Walk-ins Are Welcome

Walk-ins Are Welcome

Mom interrupts her son and his girlfriend

I was fairly beat that afternoon. The thunderstorms that ran through town had taken out the power to the vet's office so they sent us all home two hours early. I had to contend with non-functioning traffic lights and axle-deep water on the roads and skip the grocery shopping, but I got there. I got there a little fried and no happier that the power was out at home, too. Now I had to worry about the food spoiling in the fridge and I didn't have what I needed to bake for Bobby's going away party the next day.

I stepped in the kitchen door and found Bobby's shoes scattered across the floor instead of in the rack. Dammit, I thought, how many times do I have to tell that boy to keep my kitchen neat!

I loved the kid, but he'd grown through the big, clumsy puppy stage into an adult and really shouldn't have needed a mother to scold him about his shoes. At that point we were just getting in each other's way.

Bobby was eighteen, after all, and about to leave for college. After single-parenting him for five years I knew that he needed to get a real life of his own. He was ready for that. I was ready to hand him over to the world and take off the 'mom' hat and have a life of my own. I'd been waiting to have the house to myself, waiting a long time. I wanted an empty nest.

Not that I wanted to get serious about a man. I had no illusions that Mr. Right was out there somewhere. Except for the imposition of marriage and motherhood I'd probably have been happy with serial lovers like one of those bohemian women writers, like Simone de Beauvoir. The window of opportunity to live my best years free and clear would start on Monday and I'd gotten myself toned and tight in preparation. I was pent up.

It was a deal I'd made with myself when he was born. I promised to be the best mother I could be and put my own needs second to Bobby's until he was fledged. Then I'd make my own rules for just myself. Especially since his deadbeat father'd left, I'd doubled down on that promise, carrying the load all by myself.

A boy child naturally wants to separate from his mother and he'd been testing limits for a few years by then. It was kinda like that Khalil Gibran poem where the parents are the bow from which the arrows that are their children are shot. There was a lot of tension and at the going away party, I figured, I'd let go and he'd fly off to who-knows-what kind of life. And we'd both be happy to put some distance between us.

I hung my raincoat on the peg and slipped off my Asics. I couldn't wait to get out of my sweaty blue scrubs and soak in a long, hot shower. Shit, I thought, the damned power outage. Having no shower was just gonna make me more disgruntled. Maybe a quickie before the tank cools.

In the half-dark dining room I stumbled over his t-shirt. Typical Bobby. Then I found another t-shirt. An unfamiliar one, too small for him, but with the name of his high school printed on it. A girl's shirt? A few feet further, a simple pink bra. On the small side. Unless Bobby was turning gay, which didn't match any evidence I'd seen, this seemed suspicious.

He was a normal horny young man, smelly and muscled and, at six-feet-two, kind of a bull in a china shop around the house. But we had a rule about bringing girls home. I'd tried to hit all the 'good mother' beats as I raised him, made him a responsible young adult and set realistic expectations. I expected him to be intimate with girlfriends, but I didn't want that in my house. What's realistic for a young man with a libido inherited from his frisky mom who'd gotten pregnant at his age?

Well, his dad was that way, too, so I could say he got it from both of us. I wasn't really surprised that he might have a girlfriend in the house, but it pissed me off. It was more about his following my rules than the sex. When I found a pair of silky girl's running shorts at the foot of the stairs and his sweats a couple of steps further up I thought I had a good picture of what was going on. Probably a girl on the track team, I surmised, perfectly normal but against the rules!

Another step up and there was a skimpy pair of pink panties. Nice lace at the edges. At least the girl had some taste. There were the noticeable signs of her arousal in the sticky gusset. So, a girl who wants my boy, I thought, not a surprise. Bobby's objectively a good looking guy.

In the shadowy stairwell I listened. Yep, the bed squeaking, rhythmic moans. An image of his runner's ass bunching while he sawed some long-legged and tanned athlete arose. My insides surprisingly said, mmmmm. My mom-brain said, whoa there, woman.

I had to stop, noticing my breath quicken and the warmth that spread in my body. Damn, I thought, don't do this. I was talking to the part of me that was drawn like metal filings to the magnetic pull of a hunky dog owner or tight-bodied handyman, despite myself. I'd kept that part at bay for five long years. It couldn't be happening when picturing my son in flagrante delicto. I won't permit it. Nope, not allowed. Stuff that, woman. I had rules, too.

So there I was halfway up the stairs and conflicted. I should have just sneaked back out of the house and driven around for a while to find an open coffee shop somewhere unaffected by the storm. I could scold him later and I would certainly make it clear again what the rules were, like a mother should. No telling what sexual adventures he'd have at school two hundred miles away, but 'not under my roof' was still the rule for his last weekend at home.

Then the girl yelled, "No, Bobby, don't put it there!"

I heard her alarm and I jumped straight into full mom-mode. Did my boy need a lesson in treating a woman right? No sister was going to be mistreated under my roof even if she didn't belong there. No means no, I'd always stressed. That was a bright red line for me. Boundaries are everything between a man and a woman. Didn't Bobby get that? I'd made that a big part of the birds and bees talk. More than once.

I strode up the stairs, took the six paces to his door in three, and with my mom hat firmly affixed, burst right into his bedroom.

Two naked teens never looked so surprised. Bobby was in missionary, push-up position, his hard body levered over the girl, his thick (I noticed) erection half buried in her wispy blond pubic hair. They froze, Bobby looking at me wide-eyed, and the scene burned into my mind. Two beautiful young people having sex in the gauzy light of his bedroom window. My mom-brain was grateful they'd put a beach towel under them. At least he was thinking about the mess and the laundry. Thinking of hiding the evidence, probably more likely.

Well, the girl looked a hell of a lot like me. There she was under him, her toned legs wrapped around his waist, straw blond hair, peachy breasts, petite and pale. So much like what I saw in my mirror. Looking back at me, too, startled, but not ashamed. Her eyes said, so what, lady? She didn't look distressed either.

I said loudly, "Are you alright? I heard shouting."

Bobby's mouth opened but no words formed. He stared at me with a look of confusion and embarrassment and interrupted lust that almost made me laugh.

The girl said, "We're just playing, June. Go away!" Then she tightened her legs around my son and I saw him sink into her. Then I froze, too. Shit, that looks good, the deep, misbehaving, impatient part of me thought. What a rude thing to say to your boyfriend's mother, though. Then she pulled on his shoulders and looked him in the eyes and literally just began humping herself up onto his organ as if to kick-start him back into motion.

"Playing?" I asked, angrily, "Playing??! The room was hot, my scrubs sticky on my skin. Bobby looked like his brain was completely offline. His body started humping the girl back. I kinda felt sorry for him, the poor horny kid. I mean, I could sympathise with being interrupted mid-coitus. It had happened to me before. But I still had the power of a mother's responsibility that had propelled me into the room. Something was wrong there. Maybe it was only that he had a girl in his bed, even if she was willing and I'd misunderstood the shouting. I had to draw the line.

I stood all of my five-foot-three-inches tall and said, "Robert Edward Hannigan, stop that this minute!"

His whole body shuddered as he plowed the girl. "Awww, mommmm..." he groaned into her shoulder. Too late, I realized that he'd been on the brink when I burst in. Her starting him up again had just brought on his orgasm. His body thrashed into hers and she held on tight. They both forgot I was there and humped away, grunting and wailing and heaving until their climaxes passed and the thrashing wound down. I watched, I admit with some embarrassment, but it all happened so fast and my naughty brain couldn't look away.

There's a kind of validation in seeing how ripped, masculine and competent your son is in bed. After all, I'd tried to tell him how important it was to focus on his woman's needs and not just his own. I could see he'd done that by the intensity of the girl's cumming. She'd clearly had a top-notch orgasm. Honestly, I was a little proud of myself. I was responsible at least in part for his being a good lover.

As his sweaty and swarthy body sank down in exhaustion onto hers, she looked at me smugly over his shoulder as if to say, this boy's mine now. I felt a pang of intense jealousy then. It surprised me. Maybe that's why we had a rule that he wasn't to talk to me about his girlfriends and to keep them out of the house. I wondered suddenly if that had been the right plan.

Was it just to keep me from those feelings? Feelings that maybe went beyond the appropriate motherly protectiveness to possessiveness, even to desire? I hadn't wanted reminders of sex during my dry spell. Did that naughty part of myself want his body for my own, too? Dang, I guess I'd done a good job of keeping those feelings sublimated. With only twenty-four hours until he would be gone and seeing him in his full male glory, did my subverted longing just finally break the surface into consciousness? My body sent me messages about its desire for him, but my mind didn't want to hear them. I stood there, hands on my hips, gawping at them while all this percolated.

It got awkward. Bobby kept his face hidden in the girl's blond hair. She stroked his shoulders affectionately, murmuring in his ear. I was rooted to the floor, feeling torn. I couldn't make my feet move to take me from the room even though I should have given them some space to compose themselves. To compose my self.

I stared at them, though, unmoving. Her long, supple limbs wrapped my boy's tanned, lean torso, she smoothed his curly hair, her foot stroked his thigh. She seemed comfortable with a man maybe twice her weight collapsed in her embrace. This woman had some experience. It slowly dawned on me that she looked familiar. I mean, not just because we shared a lot of our basic looks right down to our nail polish.

Then it hit me. "Mallory Brant?" I gasped. No wonder she'd used my name before. She was the high school women's track coach. Oh my god, I thought, he's fucking a teacher! It'll ruin her career. NO, I'll fucking ruin her career!

"You want to know what we've been playing?" the MILF looked pleased with herself. Are you good for my boy? is what I was wondering. We hardly knew each other from the few times I'd seen her at meets and when I'd picked up Bobby from practice before he drove.

"How long has this been going on?" I asked intently. Had she 'corrupted' a minor? If so, I'd have her in jail before she could get her lacy, pink panties back on.

"Cool it, June," she said, still pancaked under my collapsed boy, "We didn't start until he was eighteen and after he graduated. So keep your pants on," she smiled wickedly, "or maybe not."

I couldn't process it at all. Why would I take my pants off? This woman was only a couple of years younger than me. Then she explained, just as my brain connected the dots.

"June, we've been pretending I'm you," she chuckled. Bobby just lay there and let out a groan of embarrassment. His ass still looked very fine. "He really loves his mom, this boy does."

While I stood gobsmacked and the heat of that notion rushed through my body, she continued, "It's perfectly natural, you know. Especially with single moms and no father to bond with."

I wanted to cover my ears. I wanted to clamp down on that hot little itch in my own panties.

"For me," Mallory smiled, "I get to educate a boy of my choosing every summer and send them off to school satisfied. In fact," she stroked my son's bicep, "I'd say these momma's boys are helped immensely when they can live out their fantasies safely. It clears the libido so they can really enjoy girls their own age."

"What am I supposed to do with this information?" I thought outloud. Inside, my soul twisted around the idea that Bobby wanted me badly enough to have sex with a woman and pretend she was his mother. I stared at the sweaty broad back and curly hair of the man I'd raised. I watched him breathe, still hiding from me. At once I wanted to comfort my boy and tell him it was alright. Part of me wanted to tell him that he didn't need to pretend, that I was right there for him. Right there, my naughty brain echoed, right there where you were conceived there's a way for me to comfort you.

"Mallory, you're insane," I said. Maybe I was talking to myself. I stood in my scrubs and felt my thick nipples and the oily seep between my legs. I should have left the room and taken some time to process all this, but my bare feet remained glued to the floor.

"June, it's been a paradise for me; legal, uncomplicated, heavenly. I'd call it a public service, sending men, and a few women, off into the big world properly prepared."

It stunned me that she could lay under my son so nonchalant about being caught. Here was a woman ridiculously comfortable with her own body and its desires. Then I was envious for an entirely different reason. I wanted to be her. It sounded like she was living the life I'd been waiting for. That I'd been waiting for Bobby to leave so I could live. Damn! I was pulled in a bunch of different directions.

"Bobby, darlin'," she said, stroking his hair, "I think it's time to get off of me. You know I need to clean up." She chuckled again. "I'd say 'mommy' has to freshen up, but mommy's right here."

Slowly he levered himself up and rolled off. Their organs were red and wet and shiny. I glimpsed his cock heavy against his thigh before he cupped both hands over the package. He couldn't look at me. He said, quietly, "Mom, are you mad at me?"

Mallory brought her legs together and sat up on the edge of the bed. Yes, her breasts hung a lot like mine. My nipples were fatter, my areola darker and wider, but that's just the mark of being a mom. I was so glad to be as toned as her just then. Proud that my gym time had paid off. OMG, woman, what are you thinking? I scolded myself, Is this the time and place for that?

Mallory knew her way to the bathroom. As she slipped past me and padded down the hall I looked at my son lying there ashamed of himself, yet the embodiment of a fully grown man.

"Bobby, honey, I'm not mad at you," I said hoarsely, "This is pretty weird and it sure isn't what I was expecting today. I should scold you about breaking the rules, but under the circumstances there are deeper issues to think about."

He pushed himself up off of the bed, smiling then and suddenly confident, towering over me, wrapped me in a bearhug. "I'm sorry," he whispered into my hair. My cheek scrubbed in his chest hairs and his slack package pushed into my navel. Stupidly, I thought about the stain it would leave on my scrubs and wanted to admonish him.

It reminded me of when he was small and ran to me for comfort, hugging my legs and pressing his snotty face in my skirts. Now he was tall and the thought of him with his face in my skirts gave me a fluttery feeling.

"Honey, you're naked..." I couldn't bring myself to return the hug. But it was a fight to resist. My body wanted to feel his broad, muscled back along my bare arms. I understood myself to be approaching a precipice. It was wrong to be encircled in my naked son's strong arms but it was so OK, too. My body vibrated, in sync with his animal energy. It was dizzying.

It would hurt his feelings if I left the room. Anyway, that's what I told myself. After all, I'd seen him naked plenty as a child. But he wasn't a child anymore for damn sure. I stood stiffly while he held me. It had been a long time since I'd had a full body hug, since my breasts had been mashed up against a man.

And the longer he held me the harder it became to leave.

"I've imagined this so much," he said, "I guess it feels natural now. It feels good, mom, not weird."

"No, Bobby, it's weird, really weird." I didn't dare say it felt good. But it did.

Finally he uncoiled his arms and let me go. But he just held my shoulders and looked in my eyes, standing inches away, naked as the day he was born, sticky cock dangling. I could feel his heat. I could feel my own heat. His fingers, even through the thin scrubs, triggered pulses down to my sex. I felt vertigo looking back into his intense gaze.

"I can't believe this is happening at last," he sighed, such a happy smile on his face.

"What's 'this', Bobby?"

"You and me."

"You and me, what?" The part of me that had the urge to rip off my scrubs knew what. The part of me with the remaining shreds of motherly responsibility didn't want to know.

Then Mallory returned looking a little less like she'd just been well fucked, but still pink and naked and self possessed. "So... the mother and child reunion is only a heartbeat away, right?"

"This ain't no pop song, Mallory. It's un-flippin'-natural."

"You know Steve Reilly and his mom Charlene?"

"He's two years ahead of Bobby."

'Yeah, and I helped those two hook up." She looked proud of herself standing there frankly nude and unashamed of what I'd caught them doing. Like sex was just a thing you do when you want to do it with whoever you want to do it with. Was this a vision of myself after the going away party, living the life I'd been dreaming of?

Could I remember how it felt to be naked with a man, to let my body feel all it was capable of feeling? Would I soon be with a man and proudly share my nipples like fruit, my wet sex like an ice cream sundae? Could all that pent up longing be realized as naturally as I saw my double doing it?

I pried myself out of Bobby's grip and sat on his bed. I ran my hand over the terrycloth of the beach towel and realized it was probably Mallory's idea. She'd been teaching him a lot, apparently. I looked up and they stood with their arms around each other, my boy tall and well formed, lean and hard, his muscled body an imposing presence in that small bedroom. The walls still held band posters and a shelf of his track trophies, layers of his childhood all around us. I imagined it as a skin he'd shed in the dark while I wasn't looking.

Mallory leaned her head on his chest and stood so casually in the nude. So this is what I'd look like naked with Bobby, I mused, they look happy. I had the impulse to lay back on the bed and once again feel the thrill of a man drawn to my body, holding himself over me as I opened myself to him, surrendering to the pleasure of what comes naturally.

I shook myself and said, "Wait, you don't look anything like Charlene Timmerson."

"I made myself a brunette that summer and wore the frumpiest clothes. It was enough for Steve," she smiled fondly, "You two are a special case. I didn't have to do much but dress a little sexier."

"Yeah, mom, without my contacts I can't really tell the difference," Bobby grinned at me. "I helped her pick out some clothes like yours, too."

There was something unsettling about my son using this woman like a dress-up doll. But to dress her as a fake me? And he thought I wore sexy clothes? I felt flattered, actually. Had that naughty part of me been teasing its attraction to him all this time? Was I at fault for his misbehavior? Did I unconsciously make him this horny, I thought, Should I feel guilty, make amends?

"This is really confusing," I said honestly, "I should punish you somehow..."

Mallory said, "June, stop being such a mom."

I looked at the two of them, clearly at ease with themselves and the situation. Bobby had a look of eager anticipation and Mallory exuded confidence. They should have been mortified.

"June, you've done a fantastic job of making Bobby a good man. I wouldn't have picked him if I thought he was a jerk," she ran her hand down his arm and held his hand. "This guy just needed to put theory into practice and I really just finished the job you started."

"Well, that's something," I chuckled, feeling that jealousy again. Mallory reached to take Bobby's meaty cock in her hand and my fingers twitched. I could remember hefting a package like that, feeling the warmth and the life in it.

"Think of it like any other sport," my doppelganger said, "You can read all about running, but you don't know how to actually run until you put one foot in front of the other and get moving."

Of course a track coach would think like that, I thought, Just another training program for young people. It occurred to me that the trial and, mostly, error method that taught me about sex hadn't gone that well. It made sense to be taught by an experienced person. Jeez, maybe I'd really let my boy down by just giving him the talk and hoping he'd fumble his way through his real sexual education, probably disappointing the girls he'd been experimenting with.

"Now he's going to make a lot of girls very happy," said Mallory, finishing my thought. My brain fizzed. Instead of pretending that sex was something that only happened somewhere else and not wanting to hear about it, maybe I should have let him bring girls home all along and answered questions if he had them. Maybe, if I had wanted him to be competent and to protect other women from disappointment, I should have given him better instruction. Maybe I owed it to my sisters to send a good lover into the world. That logic shook my fizzing brain. I was about to pop like a bottle of champagne.

"I really want to be the best lover I can be at college, mom," Bobby said, standing with his hip cocked and his swelling organ in Mallory's hand. I stared at it thickening. Oh, God, I trembled inside, I could be an even better mother by breaking all the rules...

That deal I'd made with myself about being the best mother until he was fully fledged? Was he fully fledged? Had I prepared him the best I could? Maybe not, after all. Mallory had needed to step in to finish the job. I only had twenty-four hours to get it right. After the going away party he'd be out of my hands.

My hands... they itched to touch him. My mouth watered to kiss him, to kiss him from top to toes. My clothes felt tight in the hot room. My bare feet rubbed in the carpet. I looked up at them, suddenly vulnerable. Mallory had said 'I hooked those two up', about that other mother and son. It was do-able is what I heard.

"Stand up, mom," Bobby said. Mallory held out her other hand with such a kind smile on her face. I wondered why I'd thought she had an attitude. Must have been my jealousy. But I wasn't just jealous now so much as hungry, feverish with the idea that I hadn't finished my job and I had to get it right. And here was a hunk of a sexy man in front of me who also happened to be my son. Or my son who happened to be a hunky, sexy man.

"You really think your old mother's sexy?" I asked.

"I want to see you with your clothes off, mom," he said calmly. There was a confident adult lover in the room, I realised. This wasn't the little Bobby that cluttered up my house and my memory. I didn't know this man. I could imagine he was someone I'd just met, someone passionate and strong and who desired me. A man named Robert that I'd brought home to my nest.

I gave myself permission to think that and my body responded without restraint. It liked that idea. The mom in me took a seat and sat back to watch. To watch me teach my son his final lesson at my own hands.

Yes, those itchy hands reached for the hem of my scrubs top and pulled it up. I offered a woman to my son that he hadn't known either. In my eyes I hoped he saw love and respect alongside wanting. I dropped my top and stood there for a moment feeling the step I'd just taken. My son's eyes followed my curves. Their intensity sizzled where he looked along the edges of my simple white bra. The stiffening nipples pulled my breast flesh tight. I knew he could see them tenting the thin fabric that held them.

He looked where the scrub pants hung on my hips. It made my belly itch. Suddenly my clothes seemed too constricting. I didn't want to hide myself from him anymore, but to share it all. I didn't want to tell him to be a good sex partner and cross my fingers that he'd get it right, but to uncross my legs and show him exactly how it's done.

I reached behind and unclasped my bra, looking him hard in the eyes, pausing. There I saw his longing and his love, his hunger and his happiness. It's always heartwarming to make your child happy. And maybe that was the last push I needed: to know that I would fulfill my purpose in this, the last most intimate lesson I could give him and make him happy.

He looked enchanted. Mallory faded into the background. Maybe she sat on the bed - my attention was on the electric sizzle between Robert and me. This Robert guy that I imagined bringing home was tall and lean. He had a big dick. It was half-hard, hanging there as he watched me undress. It raised its head with interest when I slipped the bra from my body.

I kept my shoulders back and brought my fingers to the tie on my scrub pants. Robert stared at my breasts, the animal in him alight in his eyes. There was a remembered male wolfishness there. His hands clenched, his breath growled from his chest.

I felt like a girl again, a little shy even as my appetite grew. Here was a big man and I would surrender to him. I wanted to be wanted. I wanted to be appreciated.

"Can I touch?" He asked. Good boy, I thought proudly, asking for consent.

I simply smiled up at him and pushed my breasts forward, watching his big hands rise. He put out one finger and touched a nipple. The tingle ran down to my sex. I sighed. Robert put a fingertip on the other nipple and I trembled. Then he cupped each breast and oh, so gently squeezed, the look of delight in his eyes enough to melt me.

His cock had risen fully and its heat warmed the space between us. Then he put his hands on my shoulders again. I thought he might push me to my knees and I realized that I would happily do that. I'd happily slip down to eye-level with his cock and give my boy whatever pleasure I could.

But he turned me around and pulled my body against his. That cock lay in the channel of my spine and his hands engulfed my breasts. I felt the heat of his skin from my calves to my shoulder blades. I put the palms of my hands on his coarse, hairy thighs. He kissed the part in my hair, his lips on my scalp a strange intimacy.

Mallory appeared in front of me, smiling impishly, confident and intent. Robert wrapped a hand around each of my breasts and squeezed them into cones, their hard nipples projecting sharply. His lover leaned in and took one in her teeth. I felt my insides melt.

"I haven't been with a woman," I said, tremulously. This is all kinds of wrong, I thought, but damn that feels good.

"I have," she said, moving to suck at the other nipple, "so just relax and enjoy..."

I stared at her mouth on my breast. So different from the scratchy, eager touch of a man's, her's was soft and slow and tender. It was as if my image had stepped out of the mirror and begun playing with me. I'd played with myself plenty but this was surreal. My double knew just how to tease me into delirium. Her tongue, wet and hot, moved slowly around the bumpy flesh, sucking gently. She let her teeth scrape ever so lightly.

I felt Robert's cock pulse against my spine. I reached to untie my scrubs, suddenly impatient. If I'm going to hell I might as well enjoy the ride, I thought as the fabric fell away and pooled at my feet. The simple cotton panties that I got in a ten-pack from Costco weren't as sexy as Mallory's. That thought slipped away quickly when she knelt and gingerly pulled the waistband down.

Thank God I trimmed yesterday, I thought, and chuckled inside at the growing irrelevance of my jealousy and self consciousness, whipped away when Mallory lay her tongue on my mons and drilled through my fur to my skin. I quivered as she moved downward seeking my cleft, the fleshy nub nestled in the petals of my sex.

With Robert's arms pinning me to his chest, I just let her search and let my body rise in pleasure. She nuzzled and probed and I spread my legs to let her in. Electricity shot through me when she found my clit. My knees wobbled. I whimpered.

"Your mom's practically dripping," Mallory said, licking her lips and diving in again.

I felt every flex of Robert's muscles against my back, the binding of his corded arms, the scratch of his hair. He smelled of sex and sweat and it brought back memories of surrender and pleasure in a man's arms. That long wait was finally over. Before I surrendered completely and the mom in me was entirely subsumed by the wanton, I said, "I think I'd like a shower first." Also, I wanted to take this out of Bobby's room and into mine where the grownups belonged.

"Is there enough hot water?" Robert asked, impatiently.

"Let's be quick, honey, and make the best of what's left in the tank," I said, "maybe both of us together?"

I squealed when he picked me up and carried me to the bathroom. "Mallory," I said over his shoulder, "could you give us a minute. Meet us in my bedroom?"

She got it, experienced seductress that she was proving to be. I had to respect her poise amidst the passion. I wanted to be that person.

Robert set me down on the bathmat and cranked on the hot water. I admired his body in the time it took to get warm. A man. Yes, he was a man with a masculine poise of his own, comfortable naked with me, his cock ardent, his smile familiar and unselfconscious. The short pelt of dark hair I hadn't appreciated before. The youthful glow of his skin drawn smooth over those lean muscles called my hands to his body.

He stood looking both hungry and a little giddy as I ran my fingers across his flesh. I suppose this was the best going away present he probably hadn't even dared to imagine receiving. I was going to enjoy the giving.

The water hot, we shut the shower door and he grabbed the soap as I let the jets soak me. Quickly he lathered me all over. His broad slippery hands touched every inch of me, starting with my jawline, trailing over my collar bones, cupping my breasts, sawing in my armpits, quickly down to my crotch. He knelt, taking up every last inch of the space and tenderly soaped my thighs and down to my toes.

Robert, under the steamy cascade, looked up questioningly when his slick fingers had made their way back up to my sex. I nodded and he ran those fingers along my labia. He was gentle and brisk at the same time. I quivered at the thought of my son touching me there. The momentousness of that touch was masked only slightly by the task at hand. He was cleaning me, not fingering me to arousal, we could pretend, somewhere short of complete abandon to our carnal desires.

But we weren't really fooling ourselves either. It was a powerful moment in the noise and the steam of the shower. Feeling his knuckles drag in the slipperiness between my legs made me weak in the knees.

"Let me do you, quickly," I said and held out my hand for the soap.

Then I mapped his body with my hands, running them over every swell and knot of his muscular frame. He stood grinning, enjoying his mother's exploration. Like he had done, I saved his most sensitive and intimate parts for last. I stood wet in front of him, the shower water just beginning to cool, and soaped his balls. His cock stood tall. One hand cupped his sack and squished in the suds, the other wrapped around his shaft and tenderly stroked.

Robert growled deep in his chest and bent over. His hands found my shoulders.

"Gawd, mom," he groaned, watching me cleanse him. The white foam dripped from both of us. The shower turned tepid and we stayed that way as long as we could. It had been too long since I'd held a vital, living, throbbing man in my hands.

But we were forced out by the chilling water, sluiced off the soap and grabbed towels. Clumsily we tried to dry each other at the same time and laughed together, both of us giddy with what we were about to do.

In my bedroom we found Mallory lounging on the king-sized bed, still naked, still looking bemused at us, still the knowing and masterful older woman. I still had a girlish nervousness.

Besides getting buff in preparation for my empty nest I'd bought the big bed and put mirrored doors on my closets. I liked watching myself. Don't judge. I had gotten myself off before imagining watching a man take me in the mirrors. So here we stood with eight feet of reflected boudoir. And three fine looking naked people about to put on a show.

We all hovered for a moment on the precipice. I took a deep breath - so many first times about to happen. I looked at Mallory for guidance. She slipped to her knees at Robert's feet. So I joined her.

Mallory took his erection in one hand and said, "I've been lying here thinking what an amazing prowess you're giving him, June." I must have looked puzzled. "Not too many freshmen are capable of satisfying two women at once. He'll be in great demand with a certain crowd of high-libido females."

"Like us," I said. I guess I was flattered. I was also staring at that cock in front of my face. I'd had my hands on it for a few precious minutes.

I put my hand around hers and pulled him down, leaned in and ran my tongue around the rim. I held Robert's eyes. He may have thought he was hallucinating his mother with his cock in her mouth as dazed as he appeared. A silvery drop oozed from him and I lapped it. I smiled while I savored it, still looking up with adoration at my man, the man I made inside me all those years ago and that I was going to finish today.

"That's beautiful," said Mallory, taking him from me and easing her lips over the crown. Why did I drop to my knees so readily? I think because I wanted him to feel the adoration I felt, the worshipful feeling a woman can get in the presence of a well-tempered man. To see how proud I was of him. I didn't want to rush to the final act, the final taboo, either. Maybe it was a little selfish, too, because I wanted to make it last.

We women had a little more control this way, ironically, on our knees. More control of the speed and the depth and the friction. Mallory knew that, too, it was clear as we shared him back and forth. We went slow.

I got to know his unique bullet shape, the curve of his cock, the corded veins and spider-tracery of blood vessels under the sliding velvet foreskin. It gave my pussy time to lubricate, too. Because I wanted him, my insides grew slick and softer as my own blood suffused the tissues, swelling them, making me ready to receive that wide, meaty organ of his.

"I've been training him to prolong things," Mallory said, then ran her tongue the length of him to pop the head in her mouth.

"Yeah, we did it three times in six hours the other day, mom," he said, proudly, hands on hips.

"Do you keep a spreadsheet of your progress?" I chuckled, "Like with track?"

"Nah, just in my head... unghhh," he gasped when I took him in my mouth again and rolled his spit-slick balls in my fingers. We kept on with the cock worship for a while. I stole glances at the mirrors, pleased with my home improvement. We three looked really fine in the light filtering in through the window. Two slim, blond nymphs kneeling, attending to our satyr, his prong lovingly stroked and sucked, our asses curved, our breasts jiggling, the sounds of satisfaction our melody.

"I want to show you something Mallory taught me, mom," Robert said, stroking my hair, "will you lay on the bed, please?"

I cocked an eyebrow at the woman and she smiled and said, "Yep, he's always that polite." I beamed with pride. I sat on the edge of my bed demurely. Robert got on his knees in front of me and put his hands on my thighs. Then Mallory added, "Just so you know, this is all about you two. I'm not expecting you to pleasure me, but I'll help him pleasure you unless you tell me to stop."

I shuddered at the thought. I hadn't been with two lovers before, either. I let my legs relax and Robert pulled them apart, inclining his body over me. He put a hand on a breast and gave it a gentle stroke. Then he pushed me back and down onto the bed. His mouth found a nipple. His cock rubbed my thigh and I clenched inside. Inches from my sex, it left a wet, warm spot.

Robert slowly kissed all across my breasts, leaving a trail, staying to suckle one nipple, then the other while I got hotter and friskier. Oh it was good to feel that energy again, to be abandoned to the natural pull of one body to another. Obviously it's not the same with toys or your own fingers. And now I had the attention of twenty fingers, two mouths, two tongues.

Mallory ran her hand across my belly where Robert arched over me. She teased at the peachfuzz of my happy trail, tickled my navel, smeared his spit on the nipple he wasn't sucking. She ran her nails the length of my torso and scratched in my pubes, staying short of my pussy. Leaving that for my man, I supposed.

Robert slowly followed her fingers down, down, down until he smiled up from between my legs. He licked his lips and kissed my inner thigh, then the other, moving ever so gradually toward my center. I spread wide to help him. Mallory took a nipple in her teeth like before and I didn't stop her.

I began to feel like that bow that would send my son into that who-knows-what life. The tension built with each little lick and nip of teeth. I could smell my own arousal then, musky and hot. My labia itched to be under his tongue. His chin scraping along behind it only made the sensation stronger.

I looked wide eyed at Mallory, "This is what you taught him?" I gasped.

She just smiled and lowered her mouth to mine. Like completing a circuit I discovered a sensation I didn't know there was a switch for. Girl kisses were special. Like on my nipples, her mouth was tender and soft and warm. She glided her lips across mine gently and I relaxed into the feeling.

Then Robert ran his tongue along my vulva and I grunted into the kiss. I felt her mouth smile. He still took his time working his way to my clit. And my clit was screaming for attention by then. But his tongue had plenty to do finding all the folds and seams of my vulva, tasting my thick cream.

Robert eased an arm under my leg and lay a big hand on my breast. Mallory stroked the other while we kissed. My sense of self drifted with all the sensations flooding me. I simply received without judgement. Every probe and lick of his tongue made me quiver. My nipples felt tight enough to pop. Mallory's mouth, warm and teasing, hovered over mine.

I wondered if cunnilingus was anything like this. I imagined my tongue along her lips as if it was exploring her pussy. They were wet and warm and yielding. I dragged my tongue like Robert was and she moaned into me. When he circled my clit's hood I ran my tongue in a little circle at the corner of her mouth. Salty and sweet and with the texture of the little hairs on her lip. Maybe I'll find out later what a real pussy tastes like, I thought with a shiver.

I lay like a heap of tinder-dry firewood. Robert finally put his tongue where my body wanted it to be. He made a rapid, gentle rhythm on my clit and I peaked, grabbing his hair, snapping my legs around his head, holding that match head tongue to my matchbox clit.

I went up in flames. I burned fierce and hot for a long minute. My body quaked and stiffened as I arched over the mattress until the seizure passed and I sank to a burnt out jumble in the sheets.

And like the Phoenix I rose from the ashes a new woman. I was on fire with my new role; teacher, mentor, guide. "Now you lay down on the bed," I said, releasing him from my scissored legs. I rolled up onto my hands and knees, feeling the cool air on my wet pussy, feeling the pulse of my blood in those swollen tissues. Mallory sat back to watch, letting me take the lead.

On his back, face slick from licking me, Robert smiled in curious anticipation. I put a hand on each meaty pectoral and swung my leg over his torso. His cock twitched where it lay on his belly under my dripping sex. I looked him in the eyes with love and lust both.

Mallory reached between us and levered his cock up. She rubbed the knob along my wet vulva. Ohhh, God, I thought, all I have to do is drop an inch and we'll cross that final boundary. Was it honest to let Mallory be the agent of our coupling? Should I have grasped him in my own hand and been the one to merge our bodies? Maybe it doesn't matter because it was just what I wanted anyway.

When she had his tip at my threshold I pushed down and back and felt his thickness spread me open. I sensed the flesh stretch around him, hot and itchy. The last time his body had crossed that threshold hadn't been so pleasant. Maybe society should allow this mother and child reunion as a kind of payback? I thought, Sons repaying their mothers with pleasure for the gift of their birth.

I'd say the score was already even and I was going to take eighteen years of accrued interest payments from there on out. Whatever... it made it easy to slide down his slick pole until our pubes tangled. I watched his eyes the whole descent and saw them go from delight to smoldering lust. I'd never seen him happier.

I'd never seen him more a man. I balanced on the slab of his chest and began to ride him. He put his hands on my waist and just felt me rise and fall, getting my rhythm, keeping my lust at a simmer, aiming for another conflagration. I put my hands on his and gloried in the filling and unfilling of my body, in the spikes of pleasure that came with his girth and length. All those sumo squats were paying off.

My breasts held his attention, swaying with our dance. He couldn't keep his eyes off the deep red nipples. I took one of his hands and lay it on my breast, keeping mine on his to feel his fingers pinch, to help him apply the right pressure, to squeeze my peaches just so.

Mallory said, as she eased one leg over Robert's head, "May I join you?" His face disappeared under her furry mons, "Let's help him learn to multitask, OK?" I smiled my assent.

"This is another way to prolong things, Bobby," she told him, "You can't give full attention to both of us, but you can give enough." He mumbled something into her crotch and she giggled. "You lick me like I showed you and let your mom handle the rest."

Watching Mallory gyrate her hips minutely on my son's mouth, I wondered if I would look exactly like that. I wondered if we looked like twins giving some lucky guy the afternoon of his life, fulfilling two male fantasies at once. Well, one of them wasn't a fantasy anymore. Robert was having hot sex with his mother for sure. Dammit, now I've got Tina in bed with us, I thought, surprising myself. Again. My sister wouldn't ever go for something like this... would she?

The mirror versions of us in that dim room helped that fantasy. I watched two blond, very fit vixens taking their pleasure from one beefy man. Giving pleasure, too, of course. Let's say that we experienced women were showing my son how to manage a good afternoon in bed. We taught him how to take and give at the same time. How to embrace his fantasies and let the fantasies make the sex even better.

In the mirror it was like watching one of those well made erotic videos, say from X-Art or Young Libertines. The evening light shafting through the windows limned us in a soft glow. It tempered each of us, maybe made Mallory and I look younger, but it also helped me to see Robert as older, his reflection as agile and adept as those adult industry men. We moved with grace.

I sank into the pleasure of a fat cock deep in my body again. I liked his shape, the pointed head slipped in easily and the ever fatter shaft stuffed me fuller with each inch of my descent. Then I rotated the slightest to feel his thickness sweep my insides, sending an electric pulse outward.

Sweat dripped. My hair stuck to my forehead. We slid together in our own juices. I leaned toward Mallory and she took my head in her hands and kissed me. More passionately this time, more urgently.

Tentatively, I put my hand on her breast, I felt the hard nub of nipple rake my palm and she sighed into the kiss. My mouth watered to take a nipple between my teeth. I hadn't touched another woman sexually before. Curiosity filled me. What would that spongy breastflesh feel like to my tongue? Could I make her shiver by chewing on a berry-like teat?

I broke the kiss reluctantly and eased down. I lifted one breast to get at the nipple and very gently parted my lips to taste it. I ventured a tentative lick. Then again. She sighed and I sucked the nipple deeper, worked over it with my mouth, letting it lay on my tongue so I could experience the heat and the texture of another woman's flesh for the first time.

Then I thought about how aroused my mouth was. That it was as hungry as my pussy for something to taste, something to devour. Yes, my pussy could taste my son's cock in its own way. It could feel the velvet skin like my mouth did. It could feel stuffed and stretched like my mouth felt with Mallory's teat sucked into it.

Then my naughty brain thought of taking two men at once, taking a cock in each end, sucking til they erupted their thick cream into me. I can't say these were new thoughts but they'd never been aided by the feel of flesh filling me like this. Maybe it made it easier to enjoy the Sapphic pleasures of this woman if I imagined she was a man. Her confidence and assertiveness helped with that.

I drifted on that fantasy for a while until my legs got tired. Time to be more passive.

"Honey, I need to switch it up," I said and regretfully dragged my clinging pussy along his cock until we slipped free. The emptiness was nearly painful. My body wanted him back. I got up on my knees and put my shoulders down on the bed.

Mallory followed my lead and took the same posture beside me. She took my hand in hers and said, looking warmly at me, "Welcome to the sisterhood."

As Robert knelt behind me and pulled my cheeks apart I groaned, "Hhrrr... it's the next damned level of sisterhood, girl," I gasped as his cock spread me again, "and thanks," I said.

Then Robert set the pace and I just let him slide his beautiful rod deep into me. I let him slap his hips up against my ass and let the sweat fly. My breasts, mashed into the bedspread, sent a jolt through me each time they were ground down by his thrusts. The coarse hairs on his thighs rasping on my soft skin thrilled. The swing of his balls against my clit drove me upward. Mallory looked pleased with herself, watching us get more animal by the minute. By then every time he smacked into me I grunted out my pleasure. Grunting and groaning, we sang our mating song.

"Don't worry, mom, I'll be right back," Robert said, and I felt empty again. Mallory gasped and smiled, squeezing my hand hard - he'd pushed his cock into her. She shut her eyes and began fingering herself. I watched a woman rise quickly toward release. She bit her lower lip and muttered, "ohmygod... ohymgod... ohmygod..." with each forceful impalement.

Did I look this crazed in ecstacy? Was I contorted and growling and sweaty and frantic? Looking up at Robert over my shoulder he seemed swept up in the passion, too. I didn't recognize my boy in him. There he was, all man with his muscles corded and sweat pouring off of him. I watched him drive a woman over the top.

Mallory screamed into the bedspread and went stiff all over. Shudders ran through her slim body, her face down in the tangle of her hair, her toes curling. What an amazing thing to be a part of. An honor, really, to be trusted when all the defenses are down and two people are at their most vulnerable.

I wanted more of that. That's when I began thinking about the future. After my son's going away party and my nest was truly empty, what would I fill it with? What would I fill my bed with, my body with? I began to imagine the possibility of filling myself with more than one at a time now and then.

I looked up at Robert with respect, "You haven't cum yet?"

He looked especially pleased, "Naw, I've been practicing not to."

"Lots of practice," murmured Mallory into the bed. My son had slowed to a stop and knelt behind her, fingers splayed across her ass, still embedded, just gently rocking, catching his breath.

I raised up and lay my cheek on her rump. Even with my pussy calling out for filling and my every sinew crying for the same release I'd just seen, I wanted to try something else I hadn't done before. I wanted to taste another woman's juices. Maybe I was being a little round about with it but I opened my mouth and looked at Robert. He didn't need to be told what to do.

My man pulled his dripping cock from the woman and it sprang up purple and slick. He leaned in and I bent my neck, mouth open, tongue out, watching the delight in his eyes. The tip projected from his tight foreskin, shiny and hot. When it touched my tongue I pressed my mouth down. His wet shaft spread my lips tight.

I savored Mallory on my man's shaft, her sweet and sour and thick cream. My mouth watered hard and I swallowed. Robert's eyes got big and he shook. I could tell he was close, too, despite his practice.

"God, that's good, mom," he whispered, "Are you ready to finish?"

"I want to look you in the eyes when we do," I said. I knew I could make him cum right then, but, call me old fashioned, I wanted as much of my body wrapped around his as possible when we finally took it to the end. "It's missionary time," I said and let his cock drop from my lips. Then I rolled onto my back and spread my legs, reaching between them to welcome him on top of me.

It was an enchanted moment. We were far beyond mother and child and into the full trust and abandon of mature adult lovemaking. Maybe the incest made it spicier, but the act itself was whole and wholesome because we were two grownups who loved each other. I remembered another part of that poem about parents and children: Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

Fuck, yeah...

I looked down to watch him aim his cock. In his fist it looked long, it looked choked, it looked like an instrument of pleasure that he'd learned to wield with confidence and poise. The tip touched my vulva and I began panting. I saw the sense of transport in his eyes and knew that I'd made him unbelievably happy. The joy I felt as his knob pressed into me was a strong echo of the joy I felt at this birth. It was the same kind of indescribable, overwhelming sense of connection and commitment that I'd felt then.

Just like at his birth, I wasn't expecting the intensity and the power of that connectedness - unplanned, unwilled, it simply asserted itself. You will love this child, it commanded. And I did. And I will continue to do so, driven both by motherly instinct and a lover's bond.

I watched each millimeter of his thick meat slide between my wet, red, swollen labia to stretch me full again. I could see my son's excitement and the effort he made to keep from cumming right then. He moved slowly and he stared into my eyes. Maybe he was remembering how he'd become infatuated with my body, the glimpsed breast, the gym rat shorts and the sweaty cling of my sports bra. I could remember how I'd spent so much time making myself desirable, without realizing it was him doing the desiring. Now the woman who'd hidden her own desires even from herself was in full charge of this body and giving it unreservedly to him.

Mallory lay beside us gently massaging her sex, just coming gently down from what my son's cock had done to her. Smiling and sleepy, she seemed content to watch. I whispered, "Thank you..." to her as Robert's body came down entirely on mine. It was good to be crushed under him. My breasts were mashed into his chest hairs, the nipples on fire with the friction. He worked his arms under my back and curled his fingers around my shoulders so he could pull me down onto his cock with each thrust. He ground me into the mattress with his hips.

I wrapped his shoulders with my arms, his hips with my legs, curling my body up to make the best angle with his pistoning body.

"Let it go, son, let it go," I sighed into his ear, thinking of that arrow about to be shot, feeling like a tight-strung bow about to release. I pulled his head back to look into his eyes as his passion mounted with each forceful thrust. My clit got hammered. His in and out got faster and his eyes stayed riveted to mine, his love and passion both simple and profound. Yes, he loved his mother. But it was a grown up love now, one cemented in the kind of trust that lovers gain when they share their bodies and become something larger than themselves.

My insides began to clench around his cock and he convulsed. His hot seed made our union even more slippery. He pounded and shot that white, bubbly cream deep into me. With each pulse of semen he held his organ deep, then recoiled and did it again. And with each pulse my body filled with flames.

I clung with steel-banded arms to that heaving and absorbed his force and his spunk. Each thrust set off a wave of joy in me. My whole body clenched as if to absorb him entirely back into itself. Maybe we became one being for a while as he thrashed himself into me until the pulses diminished and his body relaxed. His arms shook. Then he collapsed on top of me like he had with Mallory when I first came into the room.

My vagina gripped and milked his cock, squeezing the last juicy gobs out. A man was born that day. The contractions were fucking amazing this time.

We'd worn the poor man out with our bodies. He fell asleep in my arms, crushing me into the mattress. I loved it. I felt protected, too. I felt loved.

I looked across at Mallory, her satisfaction evident on her sleepy face. I began to drift into dreamland, too. But I had to ask her...

"You said you pick a different boy every summer. Would you say there's enough candidates that I could get in on that action?"

"Mmmm, yeah, there's always more guys than I can handle. You'll have to wait till May, though, you know." Her eyes closed.

"I'm guessing this guy might need some remedial classes by Thanksgiving break, don't you?"

But she was already gone. I lay there completely satiated, wrapped in the heavy body of my darling man and sank into dreams of the months to come.