Waking Up to Ellen

"Mom, if I let you go to bed now, we'll both just be angry and miserable and wide awake all night. Let me apologize and then you can go."

She struggled once more then spat, "Fine! But this doesn't mean you're forgiven!"

"Thank you." Michael took a breath and wondered what he could possibly say. "Mom, I'm sorry I scared you; I was trying to be funny and, obviously, I screwed up."

"Yes, you did, you dick! Now let me up."

He continued to hold her down. "I know this last week has been difficult for you. You have to be as confused as I am about all of this, and I'm sure you're scared about where we are heading. I am. You're my mom. I've loved you from the moment I was born, and I never want to lose that, I never want to do anything that would jeopardize that love."

She stopped struggling.

"But over the past week, I've learned so much about you. So many things that I had been blind to or just never had reason to ask. And I've fallen in love with this incredible woman I've discovered." He took another breath. "I don't know. I guess trying to be funny is how I deal with feeling emotionally overwhelmed, so I can't promise it won't happen again, but I will try to be more mindful of your feelings. Anyway, I am sorry, mom."

He let go of her wrists and leaned back until he was sitting on his heels, kneeling between her legs, dreading her response. For a long while she didn't move or speak, she just stared. Her arms were still above her head where he had pinned them, her hair was disheveled and splayed about her, and her face was expressionless.

"Did I break you?" he asked when he couldn't bear the silence anymore.

To his relief, she smiled, though there was a grimness to the edges. "No, you didn't break me." She put her fists to her hips and looked proud. "No man ever has," she said with a quick laugh before turning serious, "But you've given me a lot to think about. I didn't like your joke, but I think I understand where it was coming from."

She lifted her leg over Michael and rolled off the couch. "I'm going to bed; I've got work in a few hours. And you have classes."

"Are you mad at me?"

She looked pensive. "No, but I'm not exactly happy either. Let me sleep on it and we'll talk tomorrow."

***

Michael slept through most of his first two classes on Tuesday, both times waking with a start when the students around him abruptly gathered their things and headed for the doors. He only hoped he hadn't been snoring. He was the first one home that afternoon and buried himself in schoolwork to take his mind off the pending conversation with his mom.

She came home a little earlier than usual, explaining she had hoped they would have time to talk before his father got there. She sat down at the table across from him, with a lightness of being that only comes after having achieved clarity. It felt hopeful to Michael.

Taking a deep breath, she started, "The way I see it is that we have two choices: We can treat this as a fling, a love affair between two consenting adults who are attracted to one another but recognize that their circumstances wouldn't ever allow the relationship to be anything more than a fling. Or we can break this off now, go back to having a traditional and healthy mom and son relationship, and chalk this past week up to hormones and pent-up needs. I know which I would prefer, but I want to hear how you feel."

"I don't like either option, mom!" he protested, feeling his hopes had been dashed.

"Well, how do you see this going?" she asked pointedly, crossing her arms across her chest.

Michael leaned back and put his hands over his face. "I don't know," he said to the ceiling. He had given it some thought after his mom left him alone in the rec room. He was in love with her, he knew that. He also knew that, legally and socially, it couldn't end in 'happily ever after'. Last night, he had only come up with one solution: break it off now. He appreciated his mother's creativity in thinking of it as a fling; a whirlwind romance kept secret from the world until they moved on with other partners. But his heart wanted more. "Ugh! Can't we just move to Kentucky or something, tell everyone we're married. We've already got the same last name!"

Behind his hands, he heard his mom chuckle. "Oh, Michael, I wish it were that easy, I truly do. But what would we tell your sister, your grandparents?" Then softer, "And what if you want to have kids someday?"

"We could adopt!" he said, dropping his hands and looking into his mother's eyes. She looked sad. He held his hand out to her. "I'm sorry, mom. I know you're right, but I wish you weren't."

She dabbed at her watery eyes with the back of her hand, "You haven't answered me. How do you see this going?"

Michael stood and held out both his hands. She paused, nervous about what was coming, then took his hands and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. His arms wrapped around her and pulled her into a firm but tender embrace. He held her tight until he felt her relax against his body, then he let his hands stroke her back. She matched his movements and lay a cheek on his shoulder, feeling truly content in the moment. Whatever his decision, she knew he loved her.

"Mom?"

"Hmmm?"

"I want to know you." He paused, then added, "In every sense of the word."

She lifted her cheek from his shoulder and leaned back, still in his arms. "Are you sure?"

He nodded, smiling.

She fell back against him and squeezed tight. "I was hoping that was what you would choose!" Then, tilting her head back, she said breathlessly, "Kiss me!"

A minute later they heard a truck pull into the driveway.

"If we are going to have a proper fling," he whispered between nibbles on her ear, "we are going to have to find a way to get dad out of the house."

She laughed and pulled away from his roving mouth, straightening her blouse and fluffing her hair hurriedly. "I have to start dinner. You... go look innocent somewhere," she said waving her arms at him.

After dinner and once his dad was safely ensconced in his recliner and watching TV, Michael began helping with the clean-up, finding excuses to be close to her as they went about the work: As she was rinsing dishes in the sink, he came up from behind, leaned against her gently and put his arms around her as he added to the pile. When she bent to get containers from a cabinet, he walked slowly by, trailing his fingers across her buttocks. After a half-dozen 'accidental' contacts, he dropped all pretense of helping, and, as she stood on her tiptoes to put a load of plates into the cupboard, he wrapped her in his arms and began kissing her shoulders and the back of her neck.

"That tickles!" she admonished him, pulling away from his kisses and turning to face him. She tried her stern face. "I'm trying to work here!"

"And I'm helping," he said trying his best to look wide-eyed and innocent while his hands betrayed him by roving over her ass. "You know, a spoonful of sugar and all that? I'm the sugar!"

"You," she replied sternly, "are artificial sweetener! You act all sweet, but you just want to get your hands on my butt!"

"It's not my fault!" he protested. "Look, when I put my hands here," he said, putting his hands on her sides, "my hands get drawn back here." His hands slid along her body and around to her buttocks. "It doesn't matter where I put them," he continued, demonstrating a few more times by placing his hands on her back, her stomach and her thighs, only to have them trace her contours and back to her ass. "It's like your ass is magnetic or something." He was speaking quietly now, inches from her face as his hands stroked and caressed her.

Her breathing was ragged, and her heart raced from the touch of his hands. He had been, to some degree, respectful as he had stroked her midriff and thighs by avoiding her most intimate areas. But now she ached for his touch. She wanted him to lift her breasts, pinch her painfully erect nipples, feel the dampness between her thighs. She kissed him urgently, pushing her body against his, one hand clasping his neck ensuring he couldn't break the kiss, the other wandering down his chest, along his hip and onto his thigh.

Michael had no intention of breaking the kiss and found the insistent hand on his neck sexy and exciting. And when he felt her fingernails raking his thigh, he tightened his grip on her ass and pulled her hard against his groin, rolling his hips slightly.

Ellen felt his manhood growing as he pressed into her tummy. She moaned into his mouth and snaked her hand between them, grasping him firmly through his jeans. Breaking the kiss herself, she pulled back far enough for him to see her lust-filled eyes. "I see what you mean about magnets," she said, rubbing the heel of her hand against his dick and then rejoining their lips.

It was Michael's turn to moan as he felt her hand travel slowly up and down the length of his rock-hard cock, pausing occasionally to cup and caress his balls. Emboldened by her touch, he let one hand roam from her ass and slowly up her torso. He was gentle and cautious, giving her time to deflect his hand if she wanted. Instead, she paused her stroking of his dick for the briefest of moments and yanked his hand fully onto her breast before plunging her hand between them again. He felt the weight of her breast in his palm, her nipple stiff and inviting. Twisting his hand, he caught her nipple between his thumb and forefinger while the rest of his hand lifted, caressed and squeezed her tit. He could feel the texture of her bra through the thin fabric of her blouse and had a sudden desire to rip open her shirt so he could see her breasts straining against the lacey cups. He thought of their Fall Day together, and the show she had given him at the end, and pinched her nipple harder.

She broke their kiss again, whimpering softly, trying to catch her breath but never slowing the stroking motion of her hand. He moaned again, quietly, close to her ear. "Oh, mom!" She shivered, amazed at just how turned on she was. Whether it was despite or because of the illicit nature of their actions, she wasn't sure. Either way, she knew she didn't want to stop until they were both satisfied. Unbidden, her husband sitting in his chair one floor below them came into her mind. She dreaded another interruption.

"Michael," she whispered.

"Hmmm?" he managed between moans.

"Follow me," she said, releasing his dick and taking his hand.

At this point, he would have followed her into a blast furnace, so he offered no resistance as she led him upstairs. She paused and kissed him when they got to his door. "Go get some sweats and a tee shirt on and meet me in my bedroom," she said giving his dick a playful squeeze, "And don't take too long."

In record time, he was standing at her door where she met him wearing her thick terrycloth robe and ushered him inside. He looked at her quizzically when she left the door open.

"We'll have a better chance of hearing your dad coming upstairs. Besides, it'll look suspicious if the door is shut and you're in here with me." Her logic impressed him, but it still made him nervous.

She lay down on the bed and motioned for him to join her. "I wish we had more time and privacy, but this is what we have." Then, looking determined and rolling on top of him she added, "And I'll be damned if I'm going to let you get away tonight without us both cumming."

Before exactly what she had said registered with Michael, she was kissing him hard, her tongue diving into his mouth, and her hand was rubbing his dick through his sweats. Then, as quickly as it started, she broke the kiss and sat up straight. Straddling one of his legs, she began rolling and sliding her hips, driving her pussy against his thigh in time with her groping hand. Her mouth opened and her eyes closed as she gave herself over to the sensation between her legs.

Michael was in awe of her beauty and raw sexuality.

"Grab me, Michael," she panted, "grab my ass."

Obediently he reached behind her.

"No, inside my robe," she said, briefly opening her eyes, smiling and looking unbelievably sultry.

His hand found the edge of her robe and slid up her leg until it found her satin clad ass and began kneading.

"These are the panties I was wearing the night you tucked me into bed," she taunted. "Do they feel as good as you thought they would?"

His middle finger began tracing the crevice between her cheeks. "Better," he breathed.

Her breathing became sharp and erratic as she rode his thigh and immersed herself in the sensation of his hand squeezing and exploring every curve of her ass.

"Did you notice I wasn't wearing a bra that night?" she breathed.

"Yes," he whispered.

"Do you think I'm wearing one now?" She was getting close.

"I don't know."

"Find out, sweetie! Put your hand in my robe and find out!" she gasped.

Michael's free hand pulled the top half of her robe open roughly, exposing one naked breast, then latched onto her nipple, pulling and twisting. His dick lurched beneath her hand as she leaned into him, burying her face in his neck as she moaned and writhed uncontrollably, grinding herself against him as she rode out her long and satiating orgasm. "Ooooh, Michael! Oh, don't stop touching me! Never stop touching me! Oh, god!"

Michael let his hand freely roam her shapely ass, committing it to memory, and doing what he could to assist his mother through her tumultuous orgasm. He even tested the limits of the permissions he had been given thus far and dipped his hand below her waistband, feeling the bare skin of her ass against his palm for the first time. Apparently, it was the right thing to do as she moaned appreciatively and rolled her hips harder against his thigh. Slowly, her moans became less frequent, and her hips moved with less urgency.

After a brief recovery, she lifted her weight off him, smiled in a loving and gratified manner and rolled until she was resting on one elbow, with one leg casually draped over his. Her robe had dropped open, exposing both her breasts, but she made no move to conceal them. Her free hand found its way along his thigh and onto his still throbbing dick.

"You know, I never used to get turned on by guys grabbing my ass," she said, stroking him slowly, "but something about the way you look at me, and my ass, makes me feel sexy."

"You are," he interjected.

"And I want you to touch my ass because I know it turns you on."

"It does."

"And when you're turned on, I get all hot and bothered," she whispered, leaning in to kiss him and rubbing her thumb over the head of his dick, eliciting a moan.

She kissed him a few more times, stroking him all the while, then she sat up and positioned herself next to his hips.

"You've seen quite a bit of me over the past week, but I haven't seen anything of you." She put her hands on his waistband and smiled at him. "May I?"

He nodded and raised his hips, giving her room to slide his sweats down. She took her time, seeming to marvel at every inch of bare skin she exposed. Then she looked him in the eye with a raised eyebrow and a broad grin. "No undies? Were you thinking you'd get lucky tonight?"

He blushed.

She continued pulling the sweats down, exposing more and more of his cock until at last the head appeared and his dick, finally released, flipped upwards, slapping loudly against his stomach. She laughed, then gently ran her fingernails across his scrotum and up his shaft, then, adjusting her hand, brought her thumb around to rub the head. "Oh, Michael, it's beautiful," she cooed.

He was in heaven as she explored every inch of his manhood with her soft hands. Just as he had memorized the shape and feel of her ass, she seemed to be doing the same with him: Lifting his shaft so she could see it from all angles, watching the skin stretch and pull as she stroked him, cupping his balls and running her fingers through his pubic hair. When she seemed satisfied that she had committed him to memory, she let go of him, leaning over him to reach the lotion on her nightstand, and letting him have a long look inside her robe as she did so.

"I'd love to touch you for hours, but we need to get down to business so we're not interrupted," she said kissing him.

She started slow, making sure she thoroughly coated his cock with lotion before increasing the tempo. She used both hands, stroking the shaft with one while the other rubbed circles over and around his cock head, or gently squeezed his balls. Michael had had a few handjobs, but none had been as skilled as this. And the fact that it was this wonderful, intoxicatingly erotic and beautiful woman that he loved with every ounce of his being that was stroking him only added to the sensation. His breathing hastened and his hips churned beneath her loving ministrations.

"Mom!" he warned.

She surprised him by letting go and falling onto the bed beside him, pulling the top half of her robe wide open. "Straddle me, sweetie!"

Michael sat up, and pulled his sweats off one leg so he could get his knees on either side of her, then straddled her stomach as she started her stroking motions again. He reached down and tenderly caressed her breasts, causing her nipples to darken and stand erect. He began to pull and twist the rigid tips, and she stroked him faster in response. She watched as his face began to contort with pleasure.

"It's okay! Cum for me, sweetie, cum on me!" she exhorted.

Michael ground his teeth together to stifle a yell as he came. He felt as if his entire body was melting and jetting across the room. For a long while, all he could do was grunt and pump his hips in a primal motion. Finally, too sensitive for her to touch any longer, he fell forward, catching himself with his hands before he crushed his mother under his spent body. "Oh, mom!" was all he could say.

As he recovered, he noticed the bed shaking beneath him. He looked down between his arms, first noticing his cock was slowly softening and still dripping cum which was puddling between his mother's breasts. Then he noticed that her chest was heaving with silent laughter. She was biting her knuckle to keep from waking the neighbors in her amusement. He watched bewildered until she was able to speak again.

"Oh, sweetie," she said, gasping for air, "It's been a while since I've been with a nineteen-year-old guy. I forgot what it could be like." Her laughter renewed as she shook her hands on either side of her face.

Michael noticed now that his cum coated her chin and nose and forehead. Streaks of it went through her hair and onto the pillows beyond. Her hands were dripping too, as were her tits and torso.

"Oh god, mom, I'm sorry!" He jumped from bed, pulled up his sweats and grabbed a hand towel from the bathroom. She was still laughing as he handed it to her, apologizing profusely.

"Oh, Michael, sweetie, it's okay!" she smiled, "I brought it on myself. Next time, though, I'm wearing goggles."

Michael watched her toweling herself off. She seemed to pay extra attention to her tits, making them jiggle in a pleasing way, and dragging the towel across her nipples. She saw him watching and smiled. "I'm glad you like them. I was worried they might be too saggy compared to the girls you've dated."

He looked her in the eye, then kissed her. "Mom, none of them can hold a candle to you," he said sincerely.

She returned his kiss and they soon found themselves wrapped together, passionately caressing, kissing, nibbling and nipping. She felt his manhood rising against her thigh and broke the kiss to look down. "Already?" Her hand found his cock and squeezed it. "This is going to be fun!" she said grinning at him.

She glanced at the clock on the nightstand.

"I think we've pushed our luck for tonight, though," she sighed. "I need to take a quick shower and change the pillowcases. And you, mister, need to go to your own room."