Things Take Time

When she arrived at his apartment and he opened the door, she could see it in his eyes. She wasn’t a fool and was prepared to forestall any physical intimacy he might initiate. What she wasn’t prepared for was the way he held her…unspeaking, yet saying it all…unmoving, but reminding her of every movement he had made inside her…so near to the flame she feared would engulf them both.

Neither had said a word when his lips closed off her resigned whimper. He was more forceful with her than he had been in Charleston. He removed her jacket and dress and guided her to her knees. He released the hardening flesh from his pants and she looked at the heavy knob he thrust in her face and opened her mouth. She took the spongy mass in and he worked part of the shaft into her mouth as well. He held her head and stroked into her mouth and then, realizing how rough he was being, he reigned in his hostility and was gentler.

James was surprised at her ability to suck him. He had been with lots of women for a youth his age but he didn’t expect his mother to be so practiced. He put it from his mind as she took more and more of him into her mouth. He spread his legs slightly to perfect the angle at which he entered his mother’s mouth. He contacted her throat but she continued sucking. Her hands lovingly caressed him. Mary would have gladly stayed there and sucked her son until he came in her mouth but he lifted her to his arms and said, “Come with me mother.”

She melted whenever he called her that and followed him to the bedroom. He told her, “Mary, I’ve never wanted a woman the way I want you…” As he reached behind her to unclasp her bra she gained some composure.

Mary was breathing hard when she told him, “James you have to hear me.” He was fondling her breasts and watching as the nipples hardened. She held his arms and said, “James, look at me.” He looked up. “I’m going to marry your father…and if we do this…it’s the last time.” Her voice softened, “…the last time…honey…do you hear me…do you understand.”

He looked at her in wounded resignation, “Okay…I understand.”

She shook her head from side to side and said “Oh God…” as she put her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. He took her panties off and kissed her belly down to the top of her pubic area as she inhaled in anticipation. He kissed the skin that covered her hood sending sparks to the nerve endings in her clit. He took off the rest of his clothes.

She was on the bed with her legs apart when he finished undressing and returned his mouth to her pussy. He manipulated her clit with his tongue until he felt her rise and said, “Do you want me to stop…should I leave you alone?”

She softened his hostility by saying, “Please James…don’t be mean…just love me…do it for me…this is the last time I’m ever going to feel your love like this.”

He came back to her and his mouth was on hers as she guided his turgid staff between the lips of her wet opening. He was inside and it felt so good, it felt so good that he became agitated again. He knew he was taking something from the pleasure he should be feeling at that moment but how, he wondered, could she take this from him. How, he anguished, could this be the last time?

He pulled out and kneeled before her. She was unsure of what he wanted as he raised her legs slightly. He touched the surface of her tender rosette with his finger without entering. She closed her eyes as his fingertip traced and stroked the small opening. She heard him say, “Mother, I want all of you.”

Before she could react, he pressed her legs back with his forearm. He took his cock that was hot from the friction of her pussy into his hand and directed it to her small pinkish pucker. The wet head opened it and she gasped followed by a moan that seemed to go on forever. His cock was so swollen it looked to him as if it would be impossible to get it all inside her. That didn’t stop him from trying.

He shifted her to the edge of the bed and then with his feet on the floor he drove with his hips until half of his cock disappeared between the rounded globes. Another long moan from her was followed by the attempt to get it all in. He stroked back and forth and the constriction of her anal ring massaged the shaft. He drove the remaining inches into the hot passageway and she said, “Oh God…I’m on fire…oh…oh…” He was surprised that with each exclamation, she was pushing to meet his strokes. She grabbed his arms for balance and with each thrust he had complete penetration. She was taking it all in and he was climbing to the sky.

He took both of his mother’s breasts in his hands as he drove into her again and again. The tight passageway tried to hold him firm as he fought to keep moving inside her. The friction heated both of their sexes. Each time he completed a stroke, he stayed buried inside her, moving in her as though there were something in her he was searching for. Each time he did it she let out a moan that ended with a little cry. And when he said, ‘mother’ and stroked her, she said ‘yes’ louder and louder.

It was the first experience of anal sex for both mother and son and novelty combined with their incestuous relations intensified their response. This was something other for both of them. As he pounded toward climax she reached for him, clawed at him, to draw him closer, to make him one with her. She reached for their point of union; she wanted to feel the slippery skin of his cock as it stroked in and out of her. She made contact with her clit and immediately began coming. She let out a sound that was siren-like as she entreated her son. “Come baby…come with your mama…come in your mama’s ass…give me your cum…ohhhh…”

The first wet release brought a smile to his mother’s lips as she continued thrashing, “Yes baby…yes…yes…my baby…come in me …come in me my baby…”

James’ cry was almost one of pain as he let his seed go into his mother’s ass. “Awwww…God…mom…mom…mom…oh mom…oh mom…” The young man’s voluminous release filled his mother with thick streams. He kept calling to her as she held him round, wrapping her legs around him.

“Yes baby…yes baby…yes…”

When he was done he asked her, “I didn’t hurt you, did I mom?”

“No James…no…it felt good…so good.” He rolled off her and turned his back to her, on his side, very still. She felt his feelings, she felt her own. The only consolation she could offer was a hand on his back. She knew that at that moment, words would be pointless.

Mary married Brian when July finally warmed Toronto. Brian convinced James to take a summer job as an intern for him. James knew if he took the job he would see more of Mary and that would mean more distress. It didn’t matter; he would see more of Mary.

James enjoyed the office and the work. His father was pleased and told him he had an aptitude for it. He got along well with the staff especially with Claire and Eddie who always had time to show James the ropes and listen to him. They were both in their thirties and he thought they made a nice couple.

James had some meetings at his father’s house and Mary made lunch and drinks but that was not what he hungered and thirsted for. Mary never let on. No furtive glances, no kisses beyond his cheek, no touches above his hand. If his conversation turned toward anything but business or small talk, she deftly deflected it.

Only once that summer did she hang up on him, when he asked her if she remembered what it was like, when he was inside her. She hung up not out of anger but because she remembered too well. Only once that summer did she push him away, when his hardness behind her and his lips on her neck were too much to bear.

A year passed. Three words that take us in an instant from one time to another. That’s not how it happens for people. For James, he lived each day with a drumming behind everything he did. Like the beat of a song that’s so loud and strong, after a while, you don’t hear it anymore. That was the ostinato of his life…Mary…Mary…Mary.

Move on. That’s what they tell you to do. He moved on, in the same place. Every woman he slept with became Mary. Anything worth talking about, he wanted to share with Mary. When his father was away, he hardly left her side. He put up a good front but she could see the torment in his face. It pained her to be the cause of his distress. She wanted to give him what he wanted but all of her said that it would be wrong.

James got closer to Claire at work and when he found out that she and Eddie weren’t a couple they spent a few evening together talking, and laughing. He told her lots but never the details of who was involved. It was a long difficult year that brought them to the night of the party.

Brian had asked James to take Mary to an Anniversary dinner of a couple from work. It didn’t help that everyone was happy, or looked happy. It didn’t help when someone said to Mary that James looked more like her boyfriend than her son. He drank through the speeches and drank through the toasts. He spent some time with Claire and Mary danced with him and drank with him.

When Mary went upstairs to the bathroom, he followed her. Before he could lock the door, he was in behind her. Her breasts were in his hands and he began grinding himself hard against her rear. She pushed him backwards and turned with an anguished expression and shook her head wordlessly.

“I’m sorry,” he said, as he leaned back against the wall. “I just don’t know what to do.”

Mary was near tears, “Oh, and do you think I know what to do? Do you think this makes it easy for me? What do you want James…what do you want me to do? You tell me…because I can’t go on like this…do you want me to leave your father…cheat on him…he’s been so good to me…so good to us…should I treat the first person who’s cared about me like dirt?” Realizing where they were she pushed at him, “Come on, get out of this room before…”

They stepped into the hall and James said, “ You know, I care about you too.”

“Oh honey, I know you do…you know I love you but we can’t be together that way anymore…we’re not going to…” She held his cheek in her palm and said, “I’m always going to love you but I can’t end up hating myself to do it…please James…”

He took a deep breath and said and forced a smile at her, “Okay Mary…all right”

When they got downstairs Claire asked James if he could take her home. He did after dropping Mary off. They spoke for a long while. James slept at Claire’s that night but not with her.

That night, like many nights, he dreamed of Mary. The images were sharp and clear: his mother’s lips caressing his hardness and his softness…he could feel her tongue on him as sure as the day he had been in her mouth. And he did her…the way he did her when she uttered that ecstatic moan that played behind all his fantasies…moaning as he licked the fleshy jewel between his mother’s legs…coaxing it to swell from under the slippery hood. And then he was entering her…penetrating and pervading his mother in every place forbidden, until she cried for him to stop and cried for him not to. And each fantasy brought the fulfillment he had when he had taken her…coming…thick, and full, and rich, into each of her openings. He thought he would dream forever.

Time heals all wounds. No. It does not. Time heals nothing. What heals is that things happen during the time that passes. Sometimes it just seems to occur when the body-mind sets about its task of taking care of itself. Have you ever been worried or afraid or whatever, and then ten minutes later for no apparent reason you start to feel better? That’s what happens when time passes. And sometimes you talk to yourself and a blessed sentence that you hadn’t thought of makes sense, and you’re changed. That’s what happens when time passes. And if you’re fortunate, you have a friend or a professional, or a lover that listens and understands and you’re not so alone anymore and that’s what happens when time passes.

That’s what happened to James. Time passed and things happened in time. Move on. That’s what Claire told him. It made sense, because of Claire. Claire, who listened for months, listened without passing judgment even when he finally had the courage to tell her his whole truth.

Claire happened. ‘Perhaps’ he thought, ‘things happen the way you need them to.’ And what he needed was Claire: Claire, who was older…Claire who would love him. Claire, who would understand the creamy memories of his mother that he held. Claire, whom he would come to love and make love to, and as he did he would think of…her…and wait.