The Mechanic's Tale

"Public spectacle?"

"Not quite, though our conversation got quite heated. She called me narrow-minded, that plenty of young people were doing it nowadays. I said it was just an excuse for her to whore around for a little while. Basically cuckold me in one way, or keep me as a backup plan in another. I said we were done, paid for my dinner, and walked out. She came chasing after me but I wasn't having any of her shit. She had admitted to wanting another man. Probably been texting and flirting for ages already, and he's probably convinced her, or she's convinced herself I'd be all for it. Emotional cheating is what they call it. I'll find out through the grapevine whether she has been physically cheating on me or not, but the sheer audacity to spring that on me. I'm sure she's been blowing up my phone but I put it on silent and ignored it since leaving the restaurant."

"Clearly doesn't know you at all, Mark."

"Makes me fucking wonder, that's for sure." He swallowed his glass, coughing again to my amusement. "I just want to get really fucking drunk right now and forget all about her."

"Want some company?"

"Not sure I'll be good company."

"My son will always be good company."

He managed a grin at that as we started to slowly make our way through the bottle. There were no tears from him. He was quite obviously angry about what happened. He managed to rein it in most of the time, but once or twice, let's just say he wasn't exactly polite about his now ex-girlfriend. I knew he just needed to get it off is chest, and he'd be right as rain within a couple of days.

By the time we headed to bed, we were both a little drunk. He escorted me to my room like he always did, hugging me tightly. When he leaned back and looked at me, I put a hand to his chest. I could read his eyes as well as he could read mine. "Not when we've been drinking, Mark, and I won't be your rebound. Don't make that choice now."

He closed his eyes, took a couple of deep breaths, then he kissed my forehead tenderly. "I love you, Mum. More than ever."

"You're still my little boy at heart, despite the fact you tower over me now."

He hugged me tightly again before turning and staggering towards his own room. The girls were home by lunchtime the next day and certainly helped lift his mood. To say the two girls worshipped their brother would be an understatement. They didn't know their father. Mark was the only male presence in their lives except their grandfather. Mark hadn't spoken to his father in a number of years now. There was no relationship there to salvage. Despite the fact I despised my ex-husband, I was sad Mark had lost his father in a way, but he didn't seem to mind.

Mark was a little sad for a couple of weeks. Despite the stiff upper lip, it had been obvious to me that he'd loved Tamara, perhaps even been in love with her. He had talked to her at least a couple of times since that Saturday night. Apparently she'd said she didn't want the open relationship anymore, but Mark retorted that he simply couldn't trust her any longer. She'd opened the door and it couldn't be shut. There was enough to suggest, to him at least, that she was either cheating or thinking about it. Therefore, he was going to protect himself and confirm that the relationship was done.

He did hear that, within two weeks of the last phone call, she was practically shacked up with another guy. From what he was told by close friends, it was the very guy she was planning on meeting up with. By then, all Mark did was shrug and admit to absolutely no surprise. All he did in return was block her on everything and forget about her.

"Want to go out for dinner next weekend, Mum?" he asked over breakfast one morning a couple of months later. The girls giggled as I started to blush. I knew he hadn't started pursuing a new relationship, only leaving the house for work, shopping, his footy matches on a Saturday and the occasional beer with a friend.

"Sure, Mark. Where to?"

"Somewhere in the city, I guess. Maybe try a new place we haven't been before. Tell you what, you choose where to go. I don't mind."

"Why don't the girls go to their grandparents for the evening and we cook dinner together here?"

He grinned at that idea. "Yeah, that sounds good. We'll go shopping, pick up a few things. What about the girls? They could just stay here?"

"I'm sure they'd still love a night being spoiled by their grandparents."

The girls were vocal in their approval of that idea, so it was agreed. I'll admit to a flutter of butterflies the closer the weekend came. The missing affection had slowly returned during the past month. I knew Mark loved me deeply, far more than a son should love his mother. I won't lie. I was hoping he would finally give into his desires and want me as much as I wanted him. I would give him all the signals possible that I was willing for him to take me to bed. Every time I masturbated, which was a lot nowadays, my thoughts were only about my son.

I'd understood his hesitation, his pulling away. His feelings would have confused him. If I'd tried to talk him through it, convinced him it was okay, I was worried it would blow up in my face. Who could I possibly talk to about my own feelings? The only real place was the internet, but I simply wouldn't trust much of what I was told. So I took to reading a lot of mother and son erotica. Some of the stories were such a turn on, I would orgasm more than once during a reading. But they were pure fantasy. This was real life.

Mark took his sisters to their grandparents before returning home, picking me up so we could do some last minute shopping. Returning home, we started preparing a three course meal. We'd prepare the first two courses, the third was a store bought dessert. Mark put on a little instrumental music, ensured I had a glass of wine, and we had a lot of fun preparing. Once we had the main dish prepared and in the oven, we headed off to shower and changed.

I selected a little black dress, a plunging neckline that showed off my cleavage. I knew I didn't have the largest breasts around but I caught enough glances from my son to know he approved. Tight to my body otherwise, the hem barely reached halfway down my thighs. Underneath, I wore a lacey black bra and panties, with black stockings and heels. A little make up, making sure my red hair shone, as I knew how much he loved that, before I walked out to greet him.

He'd gone so far as to wear a suit, something I knew he rarely wore. He looked so utterly handsome, I nearly cried though felt an instant dampness between my legs. He simply had no idea how much he turned me on. Hands behind his back, he proved his charm by approaching and offering me flowers. "You look beautiful, Mum," he whispered, leaning down to kiss my cheek.

"I'm going to need to fix my make-up," I whispered back, taking the offered flowers, "They look beautiful."

"Well, nearly as beautiful as you, Mum."

I felt heat rise in my cheeks. I think my son was wooing me. It was simple, but it was working. He escorted me to the dinner table, ensuring I was sat down, a glass of wine, flowers in a vase in the middle, taking off his suit jacket before he prepared the first course. Sitting down next to me, I took his hand in mine, watching him lift his eyes to mine and smile.

"Thank you, Mark."

"Do it because I love you, Mum."

"I love you too." I cleared my throat. "Is this a date, Mark?"

"Yep."

"Then call me Cathy." That raised his eyebrows. "If my man is going to treat me to a home cooked meal, wine and flowers, he's going to call me Cathy." I leaned forward, gauging his reaction. "Though I'd rather you call me Mum later..."

I was expecting a nervous reaction, but I was left thinking he'd been sorting out his feelings, as she leaned forward, his face barely an inch from mine. "Mum or mummy, mother?" he whispered, before leaving a soft kiss on my lips. It was so soft, so sensual, I felt my cheeks burning up as he pulled back.

With a slightly smug grin, he tucked into his first course, the conversation flowing as easily as ever between us. He was making great strides at work, talking about becoming the manager of his current place, suggesting he might move to an authorised mechanic for a particular car company, as the money was better. He had ambitions to open his own business, but knew it would be difficult, and it was a dog eat dog business. But he admitted the risk might be worth it.

Couldn't have been more proud of my son. I think I beamed at him the entire time he talked about it.

The main meal we'd prepared together. It was delicious, the wine with it complimented it well, but I could see Mark's eyes on me nearly all the time. When I was talking, he always met my eyes, his interest in whatever I was saying never wavering a second. But when we were quiet, I knew he was looking me up and down. He wasn't shy about it any longer. He was growing in confidence. I knew he desired me, and I was confident in myself that he would eventually give into that desire.

Or that's what I hoped. We'd both waited long enough for this moment.

He served dessert, placing in front of me before he lifted my chin with a finger, leaning down to leave another soft kiss on my lips. "You're so beautiful, Cathy. I love you," he whispered. The way he touched my cheek, the look in his eyes, the feeling of his lips against mine...

He sat down, though hadn't released my hand, both of us eating one handed. My right hand wouldn't stop shaking, feeling him squeeze my left. "I'm nervous too, Cathy," he admitted.

I couldn't help smile at him using my name. "I shouldn't be nervous."

"Nothing wrong with nerves. This means a lot to both of us."

I just about managed to finish dessert. Clearing up everything and turning on the dishwasher, he took me by the hand into the living room, turning on the stereo and finding some music. Offering his hand, we danced. I have no idea how long we danced, but being held in his arms as we simply swayed, I'd never felt as loved in my life until that moment. Resting my head against his chest, amazed at how hard it felt, I ran my hands up and down his back. My son wasn't one to show off, though he did go without a shirt when it was warmer.

When I finally looked up to meet his eyes, there was no longer any hesitation. He leaned down and kissed me. And it wasn't like the previous kisses. It was firm and full of his desire for me. I accepted his tongue and I was in dreamland. I couldn't help the whimper that escaped me as I felt myself pulled against him again, and there was no missing the fact my son was hard for his mother. When he released a soft moan, I couldn't help the little giggle that escaped me.

Leaning back, he caressed my cheek again, moving my head into his palm. "I'm sorry, Cathy."

"For what?" I had to ask.

"For taking this long to figure it out."

I smiled and kissed him again. "It's not an easy decision. But can I ask..."

"Who loves me more than my mother? Who do I love more than my mother? Who do I trust more? Who have I spent the last eight years with raising children? Cathy, we were pretty much together, just a large age gap and without the sex." He sighed. "God, it even felt like I was cheating on you at times."

"Never think that, Mark. You are still your own man, and you will be... Until the moment we are intimate. Then you're mine." That made him smile. "Do you like that thought? Of being intimate with me?"

"I love it."

*****

Mark

I'd made my mind up within a week of ending things with Tamara. My previous couple of relationships had ended on good terms, but it was with Tamara that I'd actually fallen in love for the first time, and I honestly thought there was a future. I hadn't started planning anything, it had only been nine months, but I was ready to move in together and then go from there. Instead, she turned out to be someone I wasn't expecting. I ended the relationship with no regrets. I wasn't going to be someone's second choice, and what I learned afterwards, I'd certainly made the right decision. She moved on without a second thought.

I could have done the same thing, but the woman I wanted most of all was my mother, and I'd spent nearly two years ignoring my feelings about her. I knew how she felt about me. I remembered every word from that night. She had admitted her feelings for me but said it was up to me.

So I was a coward and ran from my feelings. I had no idea if I hurt my mother in the process, but while I was busy dating, I knew she wasn't. The guilt was almost overwhelming at times. It's why I rarely brought a girl back home, using the excuse of not wanting to introduce them to my sisters until I was serious about the relationship. I did eventually take Tamara home, left wondering if she noticed any similarities to my mother. I'm sure it was a subconscious thing, the fact Tamara also had red hair, green eyes, was rather petite. If she noticed, she never said anything.

I loved my mother. I loved her more than anyone, except maybe my adorable little sisters. They sometimes felt more like daughters than sisters. But, at the same time, my mother felt more like my partner. It's what made up my mind. I was going to go for it, embrace my feelings for her, and see what happened.

And that's how I found myself in the living room that night, Mum in my arms, looking up at me with a mixture of love and unbridled desire in her eyes for me. "Do you like that thought? Of being intimate with me?" she asked.

"I love it."

I led her to the couch, sitting down as she wasted no time straddling my lap, the hem of her dress sliding up even further so I got a sign of black panties, the top of her stockings, and some smooth thigh. Running my hands up her legs to the bottom of her dress, I found the zip at the back of her dress, lowering it so I could easily take it off her.

Mum straddled my lap in just her underwear, stocking and heels. What I found adorable was the fact she seemed to be shaking with nerves. Forty-year-old woman as nervous as she would have been on her first date. I felt the same but simply tried to give the façade of confidence.

Running my fingers up her back, she leaned forward to kiss me again. Sliding my tongue into her mouth again, she was playful, making me smile. I didn't want to force myself on her, waiting for any signal she could give, if she wanted it firm, soft, somewhere in between. There was no doubt she would have felt my erection, feeling her move slightly on my lap. She eventually had to break the kiss. "You're hard," she whispered.

"Cathy..."

"Call me Mum now."

"Mum, I don't think I've been this hard in my life."

"I'll be blunt, Mark. You make me so wet all the time. It's a good thing you don't do the laundry and see the state of my panties nearly every day." I raised my eyebrows then she added, "If I'm wearing them," she added before kissing me again.

I managed to stand up, feeling her legs around my waist, arms around my neck, carrying her towards her bedroom. Sitting her down on the bed, I wasted no time taking off my shirt, trousers, shoes and socks before joining her on the bed. "Underwear," she whispered, "I want to see my son nude."

I had no problem with that idea, Mum getting onto her knees as she looked me up and down, her soft fingers trailing up and down my arms, over my chest before she met my eyes as I felt her fingers gently caress my cock. "My boy has a big cock," she murmured, "Bet you've heard no complaints."

"Well, not to my face," I replied with humour.

I wanted my mother naked, so took control, I think amusing her as I rather deftly took off her bra one handed. Placing that on the floor, I saw my mother's breasts properly for the first time in a few years. I could see the look in her eyes, the nerves on display. Would I find her sexy? Desirable? Forty, three kids, all breastfed, carrying twins had left their marks.

Lowering her down on her back, I kissed her again as my fingers brushed over her nipples, feeling her stockinged legs resting against me. Kissing down her check to her neck, she lifted her head so I could kiss and nibble at the exposed skin. The light moans told me everything I needed to know. Down her body further, I kissed across her breasts. They were not small, I knew she was a C-cup, though I'd heard more than once in conversations with friends she thought they were small.

"They're perfect, Mum," I whispered as I kicked and sucked everywhere. She ran her fingers over my head, "I love how hard your nipples are."

"I can't remember being this turned on!" she exclaimed, giggling away. It was a delightful sound.

I gave her breasts a lot of attention before kissing back up so I met her eyes, gazing into them as I ran a hand down to between her legs. The thin fabric of her panties were absolutely soaking wet, and pressing my fingers against her moan, she released quite the moan. "Mum, can I admit something?"

"Anything, baby."

"I love eating pussy. And part of the reason I do it so often is that, in the event this happened, I just wanted to spend hours doing it and I wanted to make my mother cum."

That confession earned me one hell of a kiss first, enough I was enveloped in arms and legs, chuckling as my cock pressed against her mound. If it wasn't for the fabric, I'd have probably slid inside her. That made her gasp and moan even louder. "Oh fuck!" she cried.

"That's for later, Mum," I said, "Would you love me to eat your pussy first?"

"More than anything, baby."

Removing my mother's panties was quite the moment, taking them off nice and slowly so she was only left in stockings and heels. I took off the heels too. Mum spread her legs for me and I definitely licked my lips. "I've been keeping it neat the past couple of months," she admitted, "Before then, it was quite the bush."

"Can I admit I wouldn't mind either way?" She smiled before I added, "But I do love the fact it's glistening."

"Mark, you touch me down there and I'm going to cum."

I put that to the test, leaning forward to kiss her softly before I ran my fingers ever so gently across her slit. She didn't quite orgasm but her entire body shuddered. I could have teased her relentlessly and we'd have both enjoyed it, but I wanted to taste my mother. Kissing back down her body, I inhaled her scent and groaned. Holy shit, it was utterly intoxicating. I needed to taste her.

She moaned loudly as I ran my tongue up her slit, her back arching slightly and I had a feeling she wasn't going to last long. Her taste was different, that musky scent I was used to but just something that made her taste better. I think it was probably in my mind, and the fact it was my own mother I was going down on.

"Mark," she moaned softly.

Mum was soon writhing as I lapped at her pussy, begging me to make her orgasm. So I teased her, ignoring her swollen clit, not sliding any fingers inside her just yet. She looked up and giggled. "I'm going to pass out when I orgasm," she said.

"Good. Excuse to just cuddle you afterwards."

She lowered her head back and laughed. "God, my son is already better than the other four men I was with."

"I should hope so, Mum."

Time to stop teasing her and figure out how she liked her clit treated. I started with some gently licks and, well, that seemed to work. She started to writhe even more, hearing her breathing change. Sliding a couple of fingers inside her pussy for the first time, that had her lifting her head again. "Oh, baby, that's perfect."

I just looked up and met her eyes as I started to use my fingers in the motion I figured would work. With attention on her clit at the same time, hearing her murmur to be a little firmer, she was soon begging me to help bring her off. "Oh god, Mark!" she cried. I could feel her pussy starting to squeeze my fingers, the sign she was definitely getting close. "Oh baby, I'm going to..."