's better for you..." Claire stared into the plywood boards.

"What?"

"You don't have to dangle your arms," she whispered. Her hands slid from her son's arms onto her thighs. "I'm fine if you wanna put them up here."

It had to be a trap. Allen cautiously brought his arms over his mom's supple legs. When she showed no signs of stopping him, he let his hands rest on her bare flesh, midway between her knees and the hem of her coral sundress.

The tough, worked hands making contact with her sensitive skin sent a shock through Claire's extremities and made her hips buckle. She could see them right there, but she couldn't believe it.

A distracted Claire didn't sense the braking coming until it was too late. Her shoulders were pulled forward, and she taloned the young, thick wrists with all her might to stop her momentum. In a primal response, Allen locked his arms to hold her down, digging his fingertips into her soft flesh.

When they were stable again, Claire inhaled the sight of her son's fingers imprinting on her legs—a place her dress would be covering if she were standing. Claire released the tension of her grip, watching her son follow. They sat in lingering silence.

"Thanks for holdin' me in there," Claire sweetly acknowledged.

"Yuh," Allen breathed in relief at the positive response.

Claire wanted to hear his voice again. "If school doesn't work out, you have a promising future as a seatbelt."

Allen audibly chuckled—another rarity. "Thanks."

The car lurched twice more, and their hands clenched twice more.

God, that's fucking annyoing! Claire had enough of the thin layer of stale sweat on the back of her neck. She was too hot. "Excuse me a sec." Claire pulled herself up to a squat and tossed her hair over her left shoulder. Ahh! The feeling of air-conditioning on the breathing pores of her neck was divine.

Claire sat right back down on Allen's cock, like it required no thought. Allen's hands were out like he was praying, not knowing if or when he could put them back on his mom's lap. She answered him by taking his hands and moving them between her warm thighs, higher than they were before.

Allen had never been hornier in his life. It had to be a delusion of his hormone-soaked mind—it had to be. Yet, it seemed that his gorgeous and sexy mother wanted him to touch her intimately.

He fought against his sexual urges and the painful palpitating of his erection. It was tearing his brain apart. Finally, he conceded to a risk. He moved his thumbs back and forth. Subtly, each one massaged and cautiously tested his mom's inner thigh.

His heart stopped once his mom moved her hands. Then his eyes flew open wide. Her thumbs slowly rubbed the sides of his index fingers. Allen was close to passing out.

He tested her more. His thumbs daringly stroked with more pressure and covered more area. His mom copied him. He pushed deliberately into inner thighs while making slow patterns. His mom delicately traced the tip of her thumb in circles on his hands.

Allen quivered in his shoulders. He could never touch another human as elegantly as his mom was touching him. All of his doubts faded. There was no denying the truth: He was having a risque encounter with his own mom.

Nothing made sense, and it felt like a dream. Allen's brain and heart were on fire. His knees were weak. All he could do was move his thumbs harder and faster. His mom matched his tempo every step of the way until she was practically pressing his hands into her legs.

Claire's chest was red and her mouth hung open as she breathed. She was scared and exhilarated at the same time. She had a sense of humor about matching him every time he escalated a little bit more, wanting to reward him for taking every risk. Her body demanded she get even closer to her son. So, she did. Claire sighed heavily as she sunk deeper into his lap and torso. Her body molded into his, and the side of her chin rested on his soft, black hair.

Abruptly, Claire stood up again. She held the pillar with one hand and flatted her dress with the other. She shook the humidity out of her malleable polyester.

She practically let herself fall back onto her son's cock, knowing he'd make sure she landed safely. He did. Claire nestled her chin on his head again, growing more familiar with his body and sizable erection.

Claire saw her son's outstretched hands off to the side. She did nothing. Allen took the hint—she was testing his mettle. He had a rattle in his breath as he lowered his hands just below the hem of her dress. Claire quickly corrected him by pulling his wrists higher, displacing her skirt.

Heat radiated onto Allen's palms as he massaged her again. Claire reciprocated promptly. She rubbed the tops of his hands and slid her fingers between his. In a cry of horniness, Allen curled his fingers and scratched his mom's legs. Before he knew it, he was melting and gasping.

Claire's bottom lip was snagged under her tooth. Again and again, she sensually grazed the tops of her son's forearms. She raked her fingernails up to his elbows before beginning again. She wanted to make his toes clench in his sneakers just like hers were.

HOLY SHIT.

Claire suddenly froze. Her hands went still. Her jaw hung open. And her eyes gaped. She saw that her son's hands had also stopped moving on her glistening legs... He knew what he did.

Allen had just flexed his cock against Claire. And it wasn't an accident.

That was so fucking dumb of him. Everything had been going so well for him. He was getting so far with his hands. Now, Claire could hardly imagine the fear and panic in his young eyes. She smirked.

With a quick squeeze, Claire flexed her butt, then ran all of her fingers up his veiny forearms again. She could feel Allen tremble beneath her from her little love tap. His happy cock twitched again.

Now Claire knew what he liked. She stiffened her ass against his erection and dragged her fingernails up his arms. There was an eager tap on her butt.

But Claire didn't reciprocate. She sat still. She waited. She tested. Seconds later, there was another tap. It was harder. Claire lit up and flashed her white teeth. He wants you, hehe!

After one more pleading tap, Claire finally paid him some attention. She stayed still and simply ran her nails up his skin. He tapped again. And then again, more desperately. He already missed her loving squeeze.

In a maniacal tease, Claire waited for one more plea before she rewarded her son for his persistence. With a swivel of her hips, Claire delivered a powerful, sensual massage with her toned butt. A sharp gasp pierced her ear. Claire snuggled into her son's lap.

Allen recklessly bucked up from his waist. Claire toyed with him by skimming her French tips up the sides of his legs, from knees to just under his mesh shorts. When his erection reacted, Claire wiggled against his cock and abdomen.

From there, the mom and son traded responses—each move more intentional and timely than the last. For Allen, this was a thrilling way to test his mom's limit. For Claire, this was a euphoric game of sexual repartee, which she knew how to play.

Soon, Claire was grinding on her son's cock. Allen was bucking feverishly, throwing his erection into the gyrating butt cheeks, earning as much pleasure as he could. Between their arid panting, their sensuality, and the ceaselessness of their movements, Claire finally accepted what she was doing—You're dry-humping.

Claire could not—would not—stop. Time had no meaning. Location had no meaning. Consequences had no meaning. There was only now. Her brain gloriously bathed in the dopamine released by her deepest erotic fantasy coming to life.

The tension was excruciating. She was operating under the constraint of a seatbelt in a car that was stopping randomly, but Claire circulated her hips as seductively as she could. She wanted Allen to feel what she was capable of doing to his cock, and she wanted to feel him lustfully thrust his cock against her.

Claire watched his less-experienced hands creep farther and farther up her legs while he peeled her sundress up. Claire did nothing to stop him. She did notice another problem, though. Shit, he's being too loud.

She didn't want anyone else involved, or distracted, or in the know right now. This was just about her and her son. "Breathe quietly," Claire warned. She eased her pace to help him. She focused on fun rather than vigor.

The panting in her ear softened to a grunting whimper. Claire leaned forward to look down in her son's eyes. "Having fun...?"

Allen winced. He tilted his chin and saw his mom's nose and eyes hovering over him. She looked excited. Allen had never been more intimidated. "Yeah," he nodded.

Claire pursed her lips. "I can't believe we're doing this, haha!"

Allen didn't know where to begin. He was stupefied.

The intensity grew again. Claire slid her hands onto the sides of Allen's legs and squeezed, trying to muster more control and force. Meanwhile, Allen continued to adventurously inch his fingers deeper inside his mom's dress, getting closer and closer to the source of heat that was radiating onto his testicles.

Fuck. Wow! Fuck! Claire was soaking wet. She loved the steam from their combined heat seeping through her dress. She wanted her son to feel it on his cock and love it, too. She arched her back and humped his cock between the crack in her ass.

Then, Allen stopped. Claire was thrown off rhythm and slowly grinded to a halt. Wha- What the hell happened? She watched her son's wrists fall out of her dress and off to the side.

"What about dad?"

"What?" Claire exhaled, trying to come down from her high. "What abou-? Oh... Just be quiet. He can't see us."

"No. Like..."

Claire proudly smiled. He doesn't want to hurt his dad. Aww, hehe! "Sweetie, he'll be fine with it. Just focus on me."

"Why do we have to be quiet then?"

Claire leaned forward and twisted back in his lap as much as she could. For the first time since they started, Claire got a good look at her son's handsome, dumbfounded, reddened face. She assuringly caressed his cheek with her palm. "Allen, I'll explain everything later. You can tell him about this yourself. He'll think it's funny. He'll be proud of you. Trust me."

Allen nodded. He didn't understand. He trusted his mom, though. Besides, she could've convinced him on anything right now.

They both took the opportunity to catch their breath and smell the scent of their perfumes and sweat hanging in the boxed-in cabin. Claire looked at the way she was gripping her son's leg. She felt the heat of his healthy cock and her wet pussy warming each other's skin. And she saw the purple cotton of her thong poking out from her bunched-up dress.

Claire and Allen's blue eyes met again. They studied each other, trying to infer every thought and feeling the other was experiencing. The mom and son both wore dazed smiles. Both had a wildness and an acceptance in their eyes.

"Be honest. Did you stop because you were worried about your dad? Or did you stop because you were nervous about how close you were getting?" Claire smirked widely and rubbed her thumb on his earlobe.

The color drained from Allen's face. His thumbs had been only an inch away from grazing his mom's wet thong and pussy. "Because of dad."

"Hmm. I don't believe you." Claire lowered her head and pecked her lips on her son's. When she opened her eyes, she saw the stunned breathlessness in his.

They kissed deeply. Claire's soft, full lips caressed Allen's. With her eyes closed and sitting on his lap, Claire felt like she was floating in air. Her heart hummed, and her nose crinkled as it brushed against his. It was more right and natural than Claire could ever imagine.

The kiss had been short, but it said a lot. It was comforting, loving, and flirtatious.

"Woah." Allen gaped.

"Haha!" Claire erupted in laughter and couldn't stop. She was overwhelmed by emotion, as was Allen. Like never heard before, he broke out in laughter with her. After another peck on the lips, Claire cocked her head and arched her eyebrow. Screw discipline. "What do you want?"

Allen was paralyzed by thought. He shook his head. "What do you mean?"

Claire firmly asked again. "What do you want?" Her hips swirled in his lap. "I want you to tell me what you want."

"Umm..." What did she want him to say? What was he allowed to say? What did she mean? Could he say anything he wanted?

Flipping her hair away from her damp neck again, Claire shrugged. "Maybe we can just make out until you think of an answer..."

"AHEM! HMMMGH!"

Claire and Allen broke out of their trance. They looked at the plywood boards from where the cough came. Then they looked out the window. They were in their garage. The radio was off. The air-conditioning was off. And the car was still. There was only the tick of the radiator.

Holy shit... How long had they been sitting there in park?

"Alllright, let's get this stuff unloaded!" Noah innocently cheered. The SUV rattled as he shut his door behind him.

Allen was in panic-mode. Claire was frustrated, and then very happy. Knowing how close she came, knowing how badly her son wanted her, knowing how desperate he'd be to have her, and knowing her loins would be aching and surging—It was like a euphoric drug. And more than that, she felt like a beautiful and amazing mother.

"I think I should get up," Claire lightly chuckled. Her limbs numb and fuzzy, and she struggled to hunch under the silver ceiling.

Allen opened his mouth and twiddled his thumbs. "Umm..."

Claire fawned over him. He was looking up at her the same way he did when he was in sixth grade and asked her for a dog. Only now, he had a gorgeous tent in his wrinkled mesh shorts. "Do you wanna talk after the car's unloaded?"

Allen nodded readily. He watched her iron out the wrinkles in her sundress with her hands.

Claire quickly leaned over and kissed him again. It was more teasing and seductive than before. She cutely whispered, "Sorry if I offended you earlier... You make a super comfy seat."

The son's pearly teeth shined between his pink cheeks. He wanted to apologize earlier for making it seem like she was heavy. He wanted to tell her how she was skinny and beautiful, and that he dreamed about her constantly. Instead, Allen sheepishly blushed and accepted the compliment. "Thanks."

When Claire crawled out of the liftgate, she emerged into the garage victorious—and horny.

Noah approached her and naively voiced his excitement for getting the car unloaded. He had a lot of questions for his wife. But the strands of hair clinging to her flush forehead, the disheveled state of her flowered dress, and dazed smile in her eyes answered most of them. Claire had obviously done much more than confirm whether their son would get erect.

Noah helped her regain her balance on solid land. He shook his head humorously. He knew why they had staged the car ride today. And it wasn't logic. It wasn't because this was the most prudent way to get Allen in the pool with her. All of this was because Claire fell in love with the idea of granting her son his ultimate fantasy—and Noah liked the idea of helping her do it. Plus, to her credit, Claire did a great job of rationalizing it.

*****

Every single piece of lumber and bag of powdered concrete was carried from the SUV to a storage space underneath the back deck.

The entire workout, Allen paced like a zombie with his head in a fog. Even after what his mom said, he couldn't bring himself to look his dad in the eye so soon after what happened. He just focused on walking with a lean, so that his shirt would hang over his erection stuck in his waistband.

Claire was inside, dancing about her room in a flurry. She showered and freshened up, all while practicing how she'd answer the questions her son would soon ask. After much debate, she wore the same sundress from the car. It was wrinkled and damp, but it might also trigger her son's arousal.

A new outfit might intimidate him, too, like you prepared for the talk. Well, I am preparing for the talk... Claire applied her mascara in the mirror. She watched her cheeks dimple in a bashful grin. But I'm gonna fuck him, too.

A pair of trudging feet marched past the door in the hallway. Claire listened to the sound of shower turn on in the bathroom that Allen shared with his brother. She felt a tinge of disappointment. She loved the smell of a working man after a hard day. But it was okay. "I guess I'll just have to make him smell that way again..."

It was all happening so fast. Absurdly fast. Claire's seduction of Daryl had been so long and wonderful. But Allen wasn't Daryl. Claire and Daryl had to grow into each other, and they used sex to build a stronger connection. With Allen, Claire already felt a deep, organic bond—even before the tip of his cock poked her butt cheek.

They had always been able to read each other and sense things about the other nobody else could. They noticed small changes in the other's behavior. Their verbal communication and openness needed to improve. But the foundation and importance of their relationship was greater than any mother and son could hope for.

Claire knew that her husband would tell her wait. But she was listening to his own wisdom: Her job as a mother was to love each son in the best way for him. Nobody knew how to love Allen better than Claire... regardless of the form it took.

As they had planned, Noah drove off to run an errand. If Claire and Allen went to the pool to swim, they could do so knowing they'd be alone without anyone else seeing. But Claire didn't need the pool. She lay on her bed, with her feet hanging off the edge and her eyes gazing up at the whirling ceiling fan blades. She waited for Allen to get out of the shower and change.

*****

"Hey!"

"Hey."

Claire stood with her hands on her hips. Her son was in a gray t-shirt, khaki short, and his bare feet were up on the ottoman. He seemed lost in his own mind—understandably. "Watchin' some TV?"

"Eh, not really." Allen noticed the subtle sway in his mom

"Gotcha. I don't know if he told you, but your dad had to run a few errands. So, maybe this would be a good time to talk in your room?" Claire couldn't hide her smile.

As Allen nodded and got up, he was clearly nervous. But Claire swore she saw his mouth briefly curl. The mother and son walked down the hallway to Allen's room. Claire sat on the edge of the bed and watched as Allen closed the door behind him and joined her. He sat close, but there was a foot of space between them.

"Umm... Ha. Well," Claire pushed her hair behind her ear, "I think what just happened was a little unexpected for the both of us. And you probably have a lot of questions about- "

"I know about you and Daryl!"

Claire froze. She stared at her son, holding her breath. "What?"