In His Shoes

In my quest to delve into other genres this year, this is my first foray into the I&T genre - I'm more commonly found down in the land of Loving Wives. I can relate to LW for various reasons, I&T, not so much. As a teen, I had a crush on an aunt - tall, blonde, extremely attractive but that's all it ever was. Bizarrely, my wife's sister lived in the street where I grew up, and used to watch her as a MILF walk past our house, filled with typical lustful thoughts of a teenage boy. It wasn't until later that when I started to date my now wife, I found out they were related. That's probably it as for as my own I&T experience goes.

I need to sing the praises of 29wordsforsnow for offering to edit this one up for me. There were definitely a couple places where I became stuck, and they ironed those out nicely. Thank you. Reading thru' before hitting the publish, I've made a few very minor changes, any cock-ups will be mine! This is fictional, all characters involved in anything described sexually are over eighteen.

I like to look at emotions, the whats & whys, what makes people do what they do. I've tried to inject some of that into this piece of unfamiliar territory I've entered. So, welcome to -

In His Shoes

Dying. When you reach that age in your life to consider that dying is, in fact, a part of life itself, it makes you think how you'll end up saying goodbye to your loved ones. Too many films and other media show a fond farewell, last words of love and caring between people sat together before the peaceful departure. Reality's typically fucking cruel and harsh.

I found that out when the college principal walked into my class, spoke to the lecturer who nodded after a few words were shared, then made a subtle gesture of the hand for me to follow her. When I reached her, she spoke in a soft voice.

"James, I'm sorry, gather your stuff you need to come with me."

Once in the corridor, I asked.

"Have I done something wrong?"

We stopped and she turned to me, reaching out to hold my hand and squeeze it. The look spoke of sorrow, trying to contain her own tears told me something was wrong and it directly affected me. When we reached her office, my uncle, aunt and cousin were sitting waiting. They were ashen-faced, my aunt, crying. As I entered, they stood, my uncle started to openly cry as his arms opened to engulf me, swiftly followed by my aunt and cousin. It was my aunt that pulled the curtains of life back revealing the hard truth.

"There was an accident, James. He felt nothing, he had no idea it was going to happen. Thery said he never suffered. We are so, so sorry."

My dad... he was gone. No long chat goodbye, no reminiscing over our beautiful family's past. His last words as he left the house to me was to not forget to take the rubbish down curb side for collection. You don't ever see that in the films.

۞۞۞۞

I don't really recollect any of the journey, but we were suddenly pulling into the hospital car park. My aunt seemed to know where to go and we entered a small room with a bland modern sofa and chairs, the walls painted a nondescript colour with a single framed print of a family walking down a beach all holding hands as they appeared to be kicking sand in the surf. That picture alone portrayed to me how my family was lost as the grief was about to overwhelm me. Until I looked at my mum. She was a broken woman, I could see the deep sense of loss in her eyes, her mouth, in fact her whole face. She ran into my arms, as we embraced each other tightly, her body shaking uncontrollably as her tears spilled onto my shoulder. Lifting my head, the despair we both felt rippled away from us as an invisible negative energy force, infecting those close by as my uncle and his family stood mere yards from us, huddled and cried together. I noticed the nurse in the room turn her head slightly, silently wiping away a tear as she looked at the broken people before her. I'd seen it start to fall, as I tried to focus on something to stop me breaking down like the others. It made me wonder if she had to go through this everyday. God, I hoped she didn't. In the end, it must surely crush the spirit of even the most hardy souls.

As it all calmed down another nurse came with an orderly, and explained that someone would need to formally identify my dad, which would set wheels in motion to allow things to proceed. After that, there would be an autopsy, and we would need to make arrangements for a funeral director to be ready to collect his body when it would be released, probably in two or three days. The nurse spoke, addressing my mum and uncle.

"We need a relative to identify the body. Because of the nature of the accident, we would recommend that you, Mr. Williams, do this on behalf of the family."

My uncle Glen looked shocked, my mum put her hand to her mouth, eyes wide, shaking her head. It clearly meant that he must be a real mess. I swallowed, and spoke up.

"I'm his son, James. I'm over eighteen, I'll do this, I want to lessen the pain for my family."

My mum, uncle and aunt tried to dissuade me, but it was obvious they really didn't want to do it. In the end, I accompanied the orderly who took me to an office, then we went with a mortuary attendant into a room to see a body covered with a sheet lying on a bed-cum trolley that you'd typically see in a hospital.

"Are you sure you're OK to do this?"

I looked at him and nodded, I could feel my heart pounding, my hands shaking as I tried to take big deep calming breaths as my dad had taught me to do when you faced a challenge. Maybe it wasn't him, there was a mix up, someone had stolen the car from his works. Carefully, the sheet was partially pulled back, to reveal a part of my dad's face, neck, shoulder and arm. He had a tattoo on his arm, it was done when he was my age, of a heart with an arrow through it with their initials. Above it, was a small stork carrying a basket with the initials JW - it was added just before I was born, as their new addition was going to be either James or Juliet. For some reason, right at this moment in time, it made me smile. I was glad they gave me the name James and not Juliet.

I nodded, acknowledging that this was the body of my dad and was taken back into the office and asked to sign some paperwork. As I read through signing the documents, the attendant slipped from the room for a few minutes. When I reached the last sheet, he stopped me, and handed me an envelope with the three rings my dad wore, his watch, phone and wallet. I confirmed they were his possessions; they were noted on the final sheet and I signed to indicate I had received them. Then I was led away, and back to my family for another round of tears and hugs.

We finally left the hospital, and made our way home in a cab. My mum sat in the back with me. Other than the redness around her eyes, she had managed to create a thin veneer of things being normal, despite what her inner self felt. She held my hand tightly, I didn't know what to say, so I sat looking out of the window noting everything as we passed it but really seeing nothing at all. Then, out of the blue, I felt soft lips on my cheek, a kiss unlike any other my mum had given me. It wasn't the usual peck on the cheek that I'd get as a greeting, it was longer, I could feel the moisture residue and... I felt embarrassed as my cock twitched. Moving her head back, she spoke softly, not a whisper, but close to my ear.

"I'm so proud of you, your dad would be proud of you. Stepping up to do that, you didn't have to, me and your uncle could have done it."

I turned and smiled at her, her hand came up to cup my chin, stroking it gently. If only she knew I'd involuntarily felt my cock twitch when she kissed me. I doubt she would be proud of that. She continued speaking.

"You are so much like him, and he would have been as selfless as you were back in the hospital. I can see him in you, and it hurts, but we will adapt. Your dad would want us to adapt, find our feet and move forwards. Promise me, we'll do that together."

I could not recollect ever being this close to my mum, through circumstances way beyond our control, we now faced this huge emotional battle together. Her luminescent green eyes speckled with fine lines of gold were hypnotic as she held my gaze. I don't know why, I guess my emotions were all over the show but I moved, and with my eyes open, looking into hers, I kissed her momentarily fully on the lips. It was a fleeting kiss, as I pulled back, I expected to be chastised, but I wasn't. Pulling further back, it was clear we both felt slight discomfort, if there was some way to clearly define an acceptable kiss between an adult son and his mother, we had somehow skirted close to it. I smiled and answered her question from a moment ago.

"I promise you mum, I'll be by your side as we pick up the pieces. I know dad would not want us to mope. How many times did he tell me to persevere at school, sports, work and college."

I put on a brave face; to show her I could be as strong as my dad when the chips were down. I let out a small laugh, a slight smile too as I spoke.

"I can hear his voice in my head right now telling me to stand straight, chin up, and face the world head on."

For the first time today, a small, but genuine, smile broke out on my mum's face. I knew we faced an uphill battle, that our lives had abruptly changed this morning and there would be plenty of pain to come. I promised myself there and then, I would do everything in my power to bring a smile and some happiness into my mum's life from this point onwards.

۞۞۞۞

The next two weeks were a whirlwind of activities, and visits that were completely alien to me: Solicitors, banks, hospitals, accountants, funeral directors and others. It felt like life had become a pinball machine, and we were the ball being kept in continuous play. My mum did her best to keep herself together, particularly in public. In private, it was a different matter, as we sorted through my dad's personal stuff, there were items that obviously meant things to them and nobody else. There were tears and plenty of consoling hugs.

Eventually, we started to tackle some of the more personal pieces of his life. Stuff in the garage like golf clubs, and eventually, the contents of his wardrobe. I could see this would be hard on her, it's right in the heart of what was their personal and private space. Starting after lunch, we planned to get it done that afternoon. We had run through most of his clothes, sorting them to go to various charities. There were a few designer items that we put aside in case my uncle wanted them; I even took a Hugo Boss shirt for myself. As it began to thin out, I took a hanger from the wardrobe, it was a suit bag. She took it from me, then sat on the bed as she removed the cover, held the suit up and sighed.

"Once we realised we enjoyed dancing after we took it up a couple of years back, your dad had this made for him when we were in Hong-Kong. It was expensive, but nothing like the crazy cost of having it made here."

She sat, and sniffed as she looked at it.

"Would you do something for me, James? Will you try it on for me?"

"I know it's expensive, mum, but it's not something I'd be seen dea..."

I stopped, as a tear fell from the corner of her eye.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, I didn't mean to say that. That was uncalled for, I didn't mean to ups..."

As I was speaking, she stood up, and kissed me on the lips. It wasn't long or drawn out, just a quick peck. Stepping back slightly she tried to smile.

"Honey, I know you'd never wear it. I'm not asking you to wear it for you, I'm asking to wear it for me, just this once. You are so alike, let me have one last vision of it, to help remember your dad."

Her eyes were pleading with me to do it, and after my crass comment I'd almost made, how could I refuse. Taking it from her, I walked into her en-suite to change. I'd just stripped down to my pants when the door opened.

"Mum! Bloody hell, I'm undressing!"

She sniggered, turning into a half laugh.

"I wanted to hand you these, they go with the suit and shirt."

She handed me some leather shoes and they looked expensive too. Then she just stood there, looking at me with a vacant-like stare.

"Mum! Do you want to see me in this get-up or not? Let me change in peace!"

Her eyes seemed to linger on me, partially lost in her own world. Snapping out of whatever was rolling through her mind, she stepped out of the en-suite, then stopped before she closed the door taking a last glance at me. I rolled my eyes, shaking my head.

Stepping back into the bedroom, she looked at me, immediately bringing a hand to cover her mouth which hung open, and tears started to fall. I immediately started to backtrack into the en-suite.

"James, stop! Please, don't, it was just the shock, please come back, let me look at you."

I turned, and warily walked back in, standing a few feet from her as her eyes roamed critically over me. She smiled, but like Mona Lisa, I couldn't determine what the look on her face was showing. Sadness, happiness, I think it was a jumble of mixed emotions creating a smile that smacked of profound loss. She stood there, wringing her hands together in front of herself. The tears had slowed, and all I could do was stand and look at her, arms hanging loosely by my side, not quite sure what to do.

Maybe I shouldn't have done this, bring back memories that could now never be re-enacted. She walked over to me, her hand touching my shoulder, fingertip tracing a line across my back, then over the other arm, moving across my chest as she slowly walked around me, her eyes visibly scanning my body intently. One hand gently pushed the jacket open, running the palm of her hand slowly over my chest, undoing the waistcoat buttons, then down across my stomach. Her eyes were following her hand, which stopped what felt like millimetres from my trousers waistband. Her hand remained there for several seconds. It was bad enough when her fingertips roamed over my shoulders and arms, but undoing the waistcoat felt so sexual, I should have stopped her, but the look on her face, she was happy, it wasn't because of me, it was because of the suit and the fact it was my dad's.

I tried, and failed, my body reacted, almost violently as my cock felt like a caged animal as it flexed and moved against the clothing. It was far too much for me, the sensual touch of a woman made my body fold like a house of cards unable to resist. Suddenly, her hand pulled away quickly. I'd felt her fingers brush me, I'd reacted, and she'd definitely felt it.

"Oh! I'm sorry, James, I... I didn't mean to embarrass you... make you jump... like that."

"It's seeing you in this suit, the shoes. You more than remind me of your dad, it's like a time warp, back to when he was young, like you. There is a difference, better diet and exercise I suppose, you are certainly, what do you youngsters call it, more cut than your dad was at your age."

Unexpectedly her body slowly lowered into a crouch, and with it, her fingers drifted down my torso, before following a path down a leg right down to the shoes.

The touch felt... sensual, so delicate, it made me swallow hard as it was hopeless to not respond. I had to assume she consciously avoided brushing my cock as her fingers casually sailed down my waist, but I couldn't stem the rising tension in the pit of my stomach, not bad, like the point of watching a porn clip, just before my own money shot. She was looking at the shoes as her hands ran over the leather.

"The shoes, they're special, a gift from one of your dad's friends. I can't talk about them now, but they finished this ensemble when your dad wore it, and he looked so..."

Whatever she was going to say, never followed, as her hands slid back up my legs, letting go as she felt me tense when I thought her fingers were going to stray too far. Balancing herself, her face was inches from my midsection, and I couldn't hide that I had tented out against the trousers. She looked straight at me, she didn't speak, didn't move for what felt like an eternity.

My heart was beating like a hammer and anvil as my breathing became deeper. It felt so wrong to feel like this, it wasn't helping that those captivating eyes seemed to be staring at my cock, I could swear blind I'd caught sight of her red lips slightly part, her tongue tip, running seductively across her teeth. The shame of it caused me to turn my head, I could no longer look down at her. I wasn't thinking of her, in the whole, sexually, but these little acts... they felt so sexual... my body seemed to be working of its own free will.

Slowly, she stood back up and stepped back, I noticed her breathing was quite shallow.

This felt way too wrong, at this point I felt the right thing to do was retreat into the en-suite. As I moved, she stepped forward, her arms wrapped around me as she kissed me softly on my cheek.

"Please James, just hold me, remind me what it feels like to have a good man hold you."

Her arms were wrapped around me a fair way up my body, I placed my arms around her so they held her around the lower part of her waist. Looking over her shoulder, I could see our reflection in the mirror. She stood on the balls of her feet, the skirt she was wearing had ridden up slightly revealing a little more of her naked legs, and her backside seemed to strain against the material of the skirt, giving the impression it jutted out a little more than normal. I couldn't help it, my rock-hard cock twitched violently a couple of times, now trapped between us. Despite the clothes, she must have felt it, although she didn't react. I went to pull back, to save us both from further embarrassment.

"Mum, I'm sorry, I can't help it. I'm not having those kind of thoughts about you, I haven't got some weird mummy son crush on y..."

"Ssshh! Let me have this moment, don't feel embarrassed, it doesn't bother me. It's only natural for your body to respond, I fully understand it has no bearing on us right now."

With that, she hugged me tighter, she stood higher on her toes to kiss my cheek again as my hand drifted to be resting on the top of her backside cheeks. Willing my body not to respond, it betrayed me, as I felt my cock twitch yet against her body, I was certain it was pressing in the area through her skirt between the top of her thighs. Finally, she stepped back, and I caught her eyes dip very quickly to look down at my erection. She made an excuse to leave the room.

"I'll go and make some tea whilst you get changed."

As she turned, she was giggling as she spoke with her back to me as she walked away.

"I think the woman that finally captures your heart will be very pleased with the package you hav... I mean are!"

I felt I could die of embarrassment. Why couldn't the ground open up and swallow me whole? That easily topped my previous number one most shameful moment: my fourth grade self in a cute bunny costume in a sea of laughing pirates, knights and spiderboys on carnival.

I turned swiftly, retreating into the en-suite where I changed out of the suit, returning it to the bedroom. A few minutes later she returned with the two teas.

"I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, it's just... you're just so much like him, the first time he wore that suit, was the first time the tango really worked for us... everything seemed to flow, the passion, the..."

Her voice trailed off, faltering. Inhaling a couple of times, I was expecting a flood of tears. Instead, those green eyes looked directly into mine, it was as if they had stored the intensity of what they'd shared together. The little smile only reinforced the depth of her reminiscing.

"He was a good man, and I will never forget what we two had together."

She then placed the suit bag into its carry bag, the shoes had lived inside a fancy suede lined box. As she put them inside, I noticed there was a handwritten letter inside. She read it, smiled, shaking her head, before repacking it in the box.

"These can go back in the wardrobe, they mean too much to me, I can't part with them."

They were the only things to remain. I had to admit, I was curious about the letter, it was addressed to my dad, that much I could see. One day I'd ask her about it, but not now.

I started to feel a little paranoid, the way my body kept reacting in these difficult circumstances was wrong. I needed to make my mum understand I didn't fancy her. I'm not some kind of creep with a mummy-son fantasy. I knew my mum was attractive, when we were out for a meal or event, my dad would tease her, telling her there were men eying her up, which usually had me complaining that it's the kind of gross stuff a son doesn't want to hear. Then there were my friends - when we had a sleepover, and managed to snag some booze to drink on the QT, a straw poll declared my mum was the hottest one of the bunch, and my friends would happily fuck her if the chance ever came along. They led to a few frayed tempers that night fuelled by alcohol.

As we sat on the edge of the bed holding the cups as the drinks cooled, I thought I'd clear the air.

"Mum, I'm really sorry about earlier, I tried hard t... I mean I didn't mean to get hard because of you, oh fuck! I'm not attracted to you!"

I felt really flustered watching her put the cup on the drawer, shaking her head and putting on a sad pouty face.

"Firstly, language, James, Secondly, so I'm not attractive, does that make me a hag then?"

I sat, my mind freewheeling not sure how I could put right what I'd just said.

"No! No! you're not a hag, You are attractive, just not to me... oh shit, I mean, you're my mum, but you are attractive, my friends, they said you're the top MILF amongst all of my friends!"

She suddenly smiled.

"Now really? So how did that conversation come about?"

I looked sheepishly at the floor.

"A couple of years back, when you let me have the big sleepover."

"Oh, that night, when you scored some booze, your dad had to step downstairs when it all seemed to get a bit angry."

We sat there in silence for a short while, I couldn't look up from the floor. She stood up, and walked over to me, using a finger to gently lift my chin.

"Oh, I understand now, you weren't happy I was the top MILF in their minds."

I made a slight shake of head, lowering it again. Again, she lifted my chin high enough so we were looking into each other's faces.

"So you didn't pick one of your friend's mums then? I'm surprised, actually flattered, that a load of teenage boys made me the number one mum they'd like to..."

"MUM!"

She laughed.

"Don't worry, I wasn't going to say the F word, but yes, I'm proud to think your friends thought I've still got it. So spill it, who did you pick?"

I stammered for a bit, I could see she wasn't going to let it drop. In the end, I gave her an answer.

"Dean's mum, I think she has a hot body."

My mum laughed, shaking her head.

"So, it's got nothing to do with the fact she never wears a bra, and her nips stick out like Scania wheel nuts, and the leggings she wears look as if they've been sprayed onto her body?"

I felt myself go beet red again, I knew I was busted. She laughed.

"Don't feel bad, you're just like your dad, he..."

She stopped, the smile momentarily fading from her face as she suddenly thought about my dad.

She spoke again, her voice now soft.

"Let's just say, your dad was a tit and arse man, and I think you may have inherited the same traits. His eyes were like lasers latching onto a braless woman when we came across one. You're a man, if you didn't find women sexy that would mean..."

She let it hang in the air, I knew she was teasing, but I still reacted.

"I'm not gay!"

The smile came back, along with a glint in her eyes.

"Oh, I know that, you clearly demonstrated that earlier when you hugged me, and I'm your mum!"

With that, I walked off to the bathroom, embarrassed and sure my face was that red, it would ignite. Behind me, I heard her giggle. When I finally felt I could show my face, we cracked on with the task at hand. I tried to forget the discussion, however, despite a few moments, it did feel like her spirits had lifted a little, and I heard her laugh a little earlier, something that had not happened for a few days.

۞۞۞۞

I worked in the same division as my uncle, he was a Senior Engineer, I was an electrical apprentice. My dad was one of the two senior sales directors, so it was not an issue remaining off until after the funeral. After three weeks, it was all coming together, money started to roll in from various insurance policies and from the pension scheme as death in service. My mum asked me to sit with her, and work through all of the paperwork. She told me that, financially, we would be OK, but may not necessarily live to the same standard as we did before. An example she gave was the big summer holiday. It was always somewhere nice, usually a five-star all-inclusive resort abroad. But what would the point in that be now? My dad was gone, and it would never, ever feel right to do that again.

It didn't take long for the funeral to roll around, which was in a few days. My dad was to be cremated. My mum asked me to make sure my black suit fitted me still. I'd worn it eighteen months ago for my grandad's funeral. I had clearly grown since then as my mum laughed when I stood in front of her, with a fair amount of skin showing between my feet and the bottom of my trousers. As for the jacket, forget it, I'd filled out too much. We made plans to go clothes shopping the next day, she said she wanted a special dress for the occasion too.

Bluewater Shopping Centre is massive, plenty of designer shops along with the usual large departmental stores. It didn't take me long to find a black suit. When I came out of the changing room to get her opinion, she moved up close to me, gently pulling and aligning the jacket and shirt I'd selected. As she stood close to me, I could smell her perfume. Glancing down, I could see down her blouse, the flesh shimmied slightly in her bra as she adjusted my clothes. Then I caught a quick flash; she moved, and I glimpsed a nipple, which looked raised. My body reacted immediately. Unfortunately, she was patting down the suit jacket, when her hand patted the erection I was trying to hide. There were other people outside of the changing room where we stood, she stepped back, and cocked her head slightly, as if to say 'what the heck is that all about?'

When I came out of the changing room after putting my clothes back on, she suggested we go grab a bite to eat and a drink. Once we were seated, she spoke.

"I'm sorry about that, you took me by surprise. I understood before, when we were close in the bedroom... but helping you make sure that suit fitted? Are you sure you voted Dean's mum as the hottest MILF?"

As was often now becoming the norm, I felt myself colour up. Her eyes were fixed on mine as she teased me, I desperately thought of something to hide the real reason why.

"There were a couple girls looking at skirts behind you, I thought one was really hot."

She gave a little 'hu huh' then an impish grin.

"Really? That's funny because when you were in the changing room, I was looking through the very same rack just moments before you came out, and I don't recollect there being anyone else looking."

My eyes looked away, and she knew I was busted, but didn't know quite why.

"Don't worry, your dad was as poor as you are trying to hide inappropriate moments like that."

Shaking her head, she laughed for a few seconds.

"It's kinda funny. He was caught out, because of his reaction to other women, and not me. You, on the other hand, were caught out because of the complete opposite."

I actually felt uncomfortable with her comment, and she realised. Leaning towards me, her fingers touched my cheek.

"I'm sorry, I was teasing you. I'm a woman, you're a man, sometimes, we react in a way we shouldn't but the primitive part of our brain doesn't quite get that bit. Don't worry, in a way, I'm flattered, but don't make a habit of it, or it will get creepy!"

She made the comment in a jokey way, but she was quite right. I needed to make sure we avoided any similar circumstances. We finished our meal, then carried on with the shopping. After trying on several different dresses in a few stores, we ended up back in the first store, where she picked out the first dress she had looked at when we started shopping. When she looked at me, I rolled my eyes, my dad always used to moan jokingly, she would inevitably go back and buy the first item she looked at when clothes shopping, therefore wasting time where he could be doing something useful like playing golf. She re-modelled it, and I thought she looked good in it, and told her so. It hugged her figure nicely, didn't quite come down to her knees and was fairly tight. Looking at hersef for the last time in the mirror, I was glad she finally made a choice.

"This'll do, it's not quite a LBD, but I don't look like a frumpy old maid either."

I was a bit puzzled.

"What's a LBD?"

She laughed.

"Oh my God! You so need a proper girlfriend. LBD, Little Black Dress, usually matched with FMS or FMB."

I looked at her, without a clue. She started to laugh.

"You really don't know, do you!"

With that, she put one hand's finger and thumb together to make a circle then pushed the index finger of the other hand back and forth through the hole she'd made. She looked at me, as I tried to make out what she was doing, then I realised, and closed my eyes so I didn't have to watch her lewd finger puppet display. I could hear her laughing as she spoke.

"Yes, FMS shoes or FMB boots for... you know now. You really, really, need a girlfriend to take you on some shopping experiences."

She picked up a hat with a veil and I thought we were done, then she suggested it would be good to pick up some new black shoes for me. When we reached the shoe shop, she left me to go and find something suitable, pointing to a woman's clothes shop a few stores away, indicating where she was going. It didn't take me long to find some shoes, so I went down and entered the store she said she would be in. I had been distracted by a woman walking in front of me wearing the tightest pair of jeans I think was humanly possible to fit into. As I walked in, I suddenly realised where I was. It was a lingerie store. What the fuck? The female assistant looked at me, she was currently serving another woman. She quickly excused herself and scurried over to me.

"Can I help you?"

Shit, I had to think quick, I can't say I'm here looking for my mum!

"Sure, erm my friend came in here about ten minutes ago, woman in her forties, is she still here?"

She looked relieved when she answered.

"Oh, that's good, I'm tied up with this customer here. If you go to the changing rooms, she's the only one in there, and I was supposed to go back to her."

With that, she walked off back to the other customer. It seemed I had no choice but to go and find my mum.

Walking into the changing area, there were four changing booths, with curtains. Just as I went to call out to her, the curtain suddenly opened, and my mum walked out. She stopped, and stood looking surprised at my presence. I stood there in total shock, as she stood before me in a black basque thing, stockings and a tiny piece of almost transparent fabric that didn't do a great job of hiding her privates. I felt angry.

"What the fuck, mum, he isn't even cremated yet and your buying slutty underwear... Oh my god, you're looking to get laid soon!"

I turned quickly to get away, moving quickly, she very promptly snatched at my sleeve, pulling me back.

"James! James! This isn't what you think, honest to God, it isn't what you think! Please help me out of this, it's a little embarrassing, but I'll tell you why. Think of it as a super advanced take on the birds and the bees conversation."

I was still angry as we entered the area behind the curtain. It was a small space, with a floor to ceiling mirror. She stood looking at the mirror, as I stood behind her looking over her shoulder.

"If you can start to unlace the basque, I'll try and explain."

Still angry, I nodded, then looked at the basque trying to work out where to begin. She could see I wasn't quite sure, so gave me some advice.

"Start at the top, slacken it off then you pull it back through each eyelet to create some slack."

As I started, she started to explain why she was dressed this way.

"Your dad loved to see me dressed up, in clothes like this. In fact, I have several drawers of it at home. You're beginning to discover, men are very visual creatures when it comes to sex, women are too, but to a lesser degree, I think. But we do like to know we appeal to our men, to see the lust in a man's eyes, his face, showing he wants you for his carnal pleasure which is a mutual feeling in that situation. I want to look my best at the funeral as my husband, best friend and my lover. It's silly I know, but if his spirit is there on the day, I need him to know I'm thinking of him with my body and soul before he disappears forever."

By now, I was making some headway with the basque. As I was working it undone, more and more of her skin was being revealed. When I finally threaded it to the bottom, I looked at the reflection in the mirror and stopped. Where it was loose, those fleshy orbs were now barely concealed, the creamy flesh offset by the intricate lacy black material. My eyes travelled down her body to a piece of semi-transparent material in the vee between her thighs, enough to see she was shaved and the hint of her pussy slit was in plain, reflected sight. Lifting my eyes, I suddenly realised, she had been watching my reflection herself, bearing witness to me blatantly staring at her sex. There were tears flowing down her face, and I assumed it was because I'd overstepped the mark by staring at her body. As she opened her mouth, I started to wince expecting to have a major strip torn from me.

"Please, James, I miss him so much, wrap your hands around me, hold me tight."

With that, she started to sob properly. It was not what I had expected, it was a curveball thrown at my thought process. Putting my hands around her, I placed them on her flat stomach. Her hands slowly reached out and gripped mine, then started to guide them up her body, the unfamiliar sensation of the delicate and unfamiliar material igniting nerve endings in my palms and fingers as she guided them higher and higher until they were covering each boob, when she released me. I could feel the bump of each nipple just graze the bottom of my palms alongside the flimsy material. Once again, I could smell her perfume, she pushed her head back, moved at a slight angle so she was pressed against my cheek and chin. I could feel the warmth from her body... her eyes, now closed... her red lips parted slightly as she sobbed softly with me holding her.

There was a problem, my treacherous body, yet again, started to betray me. I became aware of her body pushing subtly back against me, despite the barely perceptible movement, the friction began to ratchet up. What should have been a benign sensation of no effect, inexorably increased the pressure until her bum cheeks trapped my cock, even though it was clad in clothes, it continued to harden with every passing second. I wanted it to stop twitching, but I couldn't due to the triple assault of sight, smell and touch. I started to move my hands away, to break this wicked spell that we were both under, but she quickly gripped my hands tightly, holding me in place so it was impossible to back away, arousal spiralling further and further out of control.

I closed my eyes, trying to break the visual connection of an aroused woman that I held in my arms whose body was breaking down my thoughts of decency. Suddenly, she let out a little moan, which was the catalyst I needed to mentally disconnect from the scene I had been so caught up in. The minute roll in her hips started to increase the pace, my trapped cock picking up the movement like a ship's sonar. Opening my eyes, her eyes were still closed, her mouth opened forming an O, and my palms could definitely feel that her nipples had hardened beneath them. This was wrong, so very wrong. I pulled my hands slightly, but she held them in place. I moved them, with more force and a little more urgency which made her open her eyes. It was then she realised, we were in an immoral vacuum of impropriety that a mother and son should certainly not be in. As I stepped back, the basque fell partially away, revealing each hard and puffy nipple, then there was the slight smell that tainted the air I hadn't noticed. I was horrified to realise it had aroused my mum as much as my rock-hard cock gave my own arousal away. I was mortified as to what we'd done.

Without another word, I swiftly backed out of the changing area, and stood in the shop. It wasn't long before she came out, and paid for her purchases. All this time, we didn't dare look or speak to each other.

This continued on the way home in the car, I honestly didn't know what to say. Was it my fault because I got hard, that aroused her? But I was aroused, because of what she was wearing, and the fact I was touching her, as a woman, not my mum. It felt like a chicken and egg scenario. Once we were home, sitting with a drink in the kitchen, she finally spoke.

"James, I'm so sorry, I'm the mature adult here, I let us both down. In the changing room, standing looking at my reflection, waiting for the shop assistant to return, stirred up all of the good memories of me and your dad, the wicked and delicious adult fun things we did together."

"Mum, please don..."

"Please, James, this is important to me, I need you to understand. Once you came in, as far as I was concerned it was no reflection in that mirror, it wasn't you holding me, it was him, a younger him, and I was but a girl once again. I literally drifted off into my own space, not keeping my body and emotions in check."

She then burst into tears. I stood from the table, walked around to stand behind her as she sat at the table and put my arms around her shoulders, pulling her into me.

"I really miss him too, mum. I understand, it must be a hundred times worse for you. The lack of intimacy, the physical aspect between you two, I know, because sometimes, I could hear you!"

It made her laugh momentarily between the tears.

"You are so like him. I had a dream the other night that he was built like you, an eighteen-year-old, but I was still a woman in her forties, and he still loved me. I'm sorry, so sorry, I'll make sure it never happens again."

"Mum, I'm as much to blame as you, I shouldn't have reacted to you, it's confusing... you're my mum... but you are the most beautiful woman I know. I know it's wrong, I promise I'll keep myself in check."

She turned her head and body so an arm could pull me down, and planted a soft kiss on my cheek, then a slightly longer one.

"Thank you, James, you don't know how much an old lady likes to hear an attractive young man tell her she's beautiful."

She kissed my cheek again, a little more pressure, a little longer. Then there was her perfume again.

"Mum!"

I pulled back, as yet again my body started to respond to her. She giggled, said "oops" as she put her hand over her mouth. That finally quelled the strange undercurrent and awkwardness for the remainder of the day.

۞۞۞۞

In bed that night I fidgeted, tossed and turned. Maybe a good wank would relieve the tension that was stopping me sleeping. Picking up my tablet, I headed over to Pornhub. Instead of my usual search for college girls and such like, I searched for MILFs in black lingerie. I watched a few clips, stroking myself to full hardness as I watched various scenes unfold. In one clip, a woman with a body and hair colour not dissimilar to my mum in a black basque and stockings, was kneeling on a floor as a man a lot younger than her stood there, her mouth slobbering back and forth hungrily over his cock. Spitting, drooling and gurgling sounds filled the little space around my bed as she relentlessly set about giving the guy some serious head. I started to stroke my cock to match the speed of her mouth as it descended further and further down his member, finally reaching the root. She stopped, maintaining that position, until she started to gag, hurriedly pulling away as fluids formed strings of glop between her lips and the head of his cock. Her eyes looked at the camera which was positioned to make out it was a POV for the guy she was blowing. Slowly, she took his cock back into her mouth, to repeat the process all over again.

When she paused the blowjob, I'd use my thumb to smear the pre-cum over my cockhead, so when I started wanking again, the sounds of the oily sheen gliding between flesh joined the obscene clip on the screen. As it continued, I closed my eyes, just listening to the soundtrack, picturing the scene that had just been on the screen. In my mind, the face of the woman morphed with every dip of her head, until the image in my mind was my cock and my mother's mouth. It took several seconds before the moral part of my mind put a stop to my sick actions as I let go of my cock.

Feeling angry with myself, I stopped, turned the tablet off and lay back and shut my eyes. Several minutes later, it was useless, I fired the tablet back up, hit Pornhub then searched 'gym rat workout'. A nice clip of a blonde twenty something being double-teamed helped provide the relief I was looking for. I shut it down and finally went to sleep.

۞۞۞۞

Me, mum, my uncle Glen and aunt Terri were with me in the limousine as we left the crematorium. Thirty minutes ago, the curtains closed in the chapel, the coffin disappeared from view behind them as the relay controlling the rollers clicked to start his last journey. Until that moment, it had felt surreal, as if he was away somewhere. A work course, a golf holiday, anything that meant he would walk through the door back home later tonight. This was the final piece of reality that made it... so real.

My mum had sat through the service next to me, even today, she still looked beautiful. I know that every kid considers their mum beautiful, but my mum Stacy truly was. In her black heels, black dress and jacket, along with a hat and lace veil she projected that of a loyal loving wife to those around her, and that's exactly what she was, or now, had been up to this point. But she was beautiful, she had always laughed and joked with my dad at how many had tried, and failed, to garner her attention over the years. Sitting holding her hand, it made me wonder. How long before she replaced him, had another man in her bed? As I'd entered my teenage years, I came to realise my parents enjoyed sex - and lots of it, even up to the night before he left us. How was she going to cope, what would it mean to me? For some reason, it troubled me.

We returned to our house; it was packed with those that had come to join us in the last celebration of his life. A few hours later, with the help of relatives and friends, the house was soon back shipshape after the wake. My uncle offered to stay overnight, but my mum declined his kind offer.

"We need to get to grips with our life, Glen, Jim is gone now. I still have James here and that's all I need in my life for the time being. We will cope, Glen, I promis..."

Not for the first time today, she came undone, her emotions set free in further tears she shed. After further hugs of reassurance and love, the last of the family left and we were alone. Deciding to return to some form of normality, we sat on the sofa together, turned the TV on and watched a nature program narrated by David Attenborough. My mum was still wearing the black dress as she cuddled into me. Instinctively, I put my arm around her, pulling her in tighter as her hair brushed against my cheek. I glanced down, to see the black lacy basque she had bought to wear to the funeral just visible under her dress. My aunt had obviously helped her put it on earlier today. Seeing it made me twitch in my trousers. I turned my head to look away as I felt my face flush at doing something so wrong. Despite the fact she was my mum, she was an attractive woman, I would need to make sure I kept my urges in check if she was going to need this level of closeness to help her come to terms with life.

When the program finished it was eleven o'clock, we had both endured a mentally draining day. During the program, I hadn't noticed that she had repositioned herself, her legs were now curled under her on the sofa, and it was clearly stockings she was wearing! I looked at them hypnotically, as just a few millimetres of flesh showed in what felt like a gulf between her stocking tops and the bottom of her dress. I couldn't help it, I reacted. Strongly. Her hand had been resting on my thigh, it was obvious she'd felt me as her hand slowly pulled back to save me from any embarrassment.

Stacy

It was over, the part that finally closed the door on the life that me and Jim had was gone, all I could now do was to cherish the memories. At the moment I just wanted to cry and cry until I had no more tears but I had to be better than that, I had to prove to be a rock for James as much as he was doing more than I would ever expect in those short eighteen years of his life on this earth to be able to contend with. Wherever his dad was, I'm sure he was looking down proud of his son.

Sitting with James on the sofa had proved to be both comforting, and disturbing, in equal measures. He was so much like his dad, I momentarily forgot that as I got comfortable, too comfortable, as we sat and snuggled up on the sofa.

I felt that Jim's soul was there in the chapel today, as the remnants of the once physical being transcended this world. Under the dress, the new black basque and stockings, he deserved to leave knowing I loved him, and I'd dressed this one last time for him in something that would have made him rise to the occasion. For whatever reason, as that thought rolled around my mind, I felt James's cock suddenly bob through his trousers. Inwardly, I smiled and let me think it was Jim using his son's body to show approval for my choice of clothing for his final farewell.

۞۞۞۞

Standing alone in my bedroom, as the dress fell from my body, the emotions I wanted so desperately to control slipped from the deepest parts of my soul. So numb, I couldn't physically cry out, but it never stopped the tears from streaming down my cheeks. I looked at the woman staring back at me in the mirror, a woman that finally came completely undone. I couldn't do this alone. I fled, heading for my son's bedroom, launching myself at him.

"Please, James, I'm sorry, so sorry, just hold me, hold me close, never let me go!"

James

I had just stripped down to my underpants, when I heard my mum quickly pad down the hallway and crash through the doorway into my room, running straight into my arms as she burst into tears, wrapping herself tightly around me. I was shocked, not by her actions, but by her attire. She had stripped down to the sexy black underwear that had taken us to the brink of unacceptability in a lingerie store dressing room. Her body was practically moulded against me and 'conflicted' was not even close to how I felt. Why was she dressed like this now?

Her head was practically bouncing on my shoulder through the sobbing, my arms wrapped around her, just as my dad used to when life got to my mum for some reason. Inhaling her perfume, it was more noticeable probably due to our proximity to each other, and her lack of clothing. God, I tried, it was impossible. A beautiful woman's body pressed so tightly against me broke almost every barrier of restraint I was trying to muster; my cock was twitching and throbbing like crazy against her. She must have felt it, I know she felt it, there was no way she couldn't.

Stacy

Oh my god, what was I doing! In such a state, I failed to notice it initially, but it was now glaringly obvious what I'd done as I felt my son's growing erection press against me. What a stupid woman, of course something would happen, he was a man, not a boy, and feeling a woman's body pressed up against him dressed like this was a natural reaction, which was exactly what had happened a matter of days ago. Starting to bring my emotions in check, I stepped back and looked at his sheepish face. He started to draw air in to speak, I put a finger to his lips to silence him.

"Don't be embarrassed, James, it's a natural response to being physically close to a near naked woman. I sometimes forget, you're not a little boy any more, you're a man following in your father's footsteps."

He coloured up pink, I then realised the double entendre in the use of my wording and reference to the fact I'd said 'you're not a little boy any more'. Actually, if the strength of the pulses I felt were correct, it meant there was more of his father about him then I realised, physically a lot more of him than his father to be honest. I quickly tried to shift that thought from my mind. I went back to how I felt about being alone. I thought I could be strong, face the lack of being close to someone on my own, but I accepted I wasn't quite ready yet.

"James, would you mind if I slept in your bed tonight... I just can't face being alone, just not yet. I can err... go and get changed first, but I'll need your help... like in the changing room. Sorry about this."

Looking back at him, his eyes were moving, taking in the detail of my body and partial state of undress. It made sense I suppose, it wasn't as if he was used to being this up and close to a grown woman, especially one dressed in lingerie. But he had seen me like this, touched me whilst dressed like this, so we had hopefully gotten past that awkwardness. His eyes finally met mine and smiled sympathetically.

"I'm sorry, mum... it's just... It's hard being this close to you, like this. I promise, what happened before, it won't happen again."

Despite the day we'd had, I let out a slight laugh through the tears that were starting to slow up.

"Did you say you were hard, or did you mean you wouldn't get hard again?"

I couldn't help but smile at the comment I'd made, in fact I felt myself blush slightly before I had a little chuckle at my attempt to bring some silly humour into the moment we were sharing before I continued, in a more serious vein.

"I doubt that, you're a man, and that's exactly how a red-blooded man should act. You just need to save those thoughts for somebody other than your own mother. By the way, I saw Kendra toda.."

"No, mum, I spoke to her at the wake, asked if she fancied going out over the next couple weeks. She made it perfectly clear; I'm not her type. One day, one day I'll find a woman to love like dad found you."

His own tears dampened his eyes as he tried to give me a slight smile.

"Don't worry about that, James, I had to fend them off to claim your dad. Trust me, the minute the right woman comes along, a dozen more will spring out of the woodwork realising someone's staking their claim. You're too much like your..."

I stopped speaking, it was the only way of stopping another flood of tears.

"I'm sorry, James, as much as I feel alone, I need to make a fresh start, face reality. If you don't mind, I'd like to just sit here for a while. But first, can you undo the basque please, so I can take it off in my room before I go to bed."

Having undone it before, he was a lot quicker. To make sure we didn't slip up this time around, we spoke about the next day, and what we'd do. When it was undone, he excused himself and vanished off to the bathroom for a shower.

I felt tired, really tired but couldn't face returning to my bedroom quite just yet. I'd lay down here, just for five minutes, looking at my state of undress there was nothing really showing. Yes, I was dressed in lingerie, under normal circumstances it would be wrong to be in my son's room dressed like this, but it wasn't normal circumstances, and I wasn't here with any sexual intention. That therefore made it acceptable to me. I'd wait for him to come back from his shower, wish him a good night then retire to my own bedroom. I felt tired... my eyes kept closing... as much as the fear of being alone was brooding in my mind, I had to accept it.., it was the only way... the only way to move forwards.. accept I was now a single woman and had to sleep alone. Without realising it, I must have fallen sleep.

James

I wasn't surprised she was struggling with the idea of sleeping alone. I couldn't imagine how hard it must be to go from being cocooned with your partner in a bed, a time to reflect on life together and of course, the physical intimacy, to it being cruelly ripped from her, and it must be hell.

She apologised for being here, and said she would return to her room. Then she asked me to undo the basque again. Just being asked made my insides roll around in a way I didn't understand. And my damned cock! Twitching and bobbing in the confined space of my pants, knowing it had a mind of its own. As I undid the basque, I concentrated hard on the task at hand, kept my body back from her and started an inane conversation to prevent a repeat of the episode in the changing room. The moment the garment was loose, I disappeared for a shower. I didn't want her to witness the erection she was yet again responsible for causing. Running the shower cold, I shivered as I punished myself for reacting as I had. Other than the moment watching the porn clip, jacking off, I was not actually thinking of her sexually, and yet, somewhere in the dirty dregs in the sewer of my mind, there must be some subconscious thoughts that made me react. It was maddening that I seemed defenceless to stop it happening.

Once out of the shower, I realised I'd cocked up in my haste to escape the bedroom, I hadn't picked up anything fresh to change into. I slid the tight white briefs back on I'd been wearing, and wrapped a towel around me. Once back in the room and she was gone, I could strip down, as I usually slept naked. I'd not heard her leave my bedroom, so I assumed she was waiting to say goodnight. Entering my bedroom, she was laid out on the bed, fast asleep. It felt like I was looking at Sleeping Beauty, laying on her back with a hand on her stomach, her legs partially apart. Moving to stand on her side of the bed, I looked down at her. Even with the smudged make-up, she was beautiful, it didn't matter if she was covered in dirt, she would still be... beautiful come what may.

I lent down over her chest and inhaled deeply. The smell, it was a mix of perfume and her. Up until a couple hours earlier, it was the smell of my mum that I had always known. But right now, it equated to something darker, something I shouldn't be feeling. Looking at her face, she seemed so peaceful. Her breathing was deep and steady, I gently touched her arm to rouse her, but she just murmured something incomprehensible and remained fast asleep. With that, that dark vibe in me became stronger than the moral one, the one whose grip on me had been loosened with the physical and emotional contact over the last couple of weeks.

Carefully, I stroked her hair, her eyelids flickered, making me panic and I took my hand away. When she didn't stir, I continued, my fingertips slowly caressing her hair, her forehead then running down her nose. When they touched her lips, I stopped moving, and looked at them. I could feel the moisture there, detect the slow and steady breaths. I almost pulled my hand away as the tip of her tongue suddenly touched my fingers. When I moved my fingers away, I could see her tongue moving slightly, trying to find the fingers that had just been there. Deciding it was too risky, I let my fingers brush an ear, down her cheek, tracing a path down her neck until they reached the now loose material of the basque. My breathing had quickened, as if emboldening me for what the monstrous part of me knew it was going to do.

Gently, so very gently, I flattened my fingers allowing them to move down into the generous gap that existed due to the basque being undone. Her body was soft and warm, as the tips of my finger moved over the contour toward the peak of flesh. Rising up the fleshy mound, I couldn't resist gently pushing into the soft skin, feeling the mound deform slightly. Slowly releasing the pressure, it regained its shape. I smiled, it made me think of the way my memory foam mattress reacted to pressure.

My fingers continued their climb up the mound until her skin texture changed to feel a little crinkly just before my fingers reached a small nub of flesh. Being extremely careful, I let my thumb and a couple of fingers dance slowly back and forth over it, rolling it it between my finger and thumb. marvelling at the way it hardened and grew. Fucking hell, I couldn't think of any words to explain how exhilarating this was.

Suddenly, she shifted, her arm moved over, trapping my hand as it sat squarely on that boob I was feeling. She was murmuring in her sleep; I couldn't be sure but I'm sure I caught the word "Jim" in the almost incoherent slow babble. I could feel my heart thumping, tendrils of fear gripping my heart. If she wakes up, she'll know what I was doing, there is no way I could bluff my way out of this. After a couple of minutes, I tried to free my fingers. All that did was for her fingers to try and curl and grip me, making it harder for me to extract myself from the compromising situation.

She was certainly dreaming, her eyelids kept fluttering now and then, she would stop and start to mutter unintelligibly, her voice so soft it couldn't even be considered whispering. Then, her hand finally shifted, it was hard to resist the urge to yank my hand out. I started to move it, then stopped because of what was unfolding right before my eyes. Her hand had subconsciously dropped down her body, fingers slowly but purposefully slipping inside her panties. Her head turned, there was a noticeable stiffening in her body as a low moan escaped those luscious lips.

Her breathing deepened further, a reddish tinge around her neck and upper chest as the blood moved to the surface to cool itself. Watching the indefinite motion of her fingers whilst my own tweaked the ever-hardening nipple was the most erotic thing I had ever seen. Sod porn, this happening for real right before my eyes had my own breathing labouring as I tried to keep up with this visual treat. As wrong as it was, I craved more.

Removing my hand from her body, I went and stood at the bottom of the bed. I was damn sure she was dreaming, something hot and sexy. There was no urgency, through the semi-transparent panel of the black mesh panties, two fingers appeared to be sliding lazily up and down the slit of her pussy. I took a breath, then carefully knelt on the end of the bed trying to cause the least disturbance to the mattress. Again, she murmured, her head lolled slightly to the side as if her subconscious was acknowledging someone's presence on the bed with her. Drawing a couple of deep breaths, I decided I was going to go all in, her beauty and the temptation were just too much to resist.

Carefully placing a hand on each ankle, I paused, to make sure there was no negative reaction. Trying to control my breathing, my hands shakily started to glide over the stockings, my fingers spreading out as they came into contact with more of her leg. The sensation was indescribable. I had to stop, my cock tingling like mad as if I was about to cum. It felt as right to me as it was wrong in reality. As my hands moved further up her legs, her head moved almost drunkenly side to side, her mouth now open a little more, the sound of air being drawn in through her nose, more pronounced.

Reaching the top of her stockings, it was decision time. If I carried on and she woke up, I couldn't see any way it would go other than bad, maybe even throw me out of the house. Deciding the risk was too great, I began to lessen the slight pressure of my hands and stop the madness until... until I caught a scent in the air, one I had faintly detected before. Leaving my hands where they were, I leant forward, my face mere centimetres from her panties. I inhaled deeply, taking in an aroma that made me feel almost light-headed. The couple of times I'd previously had sex were quick, and dirty, afterwards I could smell "sex", I remember smelling my fingers trying to liken the smell to something. Right at this moment, all I could associate it with was my mum pushing herself back against me in the changing room, my cock caught between her arse cheeks. I had to lift my head slightly as, yet again, I was close to blowing my load. I stopped and thought about it. She admitted, it made her feel good, of sorts, back in the changing room when she was imagining I was my dad. Maybe, just maybe, in her mind, right now, this crazy situation was manifesting itself in a dream of my dad having this physical contact. If that was true, it would make her feel good, take away some of the heartache. I convinced myself I should press on.

Confident I'd regained my composure, then taking a deep breath, my hands left the safety of the stockings and moved into no-man's land of the bare, exposed flesh. Again, she reacted, her head moving, a low sigh. To my surprise, her legs shifted slightly, parting them a few degrees more. Instead of moving upwards, my hand filled as much of the soft flesh as possible, before rotating them in a slow and methodical pattern back and forth as far as I could. The flesh of her thighs had little give as I let them take a slow twisting path upwards until each index finger touched her panties. Again, a reaction as before, her chest now noticeably rising and falling, her fingers seemed more urgent, as I witnessed them partially slip into the folds of her slit as they moved up and down. That scent continued to drive me crazy, joined by a low slurpy sound as those fingers kept up their hypnotic pace.

Mentally, I knew this was wrong, so very wrong in that it could wreck our relationship in a milli-second if she woke up. I had to stop, but I needed to do one last thing, give me something to remember this moment by. I'd already gone too far to stop so I went for it, knowing if it went wrong, I'd be condemned to hell.

Pushing each thumb under her panties, then rotating each hand on her thighs, I felt moisture. Making little circles with my thumbs, it was more slippery than mere water, I then started to curl them slightly inwards, sliding through those oily lips, her fingers stopped moving and I froze. After what was only a few seconds but felt like an eternity, I lifted my head, half expecting to see her looking at me in shock and unable to speak. She wasn't.

Her mouth was now open, the tip of her tongue sliding slowly across her teeth and upper lip, before slithering back into her mouth. Her breathing was a lot heavier, surely, she would wake soon? When she didn't, I let my thumbs work in unison, as they pushed deeper into the warm and wet slit. When I'd been watching her face a few moments ago, I hadn't noticed her fingers slide free, what I did now notice was each thumb was fully buried inside her pussy. With each stroke, more and more of the oily sheen coated my thumbs and part of my hand. Like a drug addict, I needed more, her aroma no longer satisfying my needs.

I had to taste her. Lowering my head over her panties, I took another deep breath, the smell giving me the willpower to keep going. Pursing my lips, I started to kiss the thin fabric, now damp with her excretion. I had never realised that the mechanics behind sex had been so finely tuned by nature.

Up and down, harder and harder, I kept kissing over her pussy. Despite the material, the contours of her lips and opening felt unbelievable. Despite not being able to see her, the noises she made were like a low-level symphony of sounds associated with sex, as her breathing became more laboured, the mutterings louder although still unintelligible. She had to wake soon, I had one last act, before I pulled the curtains down on my despicable behaviour. Taking my thumbs from her pussy, I managed to gently pull the lower part of her panties aside, then used my tongue to run over the flesh that was available to me before continuing up over the panty-clad part of her pussy. For the first time, her hips moved, rising slightly from the bed to try and meet my mouth. Alarmingly, her hand now moved to rest on my head. This time, two words were muttered that I clearly understood.

"Yesssss, Jim,"

That told me what I suspected, she was dreaming of my dad right now. In some ways, that twisted logic justified what I was doing. If she was getting some pleasure from it, and her brain was telling her it was my dad, it had to be right to keep going?

So, I did... back and forth with a steady rhythm... probing her tangy opening with each pass... noticing that a nub of flesh had grown under her panties at the top of her pussy. I assumed that was her clit, knowing it was supposed to be a major pleasure spot for women, I rolled my tongue over and over it... amazed at the sticky residue that seemed to coat her lips... spreading with every lick of my tongue as it lashed away... worming the tip into the fold of the hood and around the fleshy lips.

Pushing the flimsy material aside, I slid my thumbs back in her now slick pussy. Her breathing was noticeably deeper and her hips arched slightly yet again... then... shockingly..., her body arched upwards a little more, and held the pose, as a short string of coherent words left her mouth.

"Oh, oh, oh, yes, Jim, oh yes, Jim."

Without warning, she became a lot wetter down there, her pussy muscles flexing to grip my thumbs, her hips still trying to rise up as she bucked slightly a couple of times. God knows how it hadn't made her wake up. I was both mortified... and strangely proud of myself. I was pretty sure I'd just made my mum cum. No shadow of a doubt, I needed to stop, and stop now.

Moving deftly, I pulled back, then off the bed.

Taking a bedsheet from the draw, I covered her, then crawled on top of the other side of the bed. I knew at that moment, me, and me alone, needed to take the last thirty minutes of time to my grave. Despite a whirlwind of thoughts ripping through my mind, and a cock feeling like it was made of granite, I fell asleep.

Stacy

It took some time to register, where, and who I was with. In that twilight zone where you are neither fully awake or asleep, all felt well in the world. I could hear the little 'fffer' as Jim exhaled slowly in his sleep. Sometimes, like tonight, it was barely audible and didn't bother me, as I lay on my side, my arm draped over his torso. In the dark, his outline was just visible, the light that crept under the door from the hall enough to show his solid frame. I forgot how well his body was put together, somehow, he had defied the laws of nature with the body of an eighteen year ol...

I couldn't help but sniff. Those wishful thoughts had been blurring until I understood, the man whose body my arm was draped over, was my son, not my husband. With a greater level of awareness as I came further too, not only was my arm draped over him, a stocking clad leg was bent at an angle over his torso.

How long have I been here for? It felt like it was mere minutes ago that I must have nodded off and yet James was here in bed, fast asleep, not in the shower. Looking at James's alarm clock, it was two in the morning, I must have gone out like a light, and stayed that way.

Lying there in the silence, the mental pain was unquenchable. My husband, taken away from me, all I have left is my son who is the spitting image of my husband, bar hair style, when he was a similar age. Gently sliding my leg from his torso, that wasn't strictly true. Better diet, hormones in food or just good old evolution, James's body was just a little more so as I had come to find out, and one part definitely seemed a little more. Was it my imagination getting the better of me?

I could just see he was wearing a pair of 'tight whiteys' as his dad had called them. Tight fitting pants, they showed off every contour of whatever lay beneath. I needed to know, know that it wasn't my mind playing tricks, and that James was bigger than Jim. Slowly moving my arm down his body, my instincts used the mental image of his dad to map the path. There! Oh my god, he's as hard as steel! My fingers bumped into the pronounced lump that was his cockhead. Immediately, it twitched as if alive, swelling enough as it did to just nudge my prone finger tips. I stayed still, listening, making sure his breathing remained stable and steady. I'd only disturbed him at a subconscious level.

Using just my fingernails, I let them graze his crown through the cotton material. Again, an instant reaction, as it throbbed within the confines of his pants. Following the prominent ridge running down the shaft, it felt more pronounced than Jim's, and the whole length was slightly longer. Reaching the bottom, I let my nails scrape over his balls, he twitched again as they moved and bobbed in his ball sack. Going back the other way, he let out a low masculine moan that made the pit of my stomach churn. Somewhat worrying, I could detect my own arousal in the air. Surely not this quick, if so, I needed to dump those thoughts, I just wanted to satisfy my curiosity of his size. Moving my hand, I slipped fingers inside my panties. To my horror, I was wet, the material already more than just damp.

Then I remembered, I had a dream. Jim was caressing me, teasing my nipples before shifting to kneel between my legs. His strong hands, kneading my flesh, higher and higher until his fingers teased my opening, before slipping inside. Then, he used his mouth and tongue to ravish my pussy and clit, his approach was different in the dream, and it brought me off a lot quicker. Was that it, had I been dreaming, and that's why I woke up, and why I now felt an urge to touch my son?

I felt like a total witch right now, but I needed something, something to bridge the gap between what I once had, and could no longer have. Like a Viking longboat carrying the dead as it burns, what I was doing right now was an epitaph to my husband, his genes made the man beside me. I swore to myself, once I had an opportunity to bask in my husband's glory personified as my son, I would never touch him again in this way.

Using my fingers, I pushed them inside myself, twisting them in the slick and gooey tunnel before removing them. Taking care, I moved my hand back over to my son, before using the pads of the fingers that had just been inside me to rub my essence into him, the moisture seeping through the material to bath his cockhead as I paid attention to rubbing it into his corona, which made him shift slightly next to me. All the time, he jerked and spasmed as my fingers toyed with him.

Spreading my fingers out, I let them run down his shaft, trying to use them to gauge the circumference. Making his pants strain as I tried to get to grips with what he had, I was now certain he was not only slightly longer but was also noticeably thicker than his dad. A shudder went through me, as I imagined the lucky woman that would have this fill her once he settled down. Hell, I'm sure there would be plenty of women that would get that privilege before he found the one. Now sure I had the measure of him, I went back to running my nails up and down his shaft, all the time increasing the pressure... being mindful if he stirred too much, I needed to stop immediately. At the moment, he seemed to be enjoying this down in some deep place in his mind and to be honest, so was I. Carefully, I slid my other hand into my panties, and diddled my clit after using some of my own sticky juice as lube. It didn't take long to hear us both moaning slightly, him in his sleep, me fully awake, an intoxicating sensation of dangerous sexual pleasure that felt like nothing I could ever remember feeling before...

As this would be the one and only time I would push this, wanting to know about my son, I carefully slipped from the bed, noticing that there was a discarded sheet that he must have covered me with. Carefully kneeling on the bed, I leant down, my head following the line his cock lay in, taking steady deep breaths to inhale that oh so familiar, but slightly different musky male smell. I couldn't resist it, my tongue extended from my mouth and I set about sliding back and forth, up and down over his pant-clad shaft. When I reached the crown, I bathed as much as I could get to.

He shifted around slightly, his breathing really starting to labour, his chest just visibly rising and falling. Then I froze, a hand suddenly touched my hair. Please, please, don't let him wake and find me administering this sinful act. Trying to move away, the hand was more persistent, he wanted me to remain where I was. I returned to licking his shaft, bathing the crown with each pass. Even in the dim light, the cotton started to become almost transparent as it clung to him. In the end, I couldn't resist this one-time chance. I lowered my mouth to try and get as much of the head into my mouth as I possibly could. The thin material stretched as far as it could, allowing me to stuff a fair portion in my mouth.

All the time he flexed and pulsed... my insides churned with a thrill that made me think of my husband. Then, without warning, a solid couple of pulses and a slight groan surprised me as he started to cum. Despite his pants, a considerable amount of fluid seeped through the flimsy material, filling my somewhat overfilled mouth as I desperately tried to cope with the unexpected stream of sperm. Instinctively, my tongue did its best to slaver his cockhead through the thin material. My heart was hammering in my chest, my pulse pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. He started to stir; I shouldn't be here. Moving as light-footed as possible, I snuck from his room, quickly slipped into my own room and climbed into bed, pulling the light quilt over me.

James

I woke up, slightly sweating and breathing hard. I felt... felt like I'd just cum. Then I sensed it, my pants were sticky. What the fuck, I'd never had a wet dream, and I didn't even remember it. But then again, I couldn't be sure, why did I have that post-cum feeling of euphoria. Going down the hallway towards the bathroom, it dawned on me, my mum wasn't in the bed. Thank Christ she hadn't been there when I exploded. Knowing the state she was in, I knocked on her bedroom door. With no answer, I gingerly pushed the door open to see her sleeping form. Walking round to check on her, she appeared to be asleep, her lips just parted. I couldn't help myself, I brushed a thumb across her partially open mouth, and immediately, her tongue gently touched it. Unlike the last time, she stopped suddenly, before closing her mouth which made me withdraw my hand. Silently, I slipped from her room, entered the bathroom and turned the light on.

Holy fuck, my pants were soaked, did I really cum that much? Standing looking at myself closely in the mirror, my whole cock was wet, as if someone had... Running my fingers over the sticky messy that had soaked through my pants I tentatively sniffed my fingers. I recognised my own smell but there was something else... it reminded me off... No, it can't have happened. But something was fishy about my state.

In the end, I had another shower, put my towel around me and went back to bed.

Stacy

I froze as my bedroom door opened. Damn, damn and double damn! He must have seen me hot-footing from his room or woken sufficiently to realise it was me. What was I going to say? Trying to feint being asleep I figured the best way to tackle it would be to be honest, in part, claiming he was so much like his dad, and I wasn't aware I was in his bed when I woke up. It was the lamest of excuses, but I couldn't tell him the truth.

He shocked me for two reasons. I was surprised when he ran his thumb between my lips. Like Pavlov's dog, I reacted, exactly as I would have done had it been my husband and there was still that undercurrent of arousal with what had happened a few minutes back. The second shock was more pronounced. It was the taste of his thumb, something I recognised and was very familiar with. It was me; my very own essence and it was quite strong. Things were now dropping into place, I'd fallen asleep before he came back, at some point he had covered me with a sheet. My aroused state from earlier, the dampness, it all made sense. Rolling onto my back, I realised I hadn't breathed in or out causing me to have a long exhale.

In the morning, we would have a serious talk.