tagIncest/TabooYes Ma'am.

Yes Ma'am.

byAlice_Rosaleen©

Dear Reader, This story is my Valentine's Day gift. If it pleases you, I ask for your vote in return. Many thanks to SecondSamuel for making me go all the way. ~Alice Rosaleen

*This is a work of fiction. All characters are 18 or older.


***

No matter how many men Josslyn Atwater had been with, none had ever made love to her the way her husband Michael could. That wasn't to say none of them had bigger cocks or made her cum harder, but none of them expressed their love so well with their body and still had so much in their hearts. And Joss could feel hers spilling over with Michael inside of her. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and matched his thrusts, gripped his hands, met his lips, until they came.

"Oh, Michael," she moaned, still shuddering.

A moment later he was holding his wife from behind, her back pressed to his chest, which was coarse with hair and slick with sweat. "I love you, Joss."

Josslyn went to take her husband's hand and press it to her breast, but she couldn't find it. Not again... Even before she rolled over, Michael's firm body was becoming insubstantial, his scent disappearing, his warmth fading away. Joss put her hand out and touched cold sheets. He was gone. It was just another dream.

Wiping away her tears, Josslyn started to see an indistinct silhouette in her bedroom doorway. A man's.

"Michael? Is that you?" Her throat was so dry, she barely made a sound.

The shadowy form stepped forward and solidified into one she recognized. "No, Mom, it's me."

"Nicky- I'm sorry, I wasn't-"

"It's okay," her son interrupted, taking a few steps closer. "You were dreaming about Dad, weren't you? I heard you calling his name."

Joss was glad it was dark so he couldn't see how red her cheeks had gotten. She wondered if that was all he'd heard her say. It wasn't the first time this sort of thing had happened, but it was the first time since she'd stopped binge drinking to ease the pain.

"I was. He seems so real sometimes that it's not fair."

Nick took another step. "I know. I miss him too."

Remembering that she'd fallen asleep in the nude, Josslyn pulled the sheet up before it slipped below her stiff nipples. The air seemed to crackle between them, though she was sure it was just her sex-deprived imagination.

"You should get back to bed, honey. You need your rest."

"Yes Ma'am." Her son had said this countless times, but there was something about his tone now that made Joss quake.

"Good night, Nicky," she said, rolling over, eyes wide open.

"Good night, Mom."

And after what seemed like an eternity, his footsteps retreated down the hallway.

It had been a year and a half since Michael passed away and even though he wasn't Nick's father by blood, he was by choice- and that almost made their bond more painful to sever. Joss had spent the first year and then some drowning her sorrows in alcohol. It was a selfish and ultimately self-defeating coping mechanism, which is why she'd been sweating out her sorrows at the gym for the last few months instead. She hoped that as she got herself in better shape physically, she could get healthier on a deeper level.

For her son's sake as much as her own.

***

Josslyn was no stranger to heartache. She'd loved and lost countless times, been cheated on and cheated with, seduced, abused, strung-along and abandoned. But when Joss was in her late-twenties, raising a kid on her own because his scumbag father had left them high and dry, she met a man named Michael Atwater who showed her that hearts aren't just made to be broken. Not only did Michael want to take care of her, he wanted to be there for her son Nick too- show him what it was like to have a real dad.

After several months of intense courtship, he proposed, she accepted, and the three of them became The Atwaters. There would be no more violent boyfriends or crappy apartments with Michael in their lives. Nick was even calling him "Dad" before the adoption was finalized. It was everything Josslyn could have hoped for and more.

And then, when he was only forty-four, the unthinkable happened. On his way home from work, Michael was killed by a drunk driver- died before the ambulance even got to the scene. Both Josslyn and Nick were devastated. Furious, even, that he'd been taken from them so soon. He was the only father her son had ever known, and the only man who'd made her feel like a Queen. Just considering the prospect of inviting someone new into their lives made her feel like she was trying to replace him.

After a lot of bad, sloppy sex, and some really good sex but a bad, sloppy breakup, Joss decided she'd be better off alone than settling for less. It had been several months since she'd had a date (or sex) and many of her friends and family had started to notice. "You're only thirty-seven, Joss. Your life isn't over. Don't give up on love," these well-meaning interlopers would say. But Josslyn was beginning to think it wasn't she who had given up on love, but love that had given up on her.

***

Joss arrived at the office the next morning in a gray pencil skirt and a sapphire blue blouse that set off her eyes. Now that she'd been working out, her hourglass figure had gotten slimmer in the middle, making the surrounding curves even more apparent. When she was in the break room, Raymond, who got especially chatty whenever she showed a little leg, asked what Joss' big Valentine's Day plans were.

"Oh, we're going to see Hamilton, followed by dinner at Il Mulino and dancing til mIdnight. The yooszh." she deadpanned, using the abbreviation for 'usual' that her son used so often. She'd meant this for Raymond's amusement (and as a gentle rebuff) but resident gossips Mary and Christina had walked in.

"Sounds romantic, Josslyn." Mary's voice was oozing with sarcasm. "Who's taking you on this exciting adventure?"

Joss fought the urge to say "Your husband." But she didn't have to say anything because someone else replied.

"A lucky guy, whoever he is." It was shy, bookish Eric.

"Thank you, Eric." There was a hint of guilt in her voice, since Eric never said much and he'd invited her out for coffee before. He was attractive in his well-groomed, soft-spoken, thick-glasses kind of way, but Joss had learned her lesson about mixing business with pleasure. Several times.

The truth was, Joss didn't have a date for Valentine's Day and doubted that she'd get one in the next couple of weeks. Her regrettable foray in online-dating and several singles' mixers had been way too discouraging for an encore. Not that Joss expected flowers and love poems, but there had to be something slightly more romantic than dick pics and bad come-on lines. Flirty messages, dirty phone calls and one-night stands were fun, but ultimately she found them tedious and hollow.

Why had it seemed so easy to hook up and fall in love when she was younger? Was it because men seem more manly back then? Not in that macho way, like guys overcompensating for something else, but in that inexplicable way handymen or lumberjacks or good fathers have about them because they don't need to? The last so-called paragon of the male species she'd dated was Chase Richards, and he ended up being the reason she took up celibacy.

The first time they met was just as indelible in her mind as the last time she saw him: Josslyn was having a mind-numbing conversation with a guy ten years her junior at a nightclub, trying to get drunk enough to go home with him, when a stunning silver fox interrupted.

"Excuse me, but if you're not going to ask this gorgeous lady to dance, I certainly will."

Chase had such skill on the dancefloor that Joss was sure he'd be phenomenal in the sack; and he more than exceeded expectations. In a sea of players and posers, he was the real McCoy, like her husband had been. Not that the two of them were particularly similar, but there were times when Chase would say something or look at her in a certain way that reminded her so much of Michael that she wanted to cry. When Chase's hands were on her, and cock inside her, Joss often would.

But there were also those times when he reminded her of Nick's biological father, Drew. He could be aggressive and domineering in a way that pushed all the right buttons. Making love with him was spectacular, but getting fucked by him was transcendent. When Chase took control, he meant it, and he always made it worth the pain that laced the pleasure.

For all these reasons- his charm, her loneliness, the crazy sex- Joss ignored every red flag he waved: the late nights at work, the scent of perfume she never wore, getting texts at odd hours and vague talk of "being busy" over the weekend. No, Josslyn had to see it to believe it. And of course she'd be in a public place when it happened, so her total humiliation could be witnessed by strangers.

She was out drinking with a group of friends when one of them leaned over and whispered, "That isn't Chase over there, is it?"

"No, he's home sick," Joss replied, even as her stomach started sinking.

"Well if that's not him, he must have a twin," her friend Samantha muttered.

Steeling herself with another double-shot of tequila, Josslyn got up and strode across the crowded room and low and behold, there was Chase with a girl at least half his age. His hand was on her knee and he was leaning in to say something with that familiar sly look on his face. When he saw Josslyn standing there, her arms crossed, he didn't even have the decency to act ashamed.

"I'm glad to see you're feeling better, Chase."

"Josslyn," he drawled, appearing vaguely amused at her presence.

His blonde date smirked, giving the older woman a withering look.

"You cheating bastard! How long have you been fucking her? Is she even twenty-one yet?"

"Please, let's not make a scene," he said with infuriating calmness, as if Josslyn was a defiant child.

"Oh, I'm not making a scene. I just wanted to know if you have anything to say for yourself before I never speak to you again."

Chase leveled her with his cold grey eyes before he even said a word. "It's kind of hard to cheat on a woman who's still married to her dead husband."

Joss could hardly see through her tears as she stumbled out of the club, not bothering to apologize to all the people she bumped into on her way. It felt like there was a knife twisting in her heart, courtesy of Chase, and of Drew, and most of all, Michael.

"Are you okay, ma'am?" the bouncer asked when a very tipsy Josslyn slumped down on the sidewalk, flashing him in the process.

"Not really. I think I'm cursed to spend the rest of my life alone and loveless."

The bouncer didn't know how to respond to this, so he just offered to call a taxi if she needed one.

"Thanks. You're very sweet. Do you have a girlfriend?"

Joss was trying to make a joke, but he backed away uneasily.

That must be some kind of superpower, making a bouncer feel awkward.

Ignoring the messages from her friends, who were probably talking about her in hushed, catty tones at that very moment, Joss texted her son to see if there was any way he could pick her up from a bar.

Ever to her rescue, Nick replied, Yes Ma'am, only seconds later.

Having nothing better to do while she waited, Josslyn proceeded to send a long, passive-aggressive text to Chase. It ended on a mature note- that she hoped he caught an STD with his tramp. The little satisfaction this gave was short-lived, though, for who should stroll out moments later with not one piece of arm candy but two, but a very smug looking Chase Richards, Esquire.

The blonde, whom Joss had the pleasure of meeting already, leaned over and murmured something to her new companion. The two of them glanced at the hot mess on the sidewalk with raccoon eyes and frizzy hair and cackled. Smiling indulgently at his pets, Chase walked on by without acknowledging her presence.

This, of course, enraged Joss more than if he'd spit on her. She found the energy not only to get to her feet again, but to yell insults long after he was out of sight. She got so belligerent that the bouncer was past the point of calling a taxi and near the one of calling the cops. Minutes later, Nick pulled up in his black Impala and got out to help his mother looking more worried about her than ever. It was a sobering moment for both of them.

Since then, Josslyn had stopped going out to bars and hadn't even dipped her toes in the dating pool. Love, passion, fidelity, trust- they were like elusive creatures she couldn't track down after a lifetime in the woods. So why bother putting herself out there anymore, just to settle for their less noble cousins- lust, flattery, charm, and deception.

With Valentine's Day approaching, many of her friends and coworkers had resumed their attempts to set up sad, lonely Josslyn. But she'd refused every offer to set her up with a man she assumed was as pathetic as she was. And Eric wasn't the only handsome colleague she'd turned down because she'd only mess it up and the last thing she needed was more rumors around the office about the widow who can't keep a boyfriend.

Instead, she made a date with her Netflix queue, a bottle of wine, and her Rabbit vibrator. None of them could love her, but none of them could break her heart either. And at this point, Josslyn had begun to think that was the most she could wish for.

***

Joss was sprawled out on the sofa watching television when her son got home that night. "Hi, Nicky," she called out, hearing him bustle around in the kitchen: The fridge opening, the clank of bottles, pop, pop, Nick's steady footsteps. Now that he was twenty-one, the house was always stocked with more alcohol than food. The temptation was constant.

"Hey, Mom," he said, plopping down next to Joss as she sat up, curling her legs up to one side and covering them with a blanket. She took the beer he'd offered and they both took a long draught.

Nick reminded her a great deal of his father, no matter how hard Joss tried to deny it. They were both tall with a muscular build, coarse olive skin, thick raven hair, rich brown eyes and striking features. But where Drew had always been hard and tense, his son had an ease that he'd acquired from being raised by Michael. His lips were more accustomed to smiling than scowling, eyes wide to the world instead of narrowed with hate, hands that used their strength to hold, not hit. There were some expressions Nick had that he seemed to have inherited, but he did not wear them often.

Tonight, though, his brow was furrowed in a way that made Joss concerned.

"How was your day, sweetheart?"

"Long," was his brief reply as he started channel surfing.

"Anything interesting happen?" she ventured, watching him take another long swig of beer. There was something about seeing Nick's head tilted back, Adam's Apple bobbing while he swallowed, that made Joss tremble.

"Not really. I think I blew a Chemistry exam, I'm not even halfway through an essay due the day after tomorrow and April broke up with me. Pretty normal day."

"April broke up with you?" Nick had been dating April for almost a year now and Joss was sure they were in love. "What happened?"

"Nothing but the same old fucking fight- Sorry."

"It's okay hon. What fight?"

Nick sighed, picking at the label on his bottle. "The one about why I don't want to move in with her."

"Oh? She's asked you to move in with her before?" It was the first he'd mentioned this to Joss, and they were fairly open about things. At least, she'd thought they were.

"Yeah, a couple of times. But I'm not ready for that."

"It is a big step," Joss agreed. "But if you're in love..."

"I do love April, but not when she's pressuring me to do things her way. Besides, I don't love her as much as I love you, Mom, and I can't just abandon you to move in with some chick."

Joss coughed on her sip of beer. "Abandon me? Honey, I don't want you to feel like you have to take care of me."

"I know I don't have to. I want to. I made a promise to Dad that I would take care of you if anything ever happened to him."

"Michael wouldn't want you to sacrifice your happiness to keep that promise, Nick. You have to know that." Joss wrapped her arm around her son and rested her head on his shoulder. He was a man now, the man of the house, and she had to be willing to let him lead his own life, even if she wanted to hold onto him forever.

"I do, Mom. But being here for you does make me happy. I guess it makes me a Momma's Boy, but there's not another woman in my life right now that I want to live with. Period."

"Aw, sweetheart, I love you so much. There's not another man in my life right now that makes me feel as happy as you do, Nicky."

As she said this, running her hand over his firm chest as she had a thousand times, a feeling rose in her core- tingly and warm and taut and luscious.

And it only grew stronger when Nick turned and kissed her on the cheek, his fingers sliding up under the sleeve of her blouse. The simple gesture of affection that used to make her heart content when he was a boy now made her tummy flutter.

"I love you, Mom."

Joss found herself dozing off with Nick's arm wrapped around her. Memories of her late-husband holding her like this came to mind unbidden. As did what she liked to do if they were alone- pull out his cock. And then she'd suck him off, sometimes falling to her knees so he could play with her tits, sometimes bending over his lap so he could finger her pussy.

Suck my cock, baby girl, Michael would groan.

Yes Sir, she would lift off to say back.

"What was that, Mom?" Nick mumbled, rousing her from her fantasy.

Joss glanced down and saw that her hand had migrated dangerously low. She hoped it was just a trick of the flickering television that made it look like her son's bulge was throbbing against the seam of his pants, only inches away.

"I think it's past my bedtime."

"Do you want me to carry you to bed?"

"I don't want to throw your back out," Joss said lightly, slipping out from beneath his arm. "But thanks, Nicky. Don't stay up too late, okay?"

"Yes Ma'am."

She knew Nick was just trying to be sweet, but it recalled to her the many shameful incidents when she got so drunk that her son had to carry her to bed. After her husband died, Joss started coming home almost every night reeking of alcohol; and Nick, who was nineteen at the time, started waiting up to make sure his mother didn't injure any more than her pride. More than once there was cum stuck in her hair or dried on her face or crusted to her thighs.

Josslyn couldn't say whether it was the booze or the grief or the feelings she'd buried deep inside, but there were times when Nick helped her upstairs- sometimes supporting her weight, other times carrying her in his arms- that the part of herself that was his mother shut off and the part of herself that was a woman switched on. And even though her son wouldn't say anything, Joss could feel his body respond to her roaming hands and slurred dirty talk: his muscles strained, jaw ticked, breath got shallow, his blood pumped harder and faster and lower.

"You're such a strong man now Nicky," she'd tell him solicitously, running her fingers through his silky black locks. "Just like your Daddy."

Some nights "Daddy" meant Michael: her late husband's face would appear over her son's like a mask made of shadows and memory. Joss would tell him how much she wanted to make love with him one last time. But other nights "Daddy" mean Drew, and it was much easier for his features to replace his son's until they were indistinguishable. And then Joss would whisper far nastier things in his ear.

"Remember when we used to fuck in the backseat of your car? And the windows would get all fogged up because we were going at it for so long? Your cock is still the biggest cock I've ever seen..."

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byAlice_Rosaleen© 23 comments/ 111036 views/ 175 favorites

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