Freudian Slip

"Have we got everything?" I yelled out as I closed the trunk of my mom's Jaguar.

"I think so." Mom responded, hurrying out of the house and locking the front door.

We were just about to leave for a weekend family get-away to our cabin in the woods. I've always loved going up there, to that cabin, especially as a kid. I'd get to run all through the forest, climb trees, go fishing, and so on. And I still like doing all that same stuff now, too. Even though I'm 23, our annual weekend trips to the cabin remain a cherished pastime.

"Hello?" Mom said, answering her cell phone, right as she reached out for the passenger side door handle.

"Alright... Okay... Yes... Yes... I understand... Bye."

She pressed the hang up button pretty hard and looked up at me with a frustrated look.

"Your father won't be joining us. Says he has to spend another week in Arizona, working on that project."

It actually didn't come as much of a shock to me that dad wouldn't be accompanying us. Things had been rocky between him and mom recently. I hadn't even seen him in months, though that's not unusual, since he's always away on business, but I've heard the two of them having lots of shouting matches on the phone lately, more so than usual, and when they do actually talk, the tone between them is far from warm and fuzzy.

Although my mom seemed upset by dad not coming with us at first, the second she got in the car, she perked up.

"Well, I'm glad we'll be spending time together. I've really missed you since you moved out." She said smilingly.

With the rough economy, it took almost a year after I finished college for me to find permanent, decent paying employment. My parents, my mom namely, were very cool about letting me stay at home for a while, save up some money, and look for jobs. Although I was pleased in many regards to have found work and a place of my own, I have to say that I've missed her a lot, too, since I moved out.

I smiled back at mom and was secretly rather happy that dad would be absent, spending some alone time with her was alright with me. You see, I've had a crush on my mom for quite a while. Yes, I know, that's not something a normal person should have, a crush on his or her mom. But I can't help it. Honestly, she's probably the most amazing woman I've ever known. I've had feelings for her since I was 12 or so, right around the time when I first started to be interested in the opposite sex. And recently, things have been, you could say, different between us. There's been a sexual tension that never really existed before...

Pulling out of the driveway, shifting gears, my hand brushed up against my mom's shapely thigh, which was partially draped by her dark greenish sundress. Just brushing up against her smooth skin sent tingles through my body. Instead of jerking her leg away, though, like I thought she might, she reached over and gently rubbed my arm.

"So, you think you can handle two whole days with your old mom, all alone in the wilderness?" She said with a chuckle.

"Of course! I've survived much worse." I joked. She delivered me a soft punch in the arm for that quip.

"Besides, you're not that old, and I love hanging with you. You know that."

She leaned over and planted a peck on my stubbly cheek, then sat back and reclined in her seat. Her soft lips on my cheek felt rather nice.

Altogether, I was feeling pretty good at this point, I must say. Here I was cruising down the highway in my mom's Jaguar, which she only recently let me drive, with her riding shotgun, about to spend the weekend alone with her. Plus, there was a full case of wine in the trunk. Life wasn't too bad.

The closer we came to the cabin, the more my mind ran wild with the possibilities of what might occur once we got there. Okay, so like I said, there's been serious sexual tension recently between us, and I've got a major crush on my mom. Which, again, like I said is weird, but if you saw her you'd understand. She's a knockout. Seriously, seriously, a knockout.

A total fitness freak, she does aerobics four to five times a week, eats healthy, the whole lot. About 5-8, her figure is tight and slightly voluptuous, all the jiggles in the right places, if you know what I mean. Of Irish decent, she has emerald eyes and flaming red, wavy hair and her skin is creamy but not too pale, and softer than the softest silk I've ever touched. And the way she walks, too, wow. It's one of those super feminine walks that just drives a stake through your heart. Damn, is it something sexy...

And it's not just her physical charms, either, that make her so hot. She knows how to present herself too. She always dresses stylishly but not slutty, in jean-skirts, miniskirts, black tights, and hip-hugging stretch pants that accent her curves perfectly. And since she had me at 18, she's young at only 41, and she looks about five to ten years younger than that due to her intense fitness regimen. Oftentimes in public people will think she's my sister or girlfriend. Basically, to sum it up, she's a total babe. Easily a 10.

But what gets me more than her looks is her personality. She's easy-going, has a great sense of humor, and seems to always know the right thing to say and the right time to say it. Not only that, but she's smart. She's well-read and has worked as a newspaper editor for years and can go on about almost any subject at length. I don't think there's a single topic that she doesn't know at least something about. We'll often engage in hours of stimulating, intellectual discussion. Mind, body, and soul, truly, she's got it all. She's just an incredible woman in every way possible, the complete package.

So, yeah, my feelings for her go back a long ways. Really, it has been that ever since I became interested in girls, I've been interested in her. As a pubescent kid newly discovering the opposite sex, it didn't take me long to realize how hot my mom is and to start thinking and looking at her differently. Around the house she often wore (and still wears) only a long t-shirt, and growing up I had several glimpses of her aerobicized legs and numerous views of her panties when she bent over to pick something up, or as she crossed her legs. I peeked in on her a lot, too, through her bedroom door that she'd occasionally leave slightly open, while she dressed or got out of the shower.

She was actually the first naked woman I can ever remember seeing. And not a bad one at that. Her perky breasts and heart-shaped, well-sized rear entered into my mind many, many times as a horny teenager and still do now. And, of course, although I always felt (and still feel) guilty about it afterwards, I've masturbated to the thought of sex with her countless times, more so than any other woman. I'd never really thought about things going any farther than fantasy, however.

But recently, things have gotten a bit different between us. Being an only child, I was somewhat of a mama's boy, and she was very traditionally maternal towards me. But after I came back home from college, our relationship changed. I'd grown up quite a lot since I'd left home, both intellectually and physically. I was now a mature, well-built young man. The weight lifting I'd gotten into from my PE classes had me much more fit than I was as a teen, when I was all scrawny. And I think mom definitely noticed, too, because she started acting strangely around me, talking differently to me, and looking differently at me. We even started kind of dating, actually.

With my dad away all the time for work, and me out of work, doing odd part-time jobs, etc, I was home a lot, and so mom and I began eating dinner together almost every night, taking turns cooking. Being each other's most frequent company, we started to spend much more time together, going out to movies, art galleries, taking long walks around the neighborhood and park. Since I was broke and having no luck with the ladies at this point, she was really the only female I was around, and it's almost like we were dating, and she was my girlfriend, sort of, and like I was her boyfriend. At least I liked to think so. Whatever it was going on with us, I definitely enjoyed the time I was spending with her, and my romantic feelings and sexual cravings for her grew immensely.

Though things between us have been strictly platonic, we definitely have become more physically affectionate of late; hugging much more than we ever did before. And full body hugs, too, close, tight, and long lasting. We've also given each other many more kisses on the cheek than I can remember; doing it practically every time we see each other.

But probably what I've enjoyed most recently is watching TV or movies with her at home and snuggling up with her on the couch. I can't recall exactly how this ritual began, but I've really enjoyed it. It usually starts with me sitting on the couch watching TV and her joining me, crawling up next to me, and snuggling with me, usually with her lying on my chest and a blanket pulled over us. While she lies there with me, I'll run my fingers through her hair, which is just so incredibly soft, or rest my hand on her arm or stomach. I've popped a few boners during these snuggling sessions, but fortunately she's never noticed, or at least I didn't notice her noticing.

We also seem to be generally flirty towards each other, making frequent comments about "looking good" and so on and there's just something in the air between us, like a tension. It was really starting to get to a boiling point right before I moved out. The night before I left the house, we went out on what could be construed as an actual date.

To celebrate my securing employment and a new apartment, we went out to a classy restaurant/lounge, had a few drinks, even slowed danced. It was a truly spectacular night. At the end of the evening, as we were saying goodnight, there was that awkward date-type moment where the man is expected to go in for a kiss. I thought of doing it, going in for a real kiss with her, a French kiss, but I punked out and only pecked her on the cheek. And amazingly, I could have sworn she seemed disappointed that she only got a peck and that I didn't go further.

After that "date," I was so worked up and into her that I was actually thinking of coming clean, telling her how I feel, or even trying to "put the moves on her" at another juncture but I could never work up the nerve. She is, after all, my mom. And what if she freaked out or said no? It could ruin our relationship, our friendship, and neither of those are things I wished to jeopardize.

Upon moving out, I figured things would slow down, that the thoughts would dissipate, but they haven't. It's been two weeks and I still think of her all the time. And now, here we were, about to spend the weekend alone together. And what's going to happen? What's going to happen if we actually took it to the next level and did something? What would she do if I tried? Flirting, however abnormal, was innocent fun. But letting me do anything sexual with her? Would she? I just couldn't logically see it happening. Not too many women out there would do anything like that with their sons. I wasn't sure I could even work up the nerve to try it, either. But damn, did I want to...

When we arrived at the cabin my mind was on overdrive. Mom had been quiet the entire way up there, hardly saying a word but smiling a lot. I wondered to myself what she was thinking about.

"The old place always looks the same, doesn't it?" I said, pulling up in the gravel driveway. I was really just trying to make conversation.

"Sure does. But that's what I like about it, the familiarity." She replied, gathering up her belongings from the car.

I cut off the engine, got out, and grabbed our bags from out of the trunk and brought them into the cabin. The place really does look the same, I thought to myself. The bear skin rug my grandpa bought, the hearth oven, the dusty fireplace, dusty smell, tacky oil paintings from the 1940s... Ah... I totally love this place.

It's an easy place to love too. It's tiny but cozy, with only two modestly sized bedrooms, a main room with a little but full, recently renovated kitchen on the side, and two claustrophobically small bathrooms, each with only an ancient shower, basin style sink, and old toilet with a long pull string to flush with. After nostalgically gazing around for a second, I went back outside to get the wine from the car.

"Hey, do you want the pasta tonight or do you want me to make that chicken stew?" Mom yelled out as she stuffed the fridge with food.

"Let's have the pasta. It'll go well with this wine." I said, coming back into the cabin. I then set the case of merlot down on the kitchen floor and Mom looked down at it and nodded approvingly.

After unpacking, we spent the afternoon walking around the woods, enjoying the autumnal colors, and just hanging out. For about an hour or so, right as dusk approached, we sat on a wooden bench by the duck pond in the backyard of our cabin, cuddling and talking.

"Look at those ducks over there... They seem to be having a good time." I mentioned, alluding to a pair of ducks that appeared to be both fighting and trying to mate.

"I'm having a good time, too." Mom replied softly, shining that beautiful smile of hers my way and looking me deeply in the eyes.

The look she gave me really got to me. Just the way she spoke to me, too, it sounded so different from the way she used to talk to me when I was a kid. Gazing back into her green eyes as they gleamed in the sunset, seeing her hair blowing around in the cool breeze, I couldn't help myself anymore, and I did something I couldn't believe I'd ever do.

I lowered my face to hers and kissed her, lightly, right on her delicate, red lips. It wasn't a quick peck, either. It probably lasted for a second or two, though it felt like longer. I didn't slip any tongue in, but still, kissing her like that was farther than I'd ever gone.

After I pulled back, I felt a bit embarrassed by what I'd done. And ashamed. I suddenly worried she'd flip out or push me away, but instead, she smiled coyly at me, and went back to resting her head on my chest. We sat in an awkward silence for a few minutes before she got up.

"I'm going to start making dinner now. I'm starving." She said, reaching her hand out to me.

"Sounds good. I'm quite hungry myself. All this walking and duck watching has worked up my appetite." I replied, taking her hand into mine, and letting her pull me up off the bench. I held onto her, too, and we walked back to the cabin holding hands.

When we got back inside, mom disappeared into her room to change and came back out a few minutes later wearing a pair of black stretch pants and a low cut red blouse that showed ample cleavage. She also had put on some sort of vanilla perfume that was intoxicating. She was looking and smelling awfully hot as she started to whisk around the kitchen, cutting, dicing, boiling, and stirring. I couldn't help but take several glances at her heart-shaped ass every time she bent over to get something out of the fridge or look down her shirt while she stirred the pasta sauce. She really did look hot.

"Do you need any help cooking?" I asked.

"Do I look like I need help?" She shot back, with a sly grin. "You just pop a bottle of wine and set the table. Dinner should be ready in a few minutes."

Probably pushing my luck, since she always hated me coming into the kitchen when she was cooking, I went in there, walked up behind her, pressed up to her, and wrapped my arms around her stomach. I put my chin down on the top of her left shoulder, by her neck, and planted a juicy kiss on her cheek, sort of like the ones we'd been giving each other a lot recently, but slightly longer lasting and wetter.

"Smells delicious in here." I whispered into her ear.

She blushed, her cheeks got all red, and she giggled and didn't say anything. I purposely grinded up against her body, namely my crotch into her ass, as I hugged her, and I could feel the soft firmness and warmth of her buttcheeks and ass crack against my genitals. This was starting to give me an erection so I pulled away and sat down at the table for a second to cool down. I started feeling guilty again, too. What the fuck was I doing playing around with my mom like this? This really was going a lot farther than ever before.

"You just be patient, young man..." Mom said, avoiding eye contact with me, her voice cracking.

It took a couple minutes of thinking about Susan Boyle and Rosie O'Donnell to kill my boner, but as soon as it softened, I set the table and we sat down to eat. The pasta she'd whipped up was delectable, and she'd made some sort of mushroom sauce that was out of this world. During dinner, we both helped ourselves to plenty of wine and talked about a wide array of subjects.

Not that she didn't look gorgeous before, but after four or five glasses of wine, mom couldn't have looked any better. The wine really loosened me up too. The feelings of guilt and shame I'd had about all the thoughts and flirting began to go away, and it felt like I was merely having a lovely dinner with a superhot mature women. The candles I'd lit and the dim lighting made the atmosphere that much more pleasant. And romantic.

"That's it for me. I don't think I can handle dessert."

"Yeah, you made quite a large bowl of pasta there, mom."

"Well, I was under the impression I'd be cooking for three."

"I think it's better like this anyway. Dad never seemed to do much on these trips other than gulp down brewskis and watch TV. I've always liked coming up here, though."

Mom sighed and got up without saying anything. Then she picked up her plate, walked into the kitchen, set her plate down in the sink, and stood facing the window, with her arms crossed.

I walked up next to her and put my arm around her shoulder.

"Things haven't been good between your father and I... For a long, long time..." She said, with a heavy sadness in her tone.

"I know... But let's not think about that now, mom. Why don't we crack open that bottle of cognac and make a fire? It's gotten chilly in here."

"It has, but I think I'd rather watch a movie, in my room... You should... Come in there with me. I don't want to be alone right now. You can sleep with me tonight if you want, too. It seems like it's been forever since I slept with anyone."

Maybe it was a Freudian slip what she said. Maybe not. I don't know, but hearing her ask me to sleep with her left me speechless, and I couldn't even muster a reply.

"Don't get any funny ideas, young man!" She nervously laughed and slapped me lightly on the chest. "I know it's strange, but I'm just tired of being in bed by myself every night and want some company, someone to cuddle with and hold, like we do on the sofa. I like doing that. But don't you dare tell your father or anyone about any of this!"

"No, I... Like it too. A lot. I think... That'd be cool. I'd love to sleep with you, mom." I jokingly blurted out, breaking up the awkwardness. My cheeky response earned me another chest slap.

"Okay, I'm going to get ready for bed. You clear off the table and then do the same. And meet me in my room. With that bottle of cognac..."

"Okay, mom." I said, obeying her commands. I gave her a light pat on the lower back, picked up the dishes, and went back to my room to change for bed.

As I brushed my teeth and flossed, I felt both excited and bummed out. It was cool I'd be getting a chance to "sleep" with her and cuddle, for a whole night, but she'd also made it clear not to expect anything. Not like I should expect anything sexual, from my mom of all people, but still, it had seemed like all the flirting was leading up to something, and here we were, alone in the woods, half-drunk, under-sexed, together, about to sleep in the same bed, and we're not going to do anything? I don't know. The whole situation was just so confusing. But all and all I figured cuddling up with a woman as beautiful as my mom for the night probably wouldn't be too bad, even if it didn't go further.