How I Became My Son's Girlfriend

Authors note:

This is a standalone story I wrote while particularly inspired, just to do something different between episodes of my current series. It is a bit of a slowburn but it does have a steamy conclusion. If you are here just for the fireworks, just flip the pages and ctrl+f for the world EXCELSIOR.

Happy Reading ;)

No-Ca.

---

"How about this one?" I pull out a flowery white dress from the rack. Not the most elegant, but it looks like a decent compromise between fashion and comfort. "What do you think, Erik? Erik?"

My son looks away absentmindedly, which is weird. Usually, he is happy to accompany me while I go shopping for new clothes.

"You okay, honey?"

"Mmm? What?" He looks down at me with a forced smile. Sometimes, I can hardly believe how tall he has gotten. "Sorry, I was just... You wanna buy that one?"

"Maybe. Why? You don't like it? Does the white fatten me?"

He shrugs. "It's cute, I guess."

He is hiding something. Trouble with Mindy, I bet.

"Mmm." I put the flowery dress back on the rack. "How about we take a break and get some gelato?"

His forced smile becomes less so. My sweet boy has a sweet tooth.

Halfway to the gelato shop, Erik freezes in place, like he just saw an angel or a ghost. I follow his gaze to the window of a high-end store. The kind I used to visit when I was still married, rich, and miserable.

The mannequin behind the glass wears the most beautiful dress I've seen all summer. Seafoam green--not my usual color, but gorgeous all the same. It rolls around her synthetic curves like a wave. The waist, cinched with a braided gold band, adds an elegant touch of restraint. But the neckline? No restraint there.

Worse yet, she's posed with her hips slightly cocked, one hand on her waist, and her head tilted just so. She's taunting me, that fiberglass bitch.

"You like that one, Mom?" Erik asks me, with a mocking grin.

"What? No," I lie. "It's not for me."

"Why not?" He stares at me up and down, probably imagining how silly I would look in that. "It's fucking perfect."

"Language." I riposte. Oh, how he enjoys teasing me.

I don't know... It would probably look good on one of those curvy Latinas he likes so much. But me? No way. Sure, I got the hips. Got the breasts too. Plenty of those ever since I gave birth. The confidence, though? I lost that five years ago. Part of the divorce settlement.

"Come on, let's go in and give it a try."

Before I can say no, Erik practically drags me inside the store. Might as well indulge him. At least I will take his mind off of Mindy for a while.

I hang my clothes on the rack and prepare to stand this harrowing test. I manage to pull the dress all the way up, which already feels like an unexpected victory. Getting my tits to fit is a different matter altogether, though. Damn it, it won't close!

"Mom, what's taking so long?" Erik calls out.

"Hey, I'm the one who's got a date. Remember?" That shut him up. Always the jealous type. "I don't think it will fit. I'll need a bigger size."

"What? Bullshit." He comes in, giving me half a heart attack.

"Here, I'll give you a hand."

I was not ready for him to walk in like that. To him I am always his mom, but he... Well, he is a man now. I should say something--Shouldn't I? I mean, I don't want to make him feel unwanted only because I feel uneasy.

"Almost there..."

It's okay, Claire. It's just Erik. Your son. You've known him half your life. He doesn't mean anything by this, and neither should you.

"There you go."

He gestures toward the mirror, clearly pleased with himself. And with reason.

I'm... not hating what I see.

The fabric clings in ways I didn't expect. It skims my waist, floats gently over my hips--like it knows the path, like it's been here before. The seafoam catches the light, just enough shimmer to give the idea of luxury without falling into opulence. The gold band matches my hair--and my current mood too. It makes me look slimmer, and thank God for that. It feels like... wearing a compliment I didn't ask for but needed to hear.

It definitely shows enough leg, one of the few things about me I genuinely like. If only my butt were not so big.

Then there's my chest... oh, my chest. That neckline really does not hold back. The dress dips low, framing the swell of me and leaving little to the imagination. I haven't shown this much skin in years. God, my skin. July is in full swing, but I am still as pale as March.

"I can't wear this," I say.

"Why not?" He sounds scandalized. "It slaps!"

"I'm trying too hard."

"No, no, no! You look unreal." He chuckles, so confident. "Seriously, if I would... feel so lucky just for standing next to you."

As much as I hate to admit it, I needed to hear that. I smile at him, and he smiles back.

"Ma'am. Sorry, ma'am!" the store clerk calls from outside. "Only one person in the changing booth at a time. Store policy."

"It's okay!" I call back, a little too fast. "He's my son."

There's a beat of silence.

"Sounds fake as fuck, Mom," Erik mutters under his breath, biting back a grin.

"Shut up." I swat him on the arm, flustered and overheating. "Come on, help me out of this before I rip it."

"Can't you just wear it?" He casually suggests.

"You like it that much?" I try to tease him back for once, and make a fool of myself in doing so.

"I really do," my sweet boy says, as earnest as he can be. "Tell you what. If you keep it on, I'll pay for gelato."

A few minutes later, we walk out of the mall with our cones. Yoghurt for me, pistachio for him. Despite my insistence, he did pay for it. Pretty sweet, considering the minuscule allowance I give him.

Outside, the July sun is blazing. Fortunately this thing is... very well ventilated, perfect for a warm summer evening. I just wish it did not also turn so many heads.

"See? I told you, you look great." Erik reassures me, and I roll my eyes.

"I'm glad you like it, because I burned all of our budget for food deliveries for this month. Possibly for the rest of summer."

"Totally worth it," he snickers.

Were he not my son, I would believe he is flirting with me. But that doesn't matter. Look at him, all proud of having made his mommy happy. Boy, my gelato is melting. Better lick it up quick. Don't wanna ruin my dress, not after the hole it left in my bank account.

I run my tongue around the scoop, blissfully unaware of the spectacular string of innuendos I'm dishing out. Only when I spy Erik snickering the way he does after a perfectly pulled off prank, do I realise how eloquent my performance must be.

"What's so funny?" I taunt him.

"Oh, nothing," he says defensively. "I was thinking about earlier."

"'Bout what?"

"You know, back in the store." Again, he chuckles. "The clerk thought you were my girlfriend."

"Ha!" I mock him. "If anything, she thought I was your sugar mommy."

"Some sugar mommy!" He laughs. "There are third world kids working for the fashion industry who get more money than me."

"Well, they don't get a house and a car, do they?" I remind him, half smiling.

"The only reason I drive that car is because you haven't renewed your licence yet."

My smile falters. He's right, of course. I should renew it. But who's got the time? Between work and trying to keep my body in vaguely acceptable shape, the DMV keeps slipping off my radar.

"Hey, it's okay," he says with a hint of guilt. "I like driving you."

I shake my head. It really should be the other way around.

"So..." He decides to change the subject. "Who are you meeting with tonight again?"

"It's whom." I try to educate him. Erik is a good kid, finished high school with an A in math and science but a C in English. "I don't know just yet. According to the profile, he is a banking consultant, loves to read, and likes good wine."

Erik rolls his eyes.

"What?"

"I didn't say anything."

He never approved of my choice in men, starting with his father.

"Come on, spit it out."

"No, really. I'm good." He swallows his jealousy. "I hope you have a great time tonight."

"Yeah, I hope so too." I smile at him. "What about you? You got the house all to yourself, why don't you invite Mindy over?"

"Erm... no, better not."

"Why not?" I fake my surprise. I knew something was off.

"It's stupid." He kicks off an invisible pebble.

"Did you have another fight with her?" Jesus, these kids can't get along. "Was it bad? You know you can tell me. Right?"

"Erm, Mom..."

"I could help you. I don't understand why you get all squeamish when talking about your girlfriends."

"Your gelato is leaking."

Fuck! I got distracted and the scoop of yoghurt reverted to sugary milk. I panic, and the damn thing falls from the soaked cone straight onto my cleavage.

"Oh, Jesus!"

There is only one thought in my mind: protect my new, so very expensive attire. The melted gelato inexorably trickles downward along my boobs. Soon it will reach the cloth and will be part of it for all eternity. It will ruin my date--and any hope to return the stupid thing should it go south!

I yank the neckline as further down as it will go. Erik smiles from ear to ear.

"Don't just stand there!" I shout.

"Should I lick it off?" He laughs like a fiend.

"Purse. Tissue. Quick!" I bark at him.

He pulls a pack of tissues from my bag and approaches with one.

"Want me to..."

I snatch the precious paper from his hand and carefully wipe the white liquid away. If I could just as easily wipe that smirk off his face.

"That's not funny." I scold him.

"You have to admit that is pretty damn funny." He goes on giggling.

I ignore him and try to assess the damage. Not easy, from my perspective.

"Did I get all of it out?" I ask, still half in panic.

"Hold on, let me see."

Erik examines my chest with clinical attention. For about half a minute.

"Erik, for real. I don't have anything else to wear."

"Looks clear!"

Look at how cheerful he has turned all of a sudden.

Minutes later, we are in the car. He drives off, giving me the occasional glance and snickers. Whatever. As long as he smiles, he can make fun of me all he wants.

I return home late in the evening, but still earlier than I had hoped. Erik's still awake. I find him on the couch, lost in his world of digital violence. He doesn't see me at first, and the moment he does, he drops the controller and hammers the off button on the remote.

"Hey." He shoots me a forced smile.

"Hey." I shoot back and drop next to him on the ouch.

"So... how did it go?"

"Good." As convincing as a clown giving a eulogy. "Good, good, good."

"Uh-huh." He reacts accordingly. "Wanna talk about it?"

I let my head rest and stare at the ceiling. "I... don't wanna bore you with my recount of yet another botched evening."

"Those make for great anecdotes." He snickers. "Was it that bad?"

"Yes and no." I sigh. "I'm not even sure if it was me or him."

"Definitely him." He nods with comforting certainty. "Spoiler alert, by the way."

I take off my shoes and grant my soles some respite. God, I used to be able to stand on these from dusk till dawn. Then again, that was a couple dozen pounds ago.

"It started okay. The place was nice," I recount, doing a poor job of hiding my very mixed feelings. "Maybe just a teeny-tiny bit high-end for a first date."

"Cut to the chase, how was he?" He says, seeing right through me.

"Oh, he was... polite, elegant, refined even." I can't help but frown at the memory. "Older than he looked in the profile pic, though."

"Ha! I bet it was from five years ago."

"Yeah... probably. Maybe I should've used one too."

Erik shrugs. "That would have been pointless."

"Why? Because no one could stand the disappointment?"

"Because nobody could tell the difference."

I smile, more sincerely than I would like. The rascal knows how to pay a compliment. No wonder he has so many girlfriends.

"So what went wrong?" he asks, resting his temple onto his knuckles.

"Nothing went wrong," I insist, as I massage my poor feet. "We ordered some wine and boy did he know his wine. You'd think he spent all his vacations between Tuscany and Alsace."

"Al-what?" He gestures at me to give him my feet.

"Forget it." I lay my feet onto his lap and let him get to work. My soles sigh in relief the moment he sinks his thumbs into them. "We hit it off rather nicely, toasted to how precious time is. We talked wine, of course -- about this or that vineyard you can find out of town. I even hinted we could have our second date at one I know. Wanna know what he said?"

"Did what?" he asks, adorably concerned.

"Something like, 'That would be great! My ex-wife never wanted to go anywhere unless it was within a five-mile radius.'"

"He mentioned his ex." He snickers as he massages me, sounding somewhat relieved. "First time but not last?"

"Not by a longshot," I scoff. "That aside, it was alright. Just... very business-like, you know?"

He looks around in puzzlement. "Erm... no, I don't."

I laugh, not at him but myself. I keep forgetting how young he is.

"How can I explain this... He was all affable and smiling when he first saw me."

"No fucking shit."

"Language." I have to stifle a moan. He knows what he is doing. "But as the evening went on, he started to... grow concerned."

"For what?" He switches feet.

"He didn't expect me to know so much about wine, I guess." I lean further onto the couch, giving him more of my legs. "I swear, I was just trying to keep the conversation going. Finally, all those weekends chugging Porto in Porto and Chianti in Siena were paying off. Maybe I overdid it and..."

"And?"

"He complimented me, but in a weird way. Like he was taken aback. Like he didn't expect me to be... such a socialite."

His jealous relief turns to guilty compassion.

"Now I get it." He scoffs, pulling and relaxing my toes one after the other. "He wanted to show off and you shot him down."

"Not shot down, but... I don't know. I think he expected to wow me, like he was taking his secretary on a date or something."

"Did you tell him how filthy rich Dad was?"

"No! God, no. I tried to move the conversation toward family, vacations, books--all things he supposedly loved, at least in his profile."

Erik falls silent. He begins massaging my ankles as well, which feels fantastic.

"But I could tell he was recalculating, you know? Like... assessing the cost-benefit of the date. I caught him glancing at the waitress a couple of times. Like he was wondering if he had a better shot with her than me."

"That's fucking gross."

"Yeah. A little. And when the check came, he paid like it was a lost bet. He even made a joke: next one's on you."

"Ha. Ha." he snickers without humor. "So... will there be a next one?"

"I don't know... I don't think so." I finally confess, to him and myself. "This was a fucking waste of hopes and heels."

He moves up to my so-very-tired calves.

"Well, if you ask me, you dodged one hell of a bullet, Mom."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, I mean... come on. That guy didn't know his own luck. If that were me, you know what I would've done?"

I giggle. "What?"

"I would've whipped out..." he teases me with a pause. Not falling for it, Erik. "... my phone, taken a selfie with you, and blasted it on all my group chats. Caption: Check her out! She is with ME!"

"Aren't you just hilarious." I half smile.

"I'm not kidding. In fact, if I posted this moment on Instagram," he caresses my calf. "All my friends would die of envy."

He moves his hand to my knee. I freeze.

This--this specific situation--is way too close to how I was hoping the evening would end. Someone to talk to, laugh with, maybe a few caresses.

Except the hand climbing up my leg is not my date's--it's my son's.

"Right." I tease him back with a sarcastic grin and sit normally on the couch. For a moment, he looks adorably disappointed.

"And what about you?" I caress his hair. "Will you finally tell me what happened with Mindy?"

"Mmm? Nothing happened, why?"

"Come on, you've been kinda gloomy the whole day." I insist. "Maybe Mommy can help."

"I don't think so."

"It's Mindy, isn't it?" I run my fingers deeper in his hair, helping him to relax. "Did you fight again?"

"Yeah..." I knew it.

"Big one?"

"Kinda, yeah." He sighs. "We broke up."

"Oh no." That's a shame. I liked Mindy. Though, sometimes she did feel a little shallow. "Why?"

"I told you, it's stupid." He shakes his head.

"Isn't it always?" I pull him into a hug, pressing him against me.

This was so much easier when he was shorter. Now I feel like a mama cat cuddling a tiger. Then again, the tiger does not complain.

"I wanna hear what it is." I playfully persist.

"No." He chuckles. "Trust me, you don't."

"Why? Is it something... personal?"

"You can say that, yeah."

I can tell he wants to talk, but he is embarrassed. Again, this would have been so much simpler a few years ago. I better give him some space.

"I'd better go lie down and forget the whole thing." I get up.

"Sure thing, Mom." He still looks gloomy, and there's little I can do to cheer him up. But I'm sure as hell going to try.

I lean in and press a quick red kiss to his cheek.

"Thanks for listening."

He beams back at me, saying nothing.

I get upstairs and have a quick shower before heading off to bed. To get out of my dress, I need to fight almost as fiercely as I did to put it on. I get under the water and try to wash away the tiredness and the disappointment.

Good God, my breasts itch all over. I need a bigger bra. Ever since I gave birth, nothing fits right. I miss my custom-made ones.

John used to joke my big natural tits cost him almost as much as fake ones, while not as firm. Asshole.

I walk out of the bathroom wearing only my bathrobe. Too tired for laundry. I'll get it done tomorrow.

I drop onto the bed, trying not to think about my date or my ex-husband. It is a self-defeating effort.

Was I too harsh with John? Too eager to escape? Maybe it wasn't the best for me -- but what about Erik? He should be in college right now, joining some organization with a Greek-letter name, not stuck in some vocational school only so that you can make ends meet. All because of you, old crone.

Why did you buy that stupid dress?

You promised yourself no more three-figure price tags this year.

But no, you bought the damn thing, and your date barely looked at it. What a fucking waste. Even if... Erik seemed to like it well enough. Poor Erik. He is being such a darling. Tomorrow I will return that rag to the store and do something nice for him instead.

I sleep sound and get up from bed fully restored. I go wake Erik, knowing he will stay in bed another half an hour at least. I bet he stayed up all night playing videogames, again.

I ready his breakfast quickly, I got a whole lot of laundry that awaits me. And the first thing going into the washer, is my seafoam green memento of foolishness. I set up the washer to fast and delicate, hopefully I'll be done with this before noon.

When I get back down, Erik's eating his bacon -- fork in one hand, smartphone in the other. Look at him, all focused-like. Chatting with Mindy, maybe? Maybe they can still mend things. And if not, well, I'll cheer him up myself.

"Morning, Mom," he says, without raising his eyes from the phone.

"Morning, sleepy head." I lean in to kiss him. He blushes. Lately he has been more and more embarrassed of me being a little tender. Well, worse for you mister, 'cause there is more where that came from. "You weren't up all night again?"

"Who, me? Nah--" He glances up at me. "Is that one of my t-shirts?"

"You were supposed to do laundry yesterday, remember?" I ruffle his hair.

"Ah... yeah... sorry."

"No need to apologize." I tease. "Since my wardrobe's empty, I helped myself to yours."

I expect a comeback, but he doesn't give one. His eyes drop to my chest.

Did he notice I'm not wearing a bra?

"Erm... so, got anything planned for today?" I ask him, turning around.

"Me and the guys are hitting the beach." He perks up. "Wanna come?"

Oh, now I recognize him. "You're old enough to go on your own."

"You scared to put on a bikini or something?"

"In front of a bunch of twenty-year-olds? Yeah, kinda."

He rolls his eyes and scoffs.

"Anyway, before you head out, drop in the bathroom anything you need me to wash. Oh, and I'll need you to drive me back to the mall real quick."

"Mmm? Again? Why?"

"I need to return something to the store."

"You are not returning the dress, are you?"

"I am... why?"

In the space of a heartbeat, he goes from goofy to solemn.

"Mom... don't return the dress."

"I need to, honey. It was a stupid idea."

"But--Look, I get it, last night was bad and all but... this is the first present you made yourself since... well, since a fucking long time."

"Will you stop swearing?"

"Sorry, but... come on! You looked so good in it."

Oh, Erik. You are melting my heart here.

"It was a silly whim, honey. The kind I can no longer afford."

"Because of me."

"Don't say that!"

"You are still mad at me because I said no to Dad's tuition money."

"No!... Maybe a little."

He grumbles and turns away. "Look, if you don't want me here, you could just--"

"Hey!" I pull him back to me. "Don't you dare think that even for a second, you hear me?"

He does and we both calm down.

"But seriously, that was a damn good offer, and that was a damn good school. Why did you turn it down?"

"It was a damn good marriage too."

"It's not the same."

"Oh really?" He stands tall. "There are like a billion good universities a few miles from here. But no, the one school that would take me--and his money--is on the other side of the country."

"He just wants you close." I put a hand on his cheek. "Don't you want to mend things with your father?"

"After the way he treated you? No, I fucking don't!" he roars. "And I made damn sure he knew that last time we talked, believe me."

I do believe him, and it is my fault.

"I shouldn't have left," I say. "I should've put you first."

"Mom, don't."

"If I stayed, your future would be guaranteed, an education, a career."

"You gave me something better."

"What?" I very nearly sob. "A cautionary tale?"

He grabs me by the shoulders. "An example to follow." He holds me tight. "I am... so proud of you. Don't you forget it."

Stiffling sobs and swallowing tears, I hug him back.

As Erik leaves for the beach, I return upstairs. The washer should be done by now. Except, it is not. In fact, it is not moving at all.

"No."

Maybe I put in the wrong program, or I forgot the soap, or something. I check frantically and it all looks in order. Did you glitch on me, you Korean piece of trash? I try and restart it. No dice.

"No, no, no."

I give it another desperate go. It starts, then stops again. A concerningly red light turns on right next to the icon of a wrench. I grab the handle and fight to recover the dress but no. It is trapped inside.

"Fuuuuck!"

I storm downstairs looking for my phone. God, now I have to find a handyman on a Sunday, in the middle of July. I tap on the phone with all the subtlety of an angry crab.

"Mom, you okay?" As I wait for my potential savior to answer the phone, Erik comes back in, adding embarrassment to my rainbow of delightful feelings.

"Yes, honey. All's good."

"I heard you shouting and--"

"Everything is fine." I grit my teeth like a nutcracker. "You go to the beach, you don't want to keep your friends wa--hello? Erm, hi, sorry for calling on a Sunday but I'm having trouble with the washer."

What follows is a pitiful exchange that concludes with nothing. I check my watch real quick and count the minutes. I have two hours tops before the fabric turns into a wrinkled corpse. I insist, calling every number I can google. No one. Either I wait until Tuesday or pay a premium that would be slightly less expensive than a new washer and a new dress.

I check my watch again. Half my time is gone. Fuck it! It's DIY for you, Claire. Maybe I can still get it to the laundromat. I think we still have a crowbar from the move.

I climb the stairs like Jack Nicholson in The Shining, ready to pry open the bucket of bolts and recover my shroud of despair. When I walk inside the bathroom, the washer is spinning again. Must've scared it good.

"It was the pump." Says Erik, soaking wet, holding a screwdriver, which to my eyes shines like Excalibur.. "Luckly, it was just misaligned. No need to replace anything."

I am overwhelmed by the kind of relief that makes you dizzy. All I can do is thank God, and him. I pounce on him and hold him tight, until he blushes red like the sunset he damn well deserves to ride into.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I cover him in kisses. "You are my savior."

"And you are one busty Gordon Freeman."

I don't get whatever reference he is making and right now I don't care to. I playfully hold him by the chin: "What did I do to deserve you?"

"You know, I was asking myself the same question."

He smiles at me, all too proud of himself. As he should be.

"I could almost kiss you," I tease him.

"Maybe you should," he teases me back.

There he goes again. You know what? Maybe I should do it. That would freak him out. A little too much maybe? Well, he did ask for it.

I place my lips on his and give him a pecker. I pull back and smile, waiting for him to go all Oh, Mom, no! What did you do? Bleah! But he doesn't. He holds his smile. Now I am the one blushing.

"So... erm... why don't you have a shower while I go get some dry clothes for you."

"Yeah... good idea."

I head for the door, pretending to live in the parallel universe where I did not just do that. Before I round the corner, my eyes linger a bit. Despite not going to the gym, Erik sure is in good shape. Must be all the swimming he does. Gosh, get a hold of yourself, woman!

The rest of the morning and early afternoon is spent drying and steaming the dress of distress. By the end, it looks good as new. As a final touch, I reattach the tags with a tagging gun. Best thirteen ninety-nine I've ever spent. And now, my dear, time for you to get back on your mannequin, who certainly misses ya.

I hop onto the passenger seat awashed in relief, practically giddy. "Let's bring this bitch back to Mount Gloom." I tell my son.

"That's Mount Doom, Mom." Erik snickers.

"Why, what did I say?"

He shakes his head and hits the gas.

The drive to the mall is mostly silent, which is both unusual and annoying.

"Will you stop that?" I ask him.

"I'm not doing anything."

"You're being grumpy."

He rolls his eyes at the accusation.

"You are--and for no reason."

He stays stubbornly silent, so I stubbornly keep talking.

"I know what you're thinking."

"No, you don't," he chuckles.

"Yes, I do. I know you, Erik. I know you wanted me to keep it. And I appreciate the thought, I really do. You should not take this personally."

"The fuck are you talking about, Mom?"

"This isn't about the dress. It's that you couldn't buy it for me, right? And that makes you feel... what? Less of a man?"

He doesn't answer.

"Well, that's silly. I'm my own woman. I make my own choices. And this one? Returning the dress? It's the right one. For me. For my wallet. For you."

He scoffs and looks away, the way he always does when he's mad at me. I reach for his hair, tug it just enough to get his attention.

"You don't need to buy me things to matter. I already let you mess with my washing machine. That's more intimate than a thousand dollars of designer fabric."

"Mom, trust me--you're way off."

"Am I?"

"Hell yeah. I'm not bummed because I'm broke. I'm bummed because I won't get to see you again in it."

"Oh... that's really it?"

"Hell yeah, it is." He smirks.

I'm not sure how I should take this. Apparently, I was wrong. The reason he loves the dress has nothing to do with pride or money. Just... how I look in it.

That's selfish. And weirdly comforting.

Then, at last, it dawns on me. It fucking dawns: Is he attraced to me? No. No, no, no, I've read too many of those stupid books.

"I got an idea," Erik says. "How about you wear it one last time?"

"Erik... what the fuck are you talking about?"

"Let's go out, you and me, so we both get to say goodbye to it. No regrets."

Oh my God, he just asked me on the date, which is weird. And I have yet to say no, which is insane. I need to buy myself some time to put my scrambled neurons back together.

"That's... not a very good idea."

"Why not?" He plays it cool, but I can sense the tension in his voice. It took him some time to work up the courage to ask this. "It will be fun, just you and me. No expectations, no pressure, just a relaxing night out."

"You would get bored."

"With you? No fucking way."

"I have to work tomorrow," I try to remind him.

"Next Saturday, then? More time for me to set up something really cool."

I know what I should say next: That I am very flattered, but I can't go out with him on a date. Because that would be inappropriate. Except he won't care. Hell, I'm not sure I care either.

I have run out of excuses. The only thing left to do is saying that I don't want to. And that is just... too big of a lie.

"Okay, fine." The words tumble out, and for the first time in minutes I can breathe again.

He looks at me in utter stupor, trying to find an ounce of sarcasm in my voice.

"Just don't take me to an arcade or something."

"I don't think I could find one anyway. Not without a time machine."

"Also, do try and not remind me how old I am, will ya?"

He smiles at me. It's a smile that goes beyond time and space. A smile that makes me forget his age, and mine as well.

"You are not old, Mom. You have never been this beautiful."

Well, that shuts me up good. I turn away so he can't see my lips trembling, my eyes watering or, God forbid, my knees shaking.

Mondays.

After a couple of hours at the keyboard, I can already tell this is going to be a long week. For several reasons.

Last Friday, I was stupid enough to confess to Julia that I had a date, and she will no doubt want to hear all about it. She's a living megaphone, and I'd rather speak into it as little as possible.

But even more than my previous, disastrous date, it's the next one that keeps me on my toes.

I keep telling myself this is all in my head. Erik is not attracted to me--not like that. He loves me, sure. That much goes without saying.

And I love him too. I want the best for him.

And the best for him can't possibly be me, of course.

... Can it?

My phone startles me. Its buzz might as well be an earthquake. It's him: The countdown to Saturday begins, followed by a heart emoji.

I type in a heart of my own, then delete it, then send it anyway.

"Someone's smiling at her screen," Julia says, not even looking up from her keyboard.

"It's nothing."

"Oh, it's definitely something. Did your mystery date go well?"

"Erm... No, I wouldn't say that."

"Really? Well, his loss. Am I right?" she says, looking for my complicity.

"Right..." I return with sarcasm.

As usual, her silence is appreciated, and short-lived.

"So who is it, then?"

"Who is who?"

"The one that makes you smile."

"Ah that's..." My son. "... someone I met."

"On the same night?"

"Yeah, kinda."

"You slut!" She chortles. "Handsome?"

"Very."

"How old?"

"Erm..." Hesitating is only slightly less dangerous than a full confession.

"Either very much or very little." She grows giddy in her chair, knowing she nailed it. "So which is it?"

"He is... on the younger side."

"You don't say!" Now that got her eyes off the screen.

"Shut up, and lower your voice. Boss's in earshot."

"Sorry." She keeps on typing and giggling.

Another message: Just to be sure, red or white?

I type in: Red.

I am trying to be discreet, but Julia notices anyway. "Claire the Cougar is on the prowl. Look out, boys she'll chew you up!"

"Please stop," I implore her.

"I'm just happy for you, girl. God knows what I would do to be in your shoes."

"I would not be so sure." That sounded a lot more playful than I meant it to. Which is stupid. Because now I made her curious. She eyes me, asking a million questions without speaking a single word.

"It was something I agreed to in a moment of weakness." I confess, trying to stay as vague as possible. "And I am not sure if I did the right thing."

"Well..." She cackles like a fortune teller who's seen the cards and can't wait for me to catch up. "Only one way to find out, am I right?"

As much as I hate to admit it, she is.

When I get back home in the evening, Erik does everything he can to spoil me. He can't cook dinner to save his life, but he helps with the dishes, takes out the trash, and gives me one of his heavenly backrubs---I can never get enough of those.

At some point, I have the brilliant idea of complaining about my bra, say it's digging into me. He suggests I just unclip it and let him rub the spots where the straps left marks.

It honestly sounds like a dream. And it takes every ounce of self-control I have to say no.

The rest of the week slips by in much the same way--Julia teasing me during the day, Erik spoiling me at night. Doing chores, backrubs, foot massages. And all he asks in return is a hug and a kiss. Once he was bold enough to ask for one on the mouth. I pressed my index on his lips and reminded that it's not yet Saturday. But eventually, Saturday arrives.

I slip into the dress like it's armor. Makeup, minimal. Perfume, barely a trace. I still plan to return this.

And I don't want to look like I'm trying too hard--for Erik's sake.

But I don't want him to think I'm not trying at all, either.

He waits for me in the car, like a chauffeur on a carriage. I hold my breath as I step in and--to my relief--so does he.

"So, where are we going?" I ask, as we hit the road.

"You'll see." He sounds confident, eager even.

"Well, I just hope we are not going to MacDonald's." I tease him.

"Don't be silly," he returns. "A lady like you, deserves no less than Burger King."

I laugh at his joke, hoping it is a joke.

The drive is a long one, but I don't mind. I steal a glance at Erik and can't help but think how lucky any girl would be to have him as a boyfriend. I may be slightly overdressed compared to him, but that's okay. I'm glad he kept it simple, pair of jeans and a nice shirt. I half expected he'd blow all his money on a tux.

After taking many, many turns into secondary streets, we arrive at a nice place well hidden in a brick building that would not be out of place in London, with a nice little insignia flashing at the entrance. It's not Burger Kings, thank Christ, but a nice little Mexican restaurant.

The inside is cozy and pleasant. Few tables, few waiters. The menu is crooked but the selection is good. The wines are few but they are some of the best that can be found on this side of the pond. I also take a look at the prices. Manageable, for sure, but as it happens I know exactly how much money Erik has in his pocket. This is a lot for him.

While Erik goes through the menu, I glance at the interior.

"Very nice place." I compliment him.

"I know, right?" He boasts, though I can tell how relieved he is. "You have to try their chili con carne, best you can find north of the Rio Grande. Or... so the reviews say."

I smile at him. God, he is such a darling. That gives me an idea.

"And what will we drink with it?" I tease him.

"Well, according to ChatGPT a red with a good fruitiness and a touch of--"

He falls silent as I lay my hand on his.

"How about you take care of the food, and I take care of the wine." I wink at him.

"Woah... If you insist." He involuntarily bites his lower lip.

"Also, drinks are on me."

"But--"

"I don't intend to stop at a single bottle, young man. Can both you and your wallet handle that?"

I intertwine my fingers with his, and he gives in.

The food's excellent and the portions generous, which is good because I'm practically starving. I could barely eat anything at lunch. The wine flows abundantly. Too abundantly, perhaps. Erik wants to look manly at all costs and I... I just need to let go.

By the time we finish our main course, we're both pleasantly tipsy.

"Woah," he says, trying to shake off the dizziness. "This stuff is so much stronger than beer."

"Is this really the first time you've had wine?"

"Feels like it." He gulps down another abundant mouthful of Guadalupe. "This is different."

"And how is it?" I let my chin rest on my hands. "All that you hoped for?"

"That and more." He winks. "No way I can go back to beer after this."

He looks beyond adorable. I could just eat him up right here and now. God, what am I thinking? Drinking was a bad idea. Or an excellent one. I get a built-in excuse for everything that happens next.

"Hey, Mom," he stammers, "will you get mad if I say women are like fine wine?"

I fix him with my best femme fatale glare. "I will positively murder you."

He grins, fueled by liquid courage. "What if I said... you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and every second I've been sitting here, I've been asking myself: damn, how did I get so lucky?"

I squeeze his hand, gently. "Sweetie... that's so much worse."

His leg brushes against mine--accidentally, maybe--but it sends a shiver up my spine. Was it him? Or did I subconsciously reach for him? I don't know who made the first move. Maybe both of us. Maybe neither. All I know is that my shoe's off, and I'm playing footsie like a teenager. He looks like he might explode.

I reach for the bottle.

"How about we finish this one at home?"

We walk--or better yet stumble to the parking lot. Erik insists that he can drive, and I insist that he cannot. I steal the car keys.

"We are getting an Uber," I say, hiding the keys behind my back.

"Mom, I swear, I'm okay. I can handle this." He chases after the keys. His arms are long and I straggle to keep them out of reach.

"I know you believe that." I freeze him in place by pressing my lips against his. "But I need to feel safe. You want me to feel safe, right?"

Minutes later, we are pressed against one another on the backseat of an Uber. He seeks another kiss, and I don't have it in my heart to deny him. He grows bolder, laying a hand on my knee and tentatively caressing my thigh. I fake indifference while subtly pulling away--barely.

We get to the front door leaning onto each other, laughing, and fumbling with the keys. Once inside, we drop on the couch, glad to be home safe and sound.

"We made it," I say, victoriously. "How are you hanging in there?"

"Let's just say that not letting me drive was probably a good call." He laughs.

"Yeah, learning when to stop is a fundamental part of your education." I ruffle his hair again, which is surprisingly soft, and pleasant to touch. Has he been using a new shampoo? Smells pretty good too.

"Mom?"

"Mmm?"

"Are you smelling my hair?"

"What? On no. No, no, no--Are you staring at my cleavage?"

"What? No! That would be crazy, right?"

I am... the opposite of sure about where we go from here.

This whole thing--it's awkward, wildly inappropriate. And yet, it was a good date. Maybe because of all that? The way he looks at me... I can't be imagining it, right?

Those kisses, brief and clumsy, surely they weren't just a joke?

God, I don't know. Maybe he doesn't either. Am I reading too much into this? Forcing myself onto him? No. No, he likes me. That much is clear. But that way? As in really, truly likes me that way?

And even if he does... Goddamnit, I'm the adult here. If either of us has gotten some ridiculous idea lodged in his or her head, it's on me to shut it down.

"We should go to bed," I tell him.

"What? Already?" Again, he acts casual, but his voice stammers with disappointment.

"It was a wonderful night and I have been very well. Thank you." I kiss him on the cheek.

"I get it." He smiles and reaches for the bottle. "One last toast and then off to bed?"

Oh, God. At this point, getting two more glasses in my system is probably a bad idea.

"... Okay," I say with a tipsy giggle. It might be already too late.

While on my way to the kitchen, I feel his eyes on me. I don't know why but I give my hips a slight wiggle, and check his reaction with the corner of my eye. He is like hypnotized. Which is exactly what I feared... and hoped for.

I return with a pair of glasses. He pours generously for both of us, and we toast to the wonderful night.

I kick off my heels--all too glad to be rid of those--and rest my weight on his shoulder.

"So... wanna watch a movie?" he asks.

"You really don't want the night to end, do you?"

"I was thinking something short. I've got the extended edition of The Lord of the Rings on my laptop."

"Honey..." I laugh softly. "This was fun. But now it's over."

He stares into his glass, as if searching for some last excuse to stretch the moment just a little longer.

"You're right," he says. "But it was fun. Pretending you were... like my girlfriend or something."

"So that's what you were doing?"

"Yeah--I know it's weird but..." He lets out an awkward but sincere laugh. "I should probably shut up."

Yes, he probably should. Just like I should probably head upstairs instead of downing yet another glass of red recklessness.

"You know... I could stay a little longer if..." I lean in with yet more weight.

"If?"

"If you finally tell me what went wrong with Mindy." Not what he wanted to hear.

"Mom..." He rolls his eyes.

"I just... hope it is not somehow my fault." I take his hand, unwilling to let him go. "You two looked happy together, and I was happy for you."

"Jesus Christ..." He hides his face in his palm. "You really wanna hear it?"

"Absolutely." I speak with wine-fueled certainty.

"Okay, here goes." He takes a deep breath. "We were not on the same page, sexually I mean."

"Uh-huh..." I will need another glass. "How so?"

"She didn't like trying new things, y'know? I'd bring something up, like... I don't know, just stuff. Funny things." I raise an eyebrow and he notices. "Nothing crazy! I swear. Pretty normal stuff, like... doing it in the parking lot." I was already picturing her with a whip and a strap on. "Whenever I came up with something like that, she'd freeze up. Or say, 'Where do you even get these ideas?' Like it was weird that I wanted to... you know--explore."

My poor boy. "And she made you feel weird for that?"

"WeIl, kinda. Yeah." He looks down, recollecting many painful moments. "After a while I started wondering if I was just... bad at it. Like maybe I was trying so hard to make it good, I made it worse."

"That is very unlikely, honey." I caress him. "She probably didn't know what she wanted either. That happens."

"Clearly she didn't want me."

"Her loss, then."

He smiles at my encouragement.

"The last straw was last month. I really wanted to try... well, to try oral."

"That's perfectly natural." Unlike this conversation.

"I went down on her first. It was my idea after all." He laughs. I just smile. That kind of generosity is sadly rare. "I took my time, didn't rush anything. I wanted her to feel good. And she did--even if it took me fifty minutes."

"Fifty minutes?" I could easily cum two or three times with that amount of attention. "I applaud your persistence."

"She did too." He smiles at the memory, must've made him very proud. "I also liked doing it, a lot. But then came her turn." His smile weakens. "She did it like..." He makes a vaguely mechanical gesture. "... like it was homework. Barely looked at me. And it was... not exactly as I hoped it would feel."

All of a sudden, I don't like Mindy all that much anymore. She mistreated him, not knowing how good she had it. My poor boy, I bet she didn't even swallow, the prude.

"And after she was done, it was all like 'good, hope you are happy'. That gave me one heck of a post nut clarity."

I fill my glass with all that is left in the bottle, and share it with him.

"You are right. You were not on the same page." I try and cheer him up. "It wasn't your fault."

"Wasn't it?" He lets out a sad laugh. "Mom, be real with me."

My heart skips a few beats. "About what?"

He faces me with renewed seriousness. "Do you think I'm a pervert?"

"Oh, honey..." I caress him further. "Is that how she made you feel?"

"It's not just her." He gulps, full of guilt and long held shame. "I get these ideas that... I don't think are normal. Mindy always said I had watched too much porn and... maybe I have."

"Sexual ideas?"

"Yeah."

"Like... very vivid fantasies?"

"Yeah..."

"About whom?"

"You know... girls in general."

"What about women?"

"Oh, hell yeah."

"Including me?"

"No!" He lies so poorly I am almost flattered. "That would be crazy, right?"

This is it. This is the time to shut this whole thing down and walk away as a decent Mother would.

"I don't know, we all get crazy ideas from time to time." I chortle. "And we did kiss."

"Twice," He feels compelled to remind me.

"Yes, twice." I sigh. "I... hope that didn't freak you out. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"The only thing I felt embarrassed about was my huge boner."

"You naughty boy." I reproach him. "Talking to your Mom like that."

"You started it." He teases me. And he is perfectly right. I started it, and now I will finish it.

I lean in to kiss him again, he receives me like he had been waiting for hours. He grabs me by the hips and pulls me into a hungry embrace. My lips part slightly, inviting him to do the same. Our tongues intertwine in a slick, sensual and sickening dance.

I break the kiss, forcing him away from me. For a moment he looks confused, nearly in panic. God, so am I.

"Honey, sorry. I shouldn't have done that. Did I freak you out?"

"I will freak out if you don't do it again."

That seals it. I plant him firmly onto the sofa, climb his lap and kiss him with hungry abandon. Fuck! If I burn in hell for this, I might as well make sure it's worth it. EXCELSIOR!

He is eager, strong, but inexperienced. He is insatiable but wild. I have to lead this game. I grab him firmly by the chin and delicately push him away.

"Honey, don't take this the wrong way but...?"

"B-but what?" Look at him trembling. He is so cute!

"I'm not twelve. When Mommy kisses, she likes it slick and sloppy. Can you do this for me, honey?"

No need to tell him twice. He grabs me not by the hips but on the butt--which was very, very eager to be grabbed. He forces me further onto him and does his utmost to give me the sloppiest, slickest, dirtiest kiss I could ever ask for. I do not just stand and watch. Hell, no! I match his appetite and surpass it. I hold his jaw, forcing out his tongue and press mine against it. At the same time, I grab his wrist and move his hand where I like to be squeezed the most, right next to my backdoor. Did I just call it backdoor? One step at a time, Claire.

We continue like this, for several minutes. His hands explore the lower half of my body, satisfying long withheld curiosity. And through his touch, I rediscover myself. He feels the roundness of my butt, the length of my legs, the softness of my thighs. I wonder how I feel compared to Mindy. God, I hope he does not think I'm fat. Even if judging by the way he holds on to this big butt of mine, he may actually like a bit of extra plumpness.

I break the kiss again and we exchange an exhausted, ecstatic smile.

"Honey... is that what I think it is, pressing on my crotch?"

"I don't know, Mom. Are those what I think they are poking at my chest?"

I cover my nipples, rock hard and guilty as charged. But so his he. I can't possibly content with feeling it through his jeans. I need to see it. To feel it in my hand--both hands.

I pull down his zip, push his boxers aside, and up it pops.... Well, I'll be damned.

"Mom? You okay? Is something wrong?"

There is a metric ton of wrong here, but none of that has anything to do with what I see. Claire, dearest, your eyes don't deceive you. You are staring at the most magnificent cock you ever gazed upon. It is big, thick, with a fat head made for kissing, sucking, and so much more. That veny, pulsating shaft is basically begging for my touch, and those balls of his... I bet they are brimming with delicious cum. God, how could Mindy look at this and say yack? That little skank. My poor, perfect young man. Don't you worry. Mommy will cheer you up.

I grab his cock and squeeze, making it leak half a glass of pearly pre-cum.

"Woah, Mom."

"Call me Mommy, honey." I jack him off.

He looks at me with utter incredulity. He didn't expect me to go this far. I didn't expect it either. Yet here we are, both shocked at how unshocked we both are.

"Honey..." I say, with trembling voice and biting my lower lip. "Are you sure you don't mind Mommy doing this for you?"

"N-no," he gasps. "I've been dreaming of this."

"Did you, now?" That is so disconcerting, and relieving at the same time. "Since when?"

"A while I guess."

I squeeze the tip of his cock, lubing my palm in precum.

"I hope you realize..." I masturbate him methodically, all the way from the tip to the balls, squeezing both like only a woman can. "How incommensurably inappropriate that is."

"I do realize," he admits with guilt. "Nothing I can do about it."

"I know, honey." I pick up the pace. "Me neither."

I keep on going, periodically asking him if he likes what Mommy does, if my hand feels good, if he wants me to go faster or slower. I give him the illusion of control, for I know exactly what I must do. Dare I say, I know it better than he does.

It is nice to once more have a cock in my hands, and what a nice cock it is. I can't help but wonder where he got it from. Not his father, that's for sure. I remember reading somewhere that boys take their attributes from their mother's side. Could that be true? If so, this cock is rightfully mine.

"Fuck, Mom! You are so good at this." He smirks.

"I told you to call me Mommy," I remind him. "If you want me to continue."

"I like Mom more."

He won't let me take over completely... That's good. I never been that much of a top.

"Is that how you called me when you got your... ideas?"

"Uh-huh."

I suppress the instinct to pinch my nipples.

"Tell me, sweetey," I pass my thumb upon his urethra, squeezing more precum out of his tip. "What do you like about Mommy so much."

"Fucking everything," he says. A disappointing answer, I want details!

"Like what?" I slow down to pace, teasing slightly, and giving him time to think.

"Like... when you stretch and your shirt lifts just a bit, or when you pull your hair up. When you laugh and tilt your head back, or walk past me and your hips sway."

My hips sway?

"And when you lean into things... you legs and your butt make these curves, and your tits come--you know--forward."

"Oh..." I lean in, projecting my boobs upward with my free arm. "Like this?"

"Fuck yes!" He clenches like he was holding his orgasm. "Then there is all the other stuff, like you smell and... your voice?"

"My voice?" Not a compliment I heard that often. Though I did hear it.

"Yes, it's so... warm, and soothing. Like a purring cat."

"Are you saying I sound like a phone actress?"

"A what?"

"Someone who is good at saying dirty things." I squeeze him that little bit harder. "Like: you have such a beautiful fat cock."

I give his shaft a small but somewhat wet kiss. It pulses.

"Woah, Mom." His voice melts. "You really like it?"

"Of course, dear. It's a beautiful cock and any woman would feel like worshipping it."

I pull his cock aside, careful not to lose my tempo. I press my lips onto his crotch, making a loud smack, and leaving a perfectly defined red kiss mark. I raise my eyes and look at him losing his mind. That's not enough. I want to drive my son completely crazy. So I kiss him again, on the inside of his legs, on his balls, all along his shaft, all the way up to his frenulum. Some more precum gobbles up from his shaft, hitting me square on the face. I will not wipe it off.

"Mommy loves your cock, dear." I tease him with the voice he likes so much.

"T-the feeling is mutual." He lets out a nervous laugh.

"I can't believe Mindy did not want to suck it." I speak with comically forced sadness.

"Please, don't mention her," he implores me.

"You are still sad? My poor boy." I give his tip another kiss and jerk him harder. "Want Mommy to make you forget all about her? Want to know what a real blowjob feels like?"

"Yes!" He nearly shouts. "I mean--if you are okay with it."

"Hold on to the couch, dear." I grab his cock with both my hands and aim it at my lips.

This is it, I stand at another threshold. Once I cross it, there is no going back. Then again, what is there to go back to? Normalcy? There is no normal after this. Handjobs only? How is this any worse? Or better yet--how is that any better than this? No. Whatever line there was to cross, it's not in front of me, it's way behind. "Try not to cum too fast. Mommy wants to enjoy this too."

I part my lips, envelopping his glans and pressing my tongue on his frenulum. I keep pressure high as I slide down his shaft.

"Fuck! Oh my God, Mom!" He shouts, flattering me to no end.

I hold still for a moment, holding him in place with my lips and swirling around him with my tongue. I focus solely on his taste and his smell. God, my head spins. He smells amazing, and tastes fantastic. So familiar, yet so surprising. What am I doing? This is my son. No, right now he is a man. And not just any man, he is the best one I have had in... forever maybe. And--God forgive me--I am going to give him my all.

I go down deeper, massaging his shaft with my lips and squeezing the head of his cock just above the entrance to my throat. I wonder if I should make it a little messy for him. It will do a number on my make up, but nobody ever complained about that.

I hold his legs well apart and take him even deeper, careful not to gag on him. I have to win my shame to keep eye contact, I am slightly relieved to see he shares my disbelief. Look, Erik. Your mother is sucking your cock, and she is doing a better job than any of those little skanks you brought home this year. You never thought it could feel this good, did you? Better brace yourself, honey. Mommy is just getting started.

I'm about to dive yet deeper when he grabs me by the hair and yanks my head away. Did I bite him? Jesus, he is so big, I did not even notice.

"Honey, what--"

"Can you use your hands too?" He speaks fast and full of longing. "Both of them, please!"

I comply with his request and milk his cock. Slowly, he lets go of my hair, and I take him back in my mouth. My sweet boy knows what he likes. And I like that.

I keep massaging him with both my hands, sucking greedily on the head alone. The way he throbs beneath my slick palms... he must be getting closer. Oh, God. What do I do now?

I pause my sucking. "H-honey, are you... getting close?"

"I sure fucking am, Mom." He grunts. "Don't think I can last much longer."

"Would you like Mommy to swallow it all?"

I can see in his eyes that yes, he wants that, desperately. And yet, he hesitates. Is he having second thoughts? Now?

"I... don't want to force you." He almost sobs.

Oh, sweetheart. "Honey, I want it. I want your cum. You just have to tell Mommy what would you like more? Cumming all over her face and shooting it all down her throat. Whatever makes you happy will make her happy."

He laughs. "Same."

Well, that makes quite the conundrum. I guess it is up to me to break the impasse.

"Okay, then I will choose for you."

I masturbate him as hard and fast as my arms allow me to, and suck onto the head of his cock like I was trying to pull venom out of a wound, keeping eye-contact all the while.

"Cum, baby." I tell him with my eyes. "Cum inside Mommy's throat. She wants your sperm. She wants all of it. Don't you want to make Mommy happy?"

The first rope of cum hits me like out of a hose. It splurts onto the back of my throat and does not go down smooth. I feel the urge to gag, but cannot allow myself to. I don't want him to think I don't like it. No way. I would break his heart. No. As his mother, it is my solemn duty to swallow his cum and not let a single drop go to waste. So I relax my throat, still my breathing, and gulp down the first mouthful, then the second one, the third one, the forth one... God, there is still more?

Eventually, he is finally done cumming. But I am not done with him. I give it more loving licks and kisses while squeezing every last drop out of his urethra. I take those on my tongue, show them to him, and down them with the same enthusiasm.

He smiles at me, almost moved to tears. "Wow, Mom... just... wow."

Wow indeed, I get back on the couch and sit next to him. I take his hand and... Oh, my God, this was so wrong.

I may be just sobering up, but clarity has come to haunt me. Part of me wishes that this was all just another sick wet dream; that I would just wake up with in my drenched panties and I could just spell it away with my magic wand. But this is no dream. I really just did it. I'm a monster!

"Mom, you okay?" My poor baby asks me.

"Y-yes honey, I'm okay." God, how could I do this to him? I was his example. He was proud of me. I ruined everything.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, and I look at him as if he was mad.

"Sorry about what, honey?" I ask him, beyond puzzled.

"I didn't mean force you--"

"You didn't force me to do anything!" I very nearly shout.

"I should've never told you about those stupid fantasies. I know it's wrong but... I couldn't resist."

That makes me laugh. "I couldn't resist either."

He turns to me. "You are not mad at me?"

"Honey..." I embrace him. "I could never be mad at you. Though, I am real mad at myself."

"At yourself?" His disbelief echoes mine.

"I am the adult here. I could've and should've said no. So... I'm sorry."

"Hey, hey, hey!" He grabs me by the shoulders. "Don't you dare think that ever for a moment. This is my fault, end of discussion."

Shit, I am so fucking horny I could die.

"No, it's not." I push his arms away, lay both hands on his cheeks and press my forehead against his. "And don't you dare use that tone with me, young man. I may be a sick slut, but I am still your mother."

He puts on hand on mine and embraces me with the other. "I don't think you are a slut, Mom. If you were, what would that make of me?"

"You are so sweet." God, I just kissed him again. "If only I wasn't your mother."

"I don't mind," he laughs gently. "Like, at all."

"Well, I do... though not nearly as much as I should."

We lay in each other arms, and my gaze falls to his cock. He is still half erect. I should've known that a single blowjob would not do the trick. There is too much of me in him.

"So... what happens now?" He asks me.

"I don't know." Words that no parents should ever speak. "What would you like to happen?"

"Do you really need to ask?" He looks at me shame-spiked longing. "I want to make you feel good too."

"Honey..." I escape his gaze. "No, can't let that happen. No."

"You don't want--"

"That is beside the point!" I whimper. "I want to be a good parent. I don't know if I still can, but God--I have to try."

He falls silent, as confused and conflicted as I am. He wants me. He wants to love me. But knows he can't.

"I understand," he says in the end.

"Starting tomorrow, things will go back to normal and... and I hope it you will find it in your heart to forgive."

"I forgive you." He makes fun of me. "It's a real shame, though."

"It is."

We both take a deep breath, and sit hand in hand. Neither of us is ready to let go.

"Mom."

"Yes?"

"If... things were different, would you be my girlfriend?"

"In a heartbeat." I would be that and more.

"Well, it was real fun pretending you were. I'm never going to find anyone like you."

"Yes, you will," I encourage him. "You'll see."

"Well, until then, I'll keep thinking of you. You're not just beautiful--inside and out--you're the only one who ever made me feel like... I don't know. Good. Not just sexually, I mean. Good with myself, get it? You... you made me the happiest guy alive." Jesus Christ, I swear if he says one more sweet word like that, I will ride his cock until he cries for mercy. "I just wish I could do the same for you."

I squeeze his hand, and bite my tongue which is about to betray me. I can't do this. I need to protect him. But is it him I am protecting? Or myself?

"Honey... if it helps... if you want to..." I can't believe I am saying this. " We could pretend for a little bit longer."

"Really?" he asks, with hope beyond hope.

"Well, I did say tomorrow morning, right?"

Before I can to my senses, he pounces on me.

His tongue explores the inside of my mouth, and his hands feel my body. My hips, my butt, my tits, and nipples, they all longed for a real man's touch for far too long. He finds them all receptive and welcoming. As his fingers sink into my plumpness, I don't feel old, I don't feel fat, I only feel desired, worshipped, loved.

He is still somewhat hesitant, it takes some time before his hand has the courage to venture beneath my skirt. His fingers seek their way past my panties, and eventually find it. He touches my labia and... I stop him.

"Not here, honey."

"W-what?"

"Upstairs." I take his hand and stand. "Also, check my purse. You know how to put on a condom, right?"

"A c-condom."

"Honey... I hope you didn't think I would settle for your fingers, right?"

I walk up the stairs, wiggling my hips for him on the way up. He runs after me with a single condom between his fingers.

"The whole box, honey," I tell him, and he runs back grinning. My words probably sounded titillating to his horny ears, but the truth is I would rather be safe than sorry.

Once in my room, I turn around for him.

"Will you help Mommy out of this, dear?" I tease him.

Despite his heart-pounding eagerness, he peels off my dress with the utmost care. He does not want to ruin it. Oh no, I bet he wants me to wear this for him again and soon. He caresses my skin as the seafoam green washes away. He can no longer hold back, poor thing. He grabs my breasts and squeezes hard enough to make me yelp.

"You naughty boy," I scold him and swat his hands away. "These are delicate, you know?"

"Sorry, Mom. I just--"

I take his and lead them to my butt cheeks. "These are not. These like being roughed around."

"Oh..." He squeezes my butt and every nerve below my waist tells my brain: more off that, please. "Do they also like being spanked?"

"Very much," I shamelessly confess, and he immediately follows with a good slap on my buns. "Ouch!" I moan.

"Was that too hard?" He asks.

"Too hard?" I giggle at his concern. "Honey, I am not twelve. I barely felt anything."

He looks intrigued by the challenge and gives me another good spanking.

"Better," I compliment him. Though I hope he will not be so delicate after we get started.

I push him onto the bed and purposefully unhook my bra. One shoulder strap at a time, slow and deliberate. The cups stay on for now. God, this is my last bit of armor. I'm trying to act confident, but I'm so nervous.

What if he doesn't like my tits?

He seemed to like them fine when they were propped up and shaped by my bra, but now? Now it's just me. No tricks or padding. Damn. No use dragging this out. I let go of it.

"Jeezus!" He exclaims. "You got some marvellous mellons, Mom."

"Really?" I try to hide behind playfulness how starved for approval I am. "You don't think they are too..."

"They are not too much of anything!" He interjects before I could find the right word. "They are so fucking big, and round, and the way you dropped your bra... that was chef's kiss, Mah!"

I giggle in relief.

"Mom, would you... jump up and down a little?" He asks. "Or wiggle them around?"

"Don't push it, young man." I admonish him, already tugging down my panties.

"No!" He halts me. "I mean... Mind if I do that for you?"

My God, this boy is not shy. And I like that. Like, a lot. I better not let out how much he is turning me on, or I will lose what little control I still have.

I walk up to him and offer him my hip.

"Don't tear them off," is my only recommendation. "These things are stupid expansive."

"I had something else in mind."

He claws at my thighs like a tiger and pulls down my panties with his teeth. God, he is going to see how wet I am.

He drags the last piece of cloth that still was between him and me all the way down to my ankles and I step out of it. He crawls back up, kissing and licking my legs all along the way. If I was wet before, now I am drenched. He then kisses my butt, my hips, my crotch, and finally sinks his nose in my pubic hair and kisses my clit.

"You are so beautiful, Mom." He tempts me. "You are like an angel."

"I'm no angel, honey." Understatement of the century. "And you are quite the little devil, dare I say."

"I guess I am." He snickers. "I love you."

God, he is mad, and so am I. "I love you too, honey."

I take a condom from the box and rip the wrapper with my teeth.

"Do I really have to wear one of those?" He meowls.

"Yes you do, Honey."

"Can't we do without? Just the first time."

First time? First time of how many?

"No way this happens without condom, honey. But don't worry, Mommy will make it fun for you."

I pull out the latex ever so slightly, and trap the ring between beneath my lips, and put it on him with my mouth, all the while keeping eye contact, and enjoying his utterly incredulous face.

Now that his purpleheaded warrior has donned his armor, he is finally ready for battle. I climb on top of him.

"Mom, wait." He stops me again. "Can I be on top?"

And here I feared he would have the mature woman ride him first. I don't know if I should feel anxious or relieved. I do want to stay in control, but I also so much prefer being on my back when getting fucked. Do I trust him with this?

"Why do you want to be on top, honey?"

"I don't know... That's how I always pictured it."

He pictured it, of course. For how long? God, I rather not know. Should I let him? Fuck it, I'm taking the gamble.

I lay on my back and spread myself wide for him. I feel so exposed, I could die of shame. He climbs on top of me and holds my legs up from below the knees, gazing at my pussy with gluttonous glee. Before I can stop him, he dives between my labia and gives me a lick that nearly makes me scream.

"Honey, no!" I hold his head back with one hand and caress his cheek with the other.

"W-what's wrong?" he asks, ever terrified of my cold feet.

"Honey... It took Mommy a lot of courage to get this far and she is not in the mood for foreplay."

"I just wanted to taste you." She laments. "This might be my last chance."

I let out a frustrated sigh. "If I promise to... let you eat me out tomorrow, will you drop it for now?"

"T-tomorrow."

"Yes... I guess I can be your girlfriend until noon."

"Sold!"

He hops up and aims his latex wrapped cock at my shamefully dripping pussy.

So here we are, the moment of truth, I have already decided to go through with this. I boarded the plane and brought my parachute, that doesn't make the dive any less scary. Yet, I want it. I so want it. And he wants it too. He pushes forward but misses slightly. I grab his cock, his magnificent, throbbing cock, and help it go where it belongs.

"Push, honey." I whisper. And my son fucks me.

He is coming in. He is big. Not the biggest I ever had, but somehow feels as if he was. Fuck, I am spasming already. It's been too long. I'm no longer used to this... fullness. Oh shit, I'm cumming!

"Mom, are you okay?" he asks with a trembling laugh. "Did you just...?"

"Yes!" I shout, locking my legs around his impertinent ass. "I fucking did."

"Woah... didn't know that could happen." He snickers, the little rascal.

"Yeah, me neither." I pant.

"We are off to a good start, aren't we?"

"Just wipe that proud grin off your face and keep fucking me."

"Yes, Ma'am!"

His second thrust is strong with youthful vigor, and the overconfidence of limited experience. He shoves his entire cock balls deep into my pussy, slamming on my cervix like a hammer.

"Oh, fuck!" I shout.

"Sorry," he says, while sounding anything but. "Too much?"

"That was almost too much, honey." I chuckle, half in pain, half in ecstasy. "If that's what you did to poor Mindy, no wonder she ran away."

"F-for real?"

"Possibly," and I am glad she did. "I just came, honey. I'm like--super sensitive. You need to go a little slower at first... not too slow either though."

"Sure, just how do I know when to speed up?"

"By listening, and feeling." I gesture at him to give me his hands. "Now, push."

Keeping my fingers well intertwined with his, I help him find the right rhythm, and find it he does. He pushes inside me with power and purpose, giving the walls of my vagina a much needed massage. I am still slick with my first orgasm, and the walls of my bedroom finally hear the sweet echoes of lovemaking.

His beautiful eyes fall to my tits, he looks at my nipples go back and forth as if hypnotized. He wants to suck 'em, I can tell. He is taller than me, and I need to shift slightly up to help him.

"Here, honey." I grab my right breast and offer it to him. "Suck on Mommy's tits while you fuck her."

He dives onto my breast, sucking my nipples as if his life depended on it. It hurts, in the best possible way. I offer him the other one too, and he sucks with the same vigor. God, I am loving this so much that I don't realize I am pinching my own nipple.

While doing this, he cannot penetrate me fully, which is frustrating, I want to feel him all the way. Still, I don't have it in my heart to stop him.

"You really do like my tits," I say instead.

"They are the best," he says with his mouth full. "They are so big, and plump, and full."

"Better than Mindy's?" Mindy has quite a nice pair, small but firm. Truth be told, I envy her.

"So much better!" He squashes my tits together, makes the nipples touch, and sucks both of them at the same time. "No fucking way I could do this with her."

I feel... so flattered. Like I wasn't since... I don't think I ever felt like this. I wish I could pretend that this is still the wine talking, but the truth is I am quite sober, and happier than I ever was.

"Enough of that now, Honey." I ruffle his hair. "You can do it more later, but now Mommy needs you to fuck her hard. Can you do that, honey? Can you make her cum again like you did before?"

This time, I let him go wild on me. He is strong, so strong, but I can take him. In fact, I can't have enough of him. I place my hand on his bottom and help him push further inside of me. He keeps on fucking me, hard and sweet. He smiles at me and I smile at him. I bet he must be close. I hope he is not holding back for my sake.

"Honey, are you okay?" I ask, brushing his cheek with the tip of my fingers.

"Never better," he huffs.

"You know what I mean, sweety." I giggle. "You don't need to hold it in."

"I want to make you cum again," he nearly implores me.

"We can do it again after you are done," I reassure him. "There is no rush, we got all the time in the world."

He pushes my hand away and plants his firmly onto the mattress.

"Sorry, Mom. Not gonna happen." He runs me through with his cock. "I'm not gonna stop until I hear you scream!"

He begins pumping me in earnest, making good on his promise. He fucks me with abslute abandon, hammering my cervix with the head of his cock and slapping my asshole with his balls. And he is. Almost. Too. Much. Son, you are going to drive me crazy. What am I saying? You already drove me crazy. Look at what we are doing! Fuck, I know I will totally regret this for the rest of my life but right now I can't think about it. I can't think of anything. It is sweet to sin.

"That's it, honey!" I nearly scream at him. "I'm cumming again. You are making Mommy cum again."

"Thank God!" he grunts. "I'm about to fucking explode."

"Just a few more seconds, honey. Don't slow down. Give it to me! Give it to Mommy!"

He pushes with all the might he has left, holding his breath and grunting like an animal. Obscene echoes of flesh slapping onto flesh fill the room and echo on the wall. I quiver and quake to a toe-curling, mind-blowing, world-ending orgasm. I scream loud and obscenely.

"Good God, Mom--I can't--!"

I am too busy piecing together the brains he just fucked out of me to see what he is doing. Too late I realize he pulled out his cock, peeled off the rubber, and showered me with rope after rope of warm, thick, rich and youthful cum.

We stay there for a good while, me on my back and he in his knees.

"Fuck... that was intense!" he says.

"It sure fucking was," I agree. "Why did you pull out?"

"I don't know."

"Did you see it in one of those videos?" I ask, propping myself up on my elbows.

"I guess I did." He chuckles. "You didn't like it?"

Oh yes, I fucking loved it. I want to gather it all up with my fingers and taste all of it. I want more, more, more.

"I didn't hate it." I bite my lower lip. "But next time try to let yourself go while still inside. Mommy likes it very much."

"Sure thing, Mom." He opens another condom.

"W-what are you doing?"

"Replacing this thing. I can't put the old one back on."

"No, I mean... already?"

"I'm still fucking hard."

I look at his cock, and he sure fucking is.

"Well... only one thing we can do about it, then!"

Next, he takes me from behind. He wants to take a good look at my ass, and spank it too. I wholeheartedly appreciate both forms of attention.

"Are you sure you are not tired, Honey?" I ask.

"Like hell I am." He humps harder. "You?"

"Maybe a little, but I can keep going if you want." He does not respond, not with words.

He goes on like this for a good while. We both came twice and we both came hard, so we take our time.

"Say, baby. What do you like more? Mommy's tits or Mommy's ass?"

"That's a fucking impossible choice, Mom." He grunts.

"Thanks honey, but really," I let out a huffing giggle. "There must be something about me you like best."

"There really isn't. I like your tits and I like your ass. I like your legs and your feet. I like your eyes, your hair, your lips. I like how you smile, how you laugh, I like how you fucking moan. I like how you sound, taste, smell, feel. I love everything about you." He is speeding up my third climax, all right. "And you? What do you like about me?"

"Oh, your cock." I make him laugh, but there is pride in his laughter. "It's the best cock I ever had and I love it."

"Sad thing that's attached to me, eh?" He teases me, yet there is a hint of sadness in his voice.

"I can live with that," I console him. "If you can make me happy, that is."

"I'll make you happy, Mom." He begins pumping harder, holding me by the wrists. Nothing I can do to escape him, if I wanted to, which I don't. "I'll make you the happiest mom ever!"

This time we cum together.

After both he and I are done cumming, I turn around and help him out of the condom. Thank God, it held. I stare at the remarkable cumshot, safely held inside its rubbery prison. Should I drink it? Part of me wants to, another part of me wants to do it for Erik, I bet he would like it. No, no, no. I want to save what little respect he may still have for me. I may have let my son fuck me, but I'm not ready for him to learn that I am a bit of a cumslut. I lay the thing down on the nightstand.

We lay together, pressing our nakedness on one another. It is over. We really did it. And now I wait for reality to sink in and stab my heart. But it doesn't. The truth is I feel eerily at ease. So does he, it would seem.

"So..." I timidly ask. "Has the post-nut clarity hit you, yet?"

"Who me? Nah, Mom. I'm a simple guy, I only got two emotions: I'm hungry and I wanna fuck."

I laugh. "Want me to make you a sandwich?"

"No, no, no. Please, don't go anywhere." He sighs. "I don't want this night to end."

"Well, there is always the morning. And we still have one condom left."

"Just one?" He panics.

"It was a pack of three, hun. I was not prepared for you."

"I could drive to the pharmacy, get more."

"Honey, calm down." I caress him. "How about this? Tomorrow morning I'll give you a nice tit-fuck. Sounds good?"

He smiles from ear to ear. "Sounds pretty damn sweet."

"Good, and after that you lick my pussy. You still wanna do that, right?"

"Fuck yeah, I do!"

"We can trade favors as long as you feel like and, when you just can't resist anymore, we can use the condom. Okay?"

"Couldn't I just pull out?" he asks, with big, trembling eyes.

God, he is so cute! I would ride him right here and now, if I could still feel my legs.

"That's dangerous, hon."

"I did it before, I could do that again."

"Nah-ah. Baby, you can fuck this pussy but not without protection. You don't wanna get Mommy pregnant do you?" My question followed by an excruciatingly long and loaded silence. "Oh my God!"

"Hey, you brought it up!"

"Hard no on that."

"It's just a fantasy, Mom. I'm not serious about it." He chuckles. "Unless you are into it, of course. In that case I am totally game."

"I'll pretend I did not hear that."

I go back to cuddling, still waiting for guilt to eventually come puncturing.

"No regrets?" I ask him, one more time.

"My only regret is having only until tomorrow noon." He laughs.

Right, I had totally forgot about that stupid time limit.

"How about tomorrow midnight?" I propose, words escaping despite my efforts to hold them in.

"How about until next week?" He returns, unserious but hopeful.

"Erik..."

"Yeah, yeah. I won't push it, sorry." We kiss goodnight, slow and reluctant. "I love you so much."

"Me too, hon. Try to get some sleep now."

I lay on his shoulder and try to do the same. I know full well that tomorrow at midnight I will agree to extend... whatever this is by one week, and then one month, and then one year. It is terrible. And I couldn't be happier.