The Lark and the Goddess Pt. 01

It was Friday, the day before my nineteenth birthday. As always, my mother met me at the door when I got home and gave me her oh so familiar hug, bringing me tightly into her heavy chest. I always loved these deep embraces, and I nestled into the peaking cleavage that showed through the top of her partially unbuttoned coat, taking in the scent I had always been fond of -- no, obsessed with. Mum had always been a paragon of feminine beauty and quality, and to me, she was rivalled by none.

"I'm off hon. Be good okay?" She said, kissing me on my cheek. I admit I turned subtly, slightly enough to catch her lips just barely on the edge of mine.

"Sure, mom." I replied plainly, playing it cool.

"Dinner's in the oven, I'll be home before twelve, birthday boy." She added as she stood up and ruffled my dark brown locks.

"Okay, mom, I'll be fine! Have fun on your date." I said, waving and heading into the house.

"I love you." She added before I closed the door.

"Love you too, mom."

I watched through the peephole, mystified by her swaying hips and shapely backside, as she made her way to her car. The way her long jacket cinched her form was like something out of an old noir film; a real femme fatale silhouette. As soon as she was in her car however, I locked the door and tore upstairs, heart beating in anticipation of my home alone ritual.

I entered her bedroom as I had done countless times previous and became intoxicated with the perfumed aroma that always hung in her chamber's air. It was another scent I'd always known, and it never failed to give me an immediate and palpable comfort.

See, I never knew my father. My mother told me he had died a few days before she had learned she was pregnant and that it had been just her and I in our large house for the length of the pregnancy. She told me she used to sing and hum and bathe in the herbs and aromas her dula prescribed her. The birthing went off without a hitch so my mother kept up with the scenting, convinced it was a powerful guardian to my upbringing and her total care of me.

I undressed and tossed my clothes into the hallway, not wanting to dirty this temple with my daily wear. I stepped gracefully, feeling my toes sink into her plush carpet as I crossed to her en-suite bathroom. I came into the marble tiled wet room and stood before her double mirror. I examined my blossomed body and smiled at what I saw. Wearing it like my mum did, my dark, slightly curly hair fell way past my small nipples and tickled my sharp hips. I'd always had a fast metabolism and my tall skinny body kept nothing on its bones. I was at least 6' feet now, apparently my father had been the tallest of any of our ancestry and his genes shined bright with promise when it came to me. However, his height was all I inherited. Everything else seemed a carbon copy of my mother. My hips flared gently and my waist pulled inward before them, giving me a curiously feminine shape. My long legs grew no hair thanks to my mums ethnic roots, my nipples puffed slightly, and lips blossomed, full and pouty. My green eyes blinked darkly beneath thick arched brows, and I winked at myself as I pinched a nipple, letting out a gasp of pleasure in doing so.

This simple exploration of my body was cut short as I went to her shower and opened the pristine glass door before turning on the water and dripping a combination of shower fragrances and bath aromas into the quickly steaming water. Mum taught me all the tips and tricks to keep my skin as soft as rose petals and I made sure to always follow her regimen to the letter.

I stepped into the shower and washed quickly but carefully, paying special attention to cover myself in the scents and sensations of her womanly products.

I exited her shower and dried my hair meticulously. Mum had always loved my soft locks and taught me well how to care for each and every strand. I patted my body down and proceeded with the moisturizer regimen she'd had me memorize, rubbing myself down like I worshipped my own form. A few spritzes of her old perfume finished the preamble to the main event of my ritual.

I reentered her bedroom and the chill of the room lapped at my hot body, hardening my just softened nipples. I sighed and pinched them again, knowing there would be plenty more time for pleasure.

I went right to her closet and pulled open the door to the walk in. This was the heart of her temple, and I, a lowly worshipper, was taken by the treasures inside. Her dresses lined one side, an arrangement not unlike the plumage of an exotic bird. All the manner of colour and fabric hung here and the smell clung more strongly to them than in the room outside.

The opposite side held her business clothes, sharp tailoring and dark colours complimenting her career. She was one of the tops in her field, a "marketing wizard" as her colleagues called her once at a party she held at our house. The dresses and sharp suits were wonderful, but they paled in comparison to the true treasure I was after. A double dresser at the end of the walk in was the primary objective of my ritual. I stepped to it gently and swiftly, gliding between the relics of her beauty.

I set my long fingered hands, perfectly manicured, upon the drawer and pulled it slowly out. I held my breath as my heart threatened to beat out of my chest. My eyes fell upon the most treasured things in my life beyond myself and my mum.

Her lingerie.

I had discovered it one day by accident, years ago. Finding great comfort in the environment of her closet, I'd play and adorn myself in her clothes and underwear. It became a part of me, a special and intimate way for me to worship her, her grace, and the excellence all of womankind.

I let my hands glide over the meticulously organized contents of this drawer. Rich and fine silks and nylon pieces in an assortment of classic colours shivered under my fingers. Lace and mesh kissed my nerves as I closed my eyes and opened them again. Today I selected a favourite ensemble; a deep green luxury bralette with a matching pair of lacy high waist cheeky panties. I saw my mum buy them last spring when we vacationed in Europe, but they always stayed at the bottom of the drawer. Perhaps she'd not worn them since? I opened the lower drawer and complimented the matching set with a peach coloured garter belt and matching thigh high opaques with a flowery lace trim crowing their tops.

I cradled the precious bundle in my thin, bare arms and traced my steps back out of the walk in, closing the door carefully behind me as I stood in front of her full length mirror. Her bed, made up with soft sunshine feather duvets and fluffy pillows made me smile as I caught it in the mirror behind me. She'd never shied away from allowing me into her domicile when I'd experienced a bad dream or felt lonely in the night. Her warmth and body beside me, holding me tightly always managed to send me back into a deep and happy slumber.

Taking a deep breath, I began to dress in her most intimate wear. I rolled the stockings like a seasoned professional up my long legs, smoothing them out millimetre by millimetre as I set them about my thin milky thighs. I'd watched my mum do it a hundred times, and with fierce practice, got it down to a science myself. I clipped the garter belt around my waist and set the lace tops of the stocking into their fastenings with ease. The bra followed next and I shivered as I fastened it behind my back, my long arms helping the dexterous act. Slipping the straps around my shoulders, my boyish nipples flared again as the silky cups laid flat against them. It always confused me how well this particular set fit me, as I knew her regular wired bras were far larger than the bralette.

Oh, duh! Maybe that's why she never wore this set! She must have bought it too small for her by accident! I surmised happily. An easy deduction I should've made ages ago.

The panties followed the bra and I sighed out loud as the thin material slipped up in between my cute bum and kissed the sensitive rosebud that hid between my supple cheeks.

Satisfied, I stepped back from the mirror and took in my appearance. Before me was a dainty young thing clad in luxurious lingerie. I'd not tried my hand at makeup yet, but my soft feminine features made it almost unnecessary. Just standing there, I was an easy pass for a young female.

I ran my hands over the silks of the emerald and peach set and shuddered at my caress. I skipped backward to the bed and threw myself onto it, swishing my legs back and forth together in the air to get the full experience of the nylon material. The air in the room was still cool and the perfumed currents washed me in an erotic glow. My stiffening "clit" came to life as my hands rushed over it, letting it free of the briefs as I stroked and brushed it. I was always careful to remain level in my pleasure as to not ruin my mother's treasures with my fluids of arousal, so my touching remained slight and worked out my arousal until I softened enough to slip myself back into the encasing of the panties.

I let out a long breath of bliss as I rolled in my mother's bed, once again elated at another ritual well done. My mum said she'd be late so I chose to extend the ritual past the usual expiry, being so bold as to venture outside her temple in the large house beyond. I figured I'd spend the evening in her underwear, and draped myself in the white rayon kimono which always hung on the back of her door.

So it was, I spent the evening on a date with myself, carefully and spiritually, while having all the fun an eighteen year old alone in the house could have. I ate the dinner prepared for me, washed the dishes swiftly, gamed some, watched some TV, and beamed all the while. Especially thinking about how on the microphone of my game nobody could have known who they played against or how luxuriously dolled up I was!

As the clock wound down to 10 or so, I proceeded with my own wind down. Up to the temple once again I went to derobe and reset my mother's things. As I stepped into her room and cast off her kimono, I barely heard the front door open, and the tell tale steps of my mother coming up the stairs.

I was frozen as the sound hit me, stuck with my nyloned toes clenching the plush carpet below me. The chill air playing with my puffy nipples through the sheer fabric, the perfumed air dancing with my senses as they all came to realize the horror of the inevitable next moment.

My mother came into her room, and stopped in the doorway as her eyes landed on mine. The fear I felt immediately melted away to a stronger instinct as I beheld my mother's eyes welling up with tears. Only during movies and her anniversary did I see my mother cry, so this was wildly out of place.

I took a step forward.

Mum? Are you okay? I asked inquisitively, boldly, protectively, no matter my current state of dress.

She almost choked as a slight smile of bewilderment overtook her plump lips.

"Sweetheart...." she said simply as she stepped toward me and threw herself into my arms, holding me tightly to her as she began to cry again, her head buried in my neck.

For the life of me, I couldn't track how long she held onto me and cried, but I stood stoic in protection of her and her emotions as she did.

Finally her tears subsided and she let me go, holding my thin arms by my elbows and examining me at arms length. Up and down her eyes went, as if she was trying to memorize me or study some details I was unaware of. She looked me over again and again and smiled and cocked her head here and there. Then finally she took me in her arms again and brought her lips to my ear.

"You're stunning, little bird." She said lovingly in a gentle whisper.

I could've died in that moment. 'Little bird' was the nickname she called me when all was perfect in our lives. The compliment that preceded it was merely frosting on the cake.

"You...you're not mad?" I asked back as tears came to my own eyes. I fought a lump in my throat.

"Of course not sweet boy. Of course not." She replied and stood up.

Though I was tall, she was taller than me by a few inches in her heels, and she took my hand as she crossed to her bed. She sat me down on its edge as she began to undress as if she were alone.

I watched in utter amazement as she took her jacket off and let it fall to the floor. An act uncharacteristic of her. However stranger than that was the fact she wore no regular clothes underneath, but a luxury lingerie set of her own, one I recognized immediately but never dared to explore myself. It was a deep red and shone in the light of her room, as if each fibre was threaded with starlight. Her finely shaped ass called out to me, and it took all my strength to not bury myself in her cleft where the material of the panties -- much like mine -- slipped into the secret area. She turned to me and the faintest whimper escaped my lips as I beheld her in my sight.

The balconette bra held aloft her ample breasts, each I guessed were almost as big as a honeydew. My eyes traced down her body to a glistening waist clincher with garter clips fastened to a deepcrimson pair of lace topped stockings. Over the straps a low cut pair of hipster panties hugged her curvy hips, creating a wondrous and unbearable hourglass figure. A pair of dark high heels finished her look, and though somewhere in my mind I knew it was wrong, I couldn't pull my eyes away from her.

"Mum...you're so beautiful..." I managed to squeeze the words out, surprised I still knew how to speak.

"You think so, sweetheart?" She asked, a tremor in her voice threatening another emotional collapse.

"I've never lied to you." I said, perhaps too maturely for my age. But it was the truth and she knew it.

She stood facing me with a stoic countenance and a relaxed posture, and as the silence grew between us I couldn't fathom what she was thinking. But with her body on display, I simply couldn't focus, and my mind drifted to its study.

My mother was pushing her early forties and always made off comments here and there about how her body was fading but I never entertained those quips. I didn't believe nor understand the rhetoric and I always tried to reassure her when and however I could.

Her long dark hair fell much like mine, though curlier. Her plump lips dwarfed my own and sat beneath a beautifully slender nose which was flanked by piercing green eyes and thick, manicured brows. Even without makeup, though now she was done up like an actress, she was a vision of absolute beauty to me. Her frame was thicker than a magazine model, but cut taught and curved in all the right places. I gawked at how shapely she was, her narrow waist flared out with wide hips and an ass that you could sleep on. Much like the breasts sitting proudly on her chest.

"You're such a darling. Why do you love me so much, little bird?" She remarked as she made her way to me, standing in front of me, my face level with her bosom.

I stared up into her caring eyes as she stared back.

"Because... I would die without you. You gave me life...you are my life." I replied, meaning every single word.

Again the silence that sat between us was almost palpable, as if my mother was calculating some impossible formula.

She shattered it with a single question.

"Would you like to touch mommy?" She asked, referring to herself as she did when I younger.

My heart skipped a beat and I blinked dumbfounded. It was all I ever wanted, but now that it was offered, my body was frozen.

"What?" I choked out, disbelief crawling its way up my spine.

"Here." she said simply as she ran her arms down mine and took up my hands, before kissing them both and placing them on her lace encased breasts.

"Is this okay?" She asked, probing my consent.

I sucked in a breath of air and swallowed deeply. "Yes..." I managed to whisper as my fingers began to move, almost of their own volition. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. Her hands over top mine began to squeeze and my fingers sank into the warm flesh of her bra held breasts. They were larger than my hands by far but I did my best to caress and squeeze them. I smiled as the nubs of her thick nipples hardened under my palms and I traced them in slow circles as her hands held mine still moving in unison with them, guiding and joining them in the touch.

Her breathing changed as I massaged her, and then her hands left mine. I watched as they went behind her back and unclipped the hooks of the balconette. Without command I moved my hands away and let the bra fall from her perfect form, freeing her.

Her breasts were more magnificent naked than in the lingerie and I let out another whimper as I beheld them. Her areolas were larger than a dollar coin but perfectly proportionate to each breast they punctuated, and her nipples were as thick and long as my thumb nail. Their pinkish hue seemed to darken with their arousal and they stood erect before my eyes.

"Kiss them." She invited and I didn't need to be told twice.

I brought my hot lips to them and she sucked in a sharp breath as my mouth closed over one nipple then the other in quick succession.

"Slowly." She taught.

I obeyed and slowed my action. Sucking and kissing them with careful patience, I swirled my tongue and sank my fingers in the bare flesh of each womanly globe for what seemed an eternity as my mother hummed and swayed.

She had been rubbing my back and shoulders and running her fingers through my hair as I suckled her but then she motioned me from her nipples and brought her face to mine. She starred into my eyes for a brief moment and I knew almost immediately what she wanted.

I obliged without a second thought.

"Mum... please." It was all I could manage to get out before her lips met mine in a kiss that was well beyond that of a mother and son.

Her tongue parted my lips and explored my mouth as I met it with my own, our shared saliva playing between us as our tongues danced. I moaned in a feminine pitch and she returned my expression with a deeply maternal but gentle moan of her own as we kissed.

She took my hands in hers and guided me back to the bed. She laid me down with my head on the pillows and with herself set above me, her breasts gracefully gliding and pressing into my chest as she lay atop me, our mouths never leaving their union.

We kissed and frenched and sucked on each other's tongues and swapped spit as we made out, exploring each others mouths as if the very air we breathed depended on it.

My hands played with her back and her hair as she kissed me, and my cock, stiff as a board, ached and pulsed underneath the weight of my mother's pelvis, warmly encased under layers of fine lingerie. Her legs lay nestled with mine, and as we made out, I raised my legs and shifted and wrapped them against her thick and powerful thighs, marvelling at the feel of the nylons as they slid against each other.

She then took her mouth from mine, sat up and straddled me. Smiling down at me as she ran her hands over my bralette strapped chest. She played with the shoulder straps and slipped a finger into the cups, swiping my sensitive nipples as she did so.

I breathed heavily at these swipes as she laid her palms flat against my hard nubs and mimicked my early actions. The lace shifted against them and dripped pleasure behind my eyes. I moaned again as she teased me.

"My little bird likes the lingerie, Mommy bought for her does she?" She asked, cracking the case wide open.

I tried to speak but she stopped me with a sharp pinch. Words were useless, she had known all along.

She let out a gentle laugh and leaned down to me to kiss my lips and then to whisper in my ear.

"You're beautiful my little bird. Gorgeous. Mommy loves you."