Loretta helps her son Jordan resolve his sleep anxiety and disruption.
The kitchen was filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee as Loretta quietly went about beginning breakfast for herself and her 18 year old son Jordan, pausing occasionally to gaze out her kitchen window as the early summer sun began to bathe their garden. The garden. Just the thought of it gave her pause, remembering how ten years earlier it had been a godsend to her and Jordan, how her repeated invitations to him to “help Mom” plant seeds had helped them both deal with her and Jordan’s father Pete’s divorce. As divorces went (although it was the only one that either she or Pete had ever been through) she’d seen enough among friends and acquaintances to know that theirs had been about as amicable and reasonable as could be. Pete had remained a good friend, had helped Loretta with his child support and had been a present and responsible dad for Jordie. He’d even agreed to flexible and liberal terms that allowed Loretta to purchase his interest in the house.
But even at that she and Jordan had needed something to hold onto and that spring the garden offered itself. Bit by bit and year by year Jordan’s involvement grew. It started simply when Loretta had Jordan plant “his own” pole beans and then grew almost as fast as the beans. She still remembered the wonder on his face when that first summer he returned to the kitchen with handfuls of newly picked beans. Each year her patient instruction fed his enthusiasm and now ten years later he was a full partner in their garden; more than an equal partner, in fact, as his six foot muscular frame did virtually all of the heavy lifting. The garden had doubled in size and then doubled again so that their freezer was full of food they’d grown and friends had become used to finding “anonymous” bags of carrots, tomatoes, lettuce, and - of course - zucchini on their doorsteps. And Loretta was quick to give full credit to her son when friends and neighbors marveled at their fertile garden, teeming with produce. “He’s my partner,” she’d laugh, “and he’s even learning how to cook what we grow, a real partner”. She frequently reinforced that view of his role with questions like “what’s for dinner, partner?” or “well, partner, what would you like to watch on tv?”
Jordan had so taken to gardening that it was beginning to influence his life choices; he’d announced that when he went to university (“if I get in”) he was considering botany, or at least biology as a starting point. She’d smiled to herself, recalling that she, too, had begun in biology before proceeding on to her medical degree and then to her specialty as an anesthesiologist.
And now it was late May and their garden had already begun to produce; spring peas, baby carrots, lots of lettuce and, of course, radishes. When Jordan had insisted on planting kale (“kale, Jordie? Are you serious?” she’d asked) she’d laughed but there it was, glowing in the early morning sun and she knew that they’d be eating kale Caesar salad pretty soon. But her thoughts quickly returned to her cooling coffee and the quiet house, reminding her that it was time Jordan was up. As if reading her mind she heard the first sounds of her son’s rising upstairs.
Her thoughts became darker and sadder as she wondered what sight would greet her when Jordan came down to breakfast. Would the dark patches under his eyes be there again, as they had been for well over a week? Would they signal another sleepless night? Rousing herself she directed her daily query up the stairs and asked “eggs, cereal, or something else, honey?”
“Eggs, please,” came the dull reply and her heart sank as she inferred another troubled, restive night. Jordan’s sleep deficit, she knew, was growing by the day. The cause was no mystery. From his earliest days and certainly since Jordan and Loretta had begun to live alone together after the divorce, communication between them had been open and total, easy almost. Loretta had very early on taught her son to trust her to never judge him, to never punish him for honesty. And it had paid off as Jordan grew and matured; he was willing to answer honestly any of her questions and to share his worries and challenges. She knew who the bullies were at school, the girls who’d declined his invitation to a date (although that mystified her: he was a strapping, good looking guy, even it was just his mother’s opinion).
And in the name of fairness there was a good degree of reciprocation. She often shared feelings or thoughts with him that would cause most moms hesitation. One of her most honest revelations had come just a couple of years before when her son, awakening to the attractions of the opposite sex, asked her “Mom, why don’t you ever date? Why didn’t you ever remarry?”
It was a hard and complex question for her and she took her time answering. “Jordie, when your dad and I separated I wasn’t interested in any relationship with another man; I had more than enough on my hands to keep things going for you and me,” and then quickly realizing he might get the wrong idea she continued “and don’t worry, Jordan, it wasn’t like it was a choice between raising you or having another man in my life. No, I just wasn’t interested.”
“What about later? What about once we were ok financially? When things sort of got, you know, normal??”
“Huh. Good question. I don’t know. Maybe it was just the thought of how much work it can be to find the right person - I’m not the online dating person, am I? - and then to really get to know them. No, don’t get the wrong idea; I like men, but not enough to look for another relationship. And I’ve always been happy that you are the man in my life, Jordan.” At this they both blushed as she quickly changed the subject.
They both knew the problem with his sleeplessness: exams. Jordan’s final exams were approaching in another week and he’d been worrying about them for the past two weeks. Over a week ago the worry began to tell on his face every morning. In fact the “tell” became louder and louder as the circles under his eyes darkened. As he began to doze off soon after dinner. As she found him occasionally face down on his books, “studying”. They’d tried everything and he’d taken every suggestion she made: no screen time after dinner. No coffee after breakfast. He even tried jogging in the evening to tire himself out and then hot baths to relax. Hell, they’d even tried her mother’s standby: warm milk before bed. But nada. No improvement.
She returned to the stove and dropped three eggs into the simmering water, poached being his favorite. As usual her breakfast mimicked his; two eggs for Jordan, one for her. In fact, as she set the bread in the toaster, she thought that that was pretty much their relative calorie consumption; his six foot body, still growing, easily consumed double the calories that her 5’4” frame demanded. Her regular workouts with their physical challenges, the frequent jogs that she took kept her in excellent shape. She wasn’t a prideful person, but took delight in being able to still fit into her high school prom dress. She kept slim but knew that that simply emphasized her 34D breasts and, every time she exercised or jogged thought that the person who invented the sports bra deserved a Nobel Prize.
She looked back to see Jordan entering the kitchen and her fears were confirmed; his dull eyes and blackening beneath them told the tale of another sleep-deprived night. He helped himself to coffee as she placed breakfast on the kitchen nook table and sat with him to eat. “Jordan,” she began, “I know I’ve said it several times, but you have nothing to worry about; you’ll ace your exams. You always have. You’ll get into whatever university you pick. They’d be crazy to turn down a guy like you with your marks and football talents.”
“Second string, mom, but thanks.”
“The only problem with exams, Jordie, will be your lack of sleep. The way you’re going you’ll probably fall asleep in the middle of the exams.”
“I know, but the more I worry about it the harder it seems to get to sleep.” Loretta knew he was right about that, so let it drop and bent to her breakfast. Shortly after they left the house together, he to walk to the bus heading to school, she to continue her daily walk to the hospital. She loved the hurly burly of daily hospital work and valued the collateral gifts it offered; professional colleagues who valued her skills, laughing banter with staff, her deep caring for her patients, and most of all the intense focus that her work required, always freeing her from her other daily worries.
By the end of the day she was happily tired and enjoyed the walk home. Exercise that her body needed and a quiet time to think. And think she did. And a new possible solution to Jordan’s sleep disruption began to offer itself. Maybe a bit unorthodox, she thought, but possibly their last best hope. She resolved to offer the solution to Jordan after dinner.
Their dinner talk was uneventful but companionable as it always was. What they did, interesting things said to or by them; the usual. Jordan cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher following their rule: if you cook you don’t do the dishes. He trudged upstairs, his pace noticeably slower than only a couple of weeks ago. Loretta sat quietly with her tea and watched him, checked her watch, and picked up the day’s newspaper. “I’ll give him a half hour,” she thought, and turned to the news. After the half hour she put the paper down, glanced at her watch again, hesitated for just a minute while she gathered her courage, and followed her son upstairs.
She reached his door, took a deep breath, and pushed it open. As she feared Jordan was dozing, face down on his open textbook. That was enough for her, enough to set aside her hesitation, as she sat down on his bed, reached over, and lightly shook her son awake. “Whaaa?” he said as his head shot up, startled.
“Dear, we have to talk,” she began and hurried on before she lost her courage with “this can’t go on. We have to do something, Jordie, and I mean WE. I want to help you finally get a good night’s sleep. If you can sleep you’ll do fantastically well next week at exam time. I want to help,” she repeated.
Rubbing his eyes he asked “how?”
“Remember what we used to do when you were little and couldn’t sleep, or had bad dreams? Especially after dad and I separated? Remember that you had about a month or so when you were eight and couldn’t sleep? What did we do then?”
He hesitated, then as the memories returned he colored. “You stayed with me until I fell asleep.”
“Yes, I lay with you, remember, even in your little boy bed, and hummed for you until you fell asleep.”
“And you ‘tickle-walked’ on my back and chest, I remember. You walked your fingers lightly around my back and chest until I slept.”
“That’s right.” And she waited to see if he understood.
“Are you…are you saying you…we…you would stay with me until I fall asleep?”
Grateful that she didn’t have to go further she answered, locking his gaze, and said simply “yes,” and waited for his response. It came quickly he blushed immediately and broke their gaze, looking at everything in his room…except at his mother.
“I…mom…I…that would be a bit weird, wouldn't it? I mean…”
“I know, dear, believe me I know. But desperate times need desperate measures, don’t they? Like I told you this morning at breakfast; there’s absolutely nothing for you to fear academically, Jordie; you’ve been honor roll all year. For a couple of years, in fact. But if you don’t get some sleep - good sleep - you’re going to crash. Take it from me; I’m a doctor, remember?” At least the last part elicited a smile from him.
“When?”
“Tonight, as far as I’m concerned. If it works I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep and then go back to my room. Deal?” He lifted his hand to their standard gesture to seal all agreements and fist-bumped his smiling mom. “I know it’s early, Jordan, but you’re not going to be able to retain anything now; you were asleep when I came in. How about you get to bed and I’ll be back in ten minutes?” And with that she rose, kissed her son on the top of his head, and headed to her own room.
Closing her door she leaned against it, drew a deep breath and then heaved a sigh of relief. She was surprised to find she wasn’t trembling but suddenly the room felt unusually warm. “Why?” she asked herself. “It’ll be like ten years ago; I’ll calm him into sleep and that will be that.” Or at least that’s what she hoped. She quickly showered (she didn’t know why; she usually showered first think in the morning) changed into a clean nightie, leaned her head against her door and took another deep breath and then walked purposefully - she hoped - to her son’s room.
There are moments you remember all your life. No matter your age, you might remember “where you were when such and such happened”, or your first kiss, or watching a walk-off home run in the World Series. Or the instant you got your first real job. The moment Loretta walked into her son’s room that evening was one of those moments. She paused for just a second inside the door and instantly took it all in: her son lying in bed beneath the covers, the soft summer breeze moving his curtains, the darkening amber light filtering through those curtains. She quickly crossed the room, lifted the covers, and slipped beneath them. She realized Jordan had rearranged his pillows so that they each had one.
And now she was struck with uncertainty. What now? She realized that Jordan had rolled over from his back onto his side to face her. She reciprocated and rolled to face him. Even though there were only inches between them it seemed almost a chasm. She knew it was up to her, so steeling herself she bent toward him, kissed his brow, and said “roll over, Jordie, toward the wall.” He did and she closed the space between them and pressed against him until she was perfectly spooning him. “Ok?” she whispered.
“Yeah, I think so,” came his quiet reply. Encouraged, she gingerly reached around and took him into a hug, unconsciously lightly caressing his side and then his chest. She felt, as much as heard, his sigh, felt his entire body relaxing against her. She’d thought she had something like a plan; share his bed for a few minutes, ‘tickle-walk’ him until he slept and then head back to her own room. But as generals say about battle plans - that none survive first contact with the enemy - her plan disappeared the second she slipped into her son’s bed. Without thought and by sheer instinct she leaned into him, breathed in his scent, and kissed his neck where it met his shoulder. She realized with a shock that she was pressing her breasts harder than necessary against him, that she was being aroused by the feel of her thighs pressing against the back of her son’s legs. Then she felt the tingling beginning in her vagina.
“This can’t be happening,” she thought, startled by her body’s disregard for her thoughts, for her resistance. “This CAN’T happen. It WON’T happen. Oh. My. God,” but she realized that she had not been in bed with a man - and she realized with another shock that her little boy truly was now a young man - in ten years. She tried to distract herself with her original mission: to ensure her son’s good night’s sleep. She returned to her ‘tickle-walking’ as her fingertips lightly danced around her son’s chest, relieved to feel his breathing quieten and become slowly rhythmic. It was enough to help with her distraction as she realized her goal was near. She continued to lightly touch his chest but her mind rebounded to her earlier taboo thoughts as she realized “he’s got excellent pecs. My son is actually built. I wonder what his abs are like,” and allowed her fingers to dance lightly down over her son’s ribs toward his midriff.
She found his abs and smiled to herself “almost a perfect six-pack,” she thought, “why haven’t I noticed what a young man he’s become?” But just as she smiled with that thought the back of her fingers bumped against something. Instantly she knew what she’d touched and she snapped her hand back, her fingers feeling almost scalded. “Oh my god,” for the second time as she realized her son was fully erect. She knew the male anatomy well, she’d seen more than her fair share of male penises, erected or “at rest”, but - shock as she realized his length. “To touch it there, so far up his midriff…it must be…” her mind halted at the vision forming in her mind. Not the ten inch monsters famous in porn films, she knew, but not very far behind. She continued to lay with her son, her hand now rested safely on his hip as his quiet steady breathing continued.
Finally, satisfied that Jordan was sleeping soundly, Loretta carefully slipped from his bed and returned to her own room. She got into bed but cast her blankets aside, feeling for some reason unseasonably warm. She lay still for long minutes, her mind a maelstrom of wild thoughts as she tried to marshal them into some kind of order and to make sense of her feelings. After several unsettled minutes she was startled to realize that her hand, the one still feeling the scalding touch of her son’s erect penis, had wandered of its own accord to her mons and was gently squeezing it, beginning to probe. She realized that she was almost alien to her own touch; it had been so long that she couldn’t recall the last time that she’d pleasured herself. But the hand’s touch was instantly calming, almost a sedative to her fevered mind so that she soon drifted into sleep.
But her sleep was anything but untroubled as she awoke early, still tired. She lay in bed repeating the images of last evening. The good news: her presence had helped her son sleep quickly for the first time in weeks. The bad news: her casual, errant accidental touch of his erection had reactivated sexual circuits in her body and her mind that had been dormant for…how long, she wondered. For over ten years, she realized, since well before her divorce from Pete. She concluded that any more thought on the subject was dangerous and headed quickly to her shower.
Back in her kitchen, back in their morning routine, and having imbibed two quick cups of coffee Loretta was partially restored to her usual morning energy. Partially enough, she hoped, to fool her son. Jordan wasn’t long behind her coming to breakfast and the first sign of his improved energy was his unbidden arrival for breakfast; for the first time in weeks she didn’t have to shout up to him to ask his preferences. The second sign was his improved demeanor as he smiled when he sat down at their kitchen nook grabbed for the cereal, and thanked his mother for the steaming coffee she put before him. And the last and best sign, her physician’s eye noted, was the lightening of the blue-black bags under his eyes. Yes, she thought, definitely a better night’s sleep.
“Good night?” she asked.
“Yup, much better,” he managed between mouthfuls of cereal and toast. “I woke up a couple of times and had a bit of trouble getting back to sleep, mom,” he paused then, and then said “it was kind of like it was harder to get to sleep when you weren’t there.”
She turned away, feeling her color rising, fussed with her egg on the stove, and said over her shoulder “so, what can we do about that?” feeling her knees failing her and wondering “where is this going?”
“Well, umm, could we try you staying with me all night? I mean, the bed is big enough and maybe just for weekdays? Mom, it really did help for you to, well, you know, to cuddle with me last night. I went right to sleep. And I feel a lot better this morning.”
That was the clincher, she knew; her son’s health was almost the entire point of her being, she thought, and was powerless to refuse him. “I’ll think about it today, ok, honey? We’ll see.” And that was enough for Jordan as he bent to his task of finishing breakfast. As he ate she turned away again and thought “thank god he didn’t say it…didn’t say ‘sleep with me’,”. Even the casual phrase, fraught with so many different meanings, even thinking it increased her heart rate and seemed to warm the room. “What is happening?” was her unanswered question of herself. Is there a phrase loaded with more meaning, she wondered.
As they left the house together for their regular morning walks; he to the bus, she to the hospital, the spring in his step was unmistakable and she knew she really had no choice. Tonight she would sleep with her son. And just sleep, she told herself even though she felt that heartbeat, felt that heat with the phrase floating through her mind.
Her duties at the hospital were unusually light that day so that on a pretext she left work early but didn’t head straight home. Instead she walked to a nearby coffee shop and bought a newspaper. She didn’t really want it, but it offered a kind of camouflage that discouraged interruption from other customers while she thought. She had learned from long experience that without the camouflage men would likely hit on her. She knew by that that she was still attractive but she wasn’t interested; at least that’s what she thought. And think she did. She thought about her son, growing more and more used to her new perspective, that she wasn’t living with a boy any more but with a young man. A responsible, caring, intelligent and…here her mind veered off…fit and muscular young man.
Sitting with her refilled cup she was suddenly shaken by a memory. It was the moment over ten years ago when she’d been calmly weeding their garden when she was stunned by the realization that she didn’t love Pete any more. And that, honestly, he probably didn’t love her any more either. She’d sat back on her haunches, her garden trowel unnoticed now in her hand. She held the thought in her mind, turned it and examined it from every perspective, much as she might have examined an interesting object unearthed from her weeding. In a flash of insight she knew she was right, knew that it couldn’t be changed, and knew that Pete hadn’t yet reached the same understanding. She and her husband were no longer in love. Friends, yes, but not lovers.
She was surprised even more by the absence of grief in her sudden insight; all she felt was a quiet sadness. She knew that Pete would refuse to accept her view, would argue that things were fine, that with a little work they could rebuild their love. She knew that was virtually impossible and immediately began to plan for a time when Jordan was away from the house so that she and Pete “can talk”. And she immediately knew that she would have to work very hard to carry her son through what was going to be, she knew, a very sad time.
But she’d done it, and she credited Pete with finally accepting the end of their marriage and the help he’d given Jordan through the biggest change in the young boy’s life. But now as she sat sipping her coffee she was afraid that she was experiencing that same sudden and blinding flash of insight but this time it genuinely frightened her: was she sexually attracted to her son? Did part of her want to have sex with him? Was he going to be her partner in every way? Or - and her body actually shuddered in her booth - was he already her partner with neither of them really knowing it? She feared the certainty that was trying to intrude into her thoughts, tried to deny any inevitability with “this can’t happen. It’s the worst sin a mother an commit.” She realized that there was a battle going on within herself; her hope that it wasn’t going to happen, that she was a good mom, she knew, was fighting with her sense of the inevitable. She shook her head to clear it and buried herself in her newspaper with exceptional attention.
Back in their home, Loretta was glad of the distraction that dinner preparation provided and hoped, as they ate together, that Jordan didn’t notice her nervousness. She marveled, in fact, at his calmness, his happy demeanor, and at his restored appetite as he helped himself to seconds. “God, I wish I was as calm as him, she thought,” as she picked at her food. “Will you be studying tonight?” she asked.
“Nah, I think I’ve got it down pretty good,” he replied. “I think I’ll turn in early like last night, mom. That really helped me and I think I’ve still got some sleep to catch up on. Is that ok with you?”
She blushed as she answered “no, dear, that’s fine.” She dropped her head to hide the pink coloring that she knew was flooding her cheeks and continued “I’m sure you’re right. You get ready for bed and I’ll…ummm…come along soon.” Was it her imagination or did her son seem to clear the table and load the dishwasher faster than usual? She sat quietly at the table after he’d hustled upstairs and sipped her cooling tea. What was coming, she wondered. Could she control herself? She was determined, more determined than she’d ever been in her life, that she would not make the first move, that maybe there would never be a first move. That sense of inevitability that she’d felt in the coffee shop that afternoon hovered on the edges of her thoughts.
She felt a tingling between her thighs. She couldn’t stop it even as she tried. The possibility of sex after ten years, the fear she felt of an irresistible force tugging her toward her son’s bed upstairs didn’t excite her; it frightened her. So absorbed was she with the knowledge of how forbidden was the thing that she feared was coming that she almost felt a sense of doom, almost a Cassandra of Greek myth, predicting a calamity to come. But her body somehow didn’t see it that way. Somehow it was lying to her as the tingling continued. Finally she rose from the table and followed her son upstairs.
She showered, (why, she asked herself, why am I showering before going to bed?) She donned a clean nightie (again, why? Why not simply wear last night’s nightie as she usually would) but feared the answers. She walked slowly to her son’s room, paused for a second outside his door, took a deep breath, and walked into the room. Her son’s welcoming smile, the widest smile she’d had from him in weeks, was, she realized, completely innocent. It stabbed her heart to see in his smile the eight year old son she’d cuddled and comforted as she and Pete went through their divorce. It was a sudden relief to her and allowed her to refocus completely on the task at hand: comforting her son so that he could sleep. Holding tight to this thought she lifted the covers and slipped into his bed. He smiled once more and quickly rolled to his side so that she could move across the bed to him, spoon with him quickly and, it seemed, naturally. She took him into a hug, kissed his shoulder in, she hoped, a maternal way, and waited the short minutes as his breathing slowed and he slipped easily into sleep. She was finally able to relax herself and revelling in the warmth of his body against hers she followed him into sleep.
But once a mother always a mother and she awoke with a start several hours later as she sensed, as much as heard or felt, her son’s distress. His body was shaking slightly and his muffled cries signaled his troubling dream. Loretta knew instantly that if she didn’t act her son would awaken, destroying his desperately needed redemptive sleep. She quickly slid across the bed in the hopes that her resumed spooning and hug would calm him. It had its effect, but not enough. She began quickly to caress his chest, his side, his hips but his dreaming distress continued. She was so focused on calming him that she forgot the scalding touch her fingers had felt the night before and as her hand lowered to his midriff she realized with a shock that her son was fully erect again.
Desperate times call for desperate measures, she reminded herself, and moved her hand to cautiously touch her son’s hardened cock. Her entire body shivered as her fingertips lightly measured Jordan’s erection, squeezed it gently, traced its length. “Unbelievable,” she thought. “Bigger in every respect than his father’s.” Realizing she was crossing forbidden line after forbidden line she cupped his balls lightly as errant thoughts flooded her mind; “this guy is a stallion…I made this stud. He’s going to make some young woman very, very happy.” Her touch, her light grip seemed to have calmed him but slight moans continued from her son. By instinct alone she began to softly stroke him, felt his cock impossibly grow even more under her touch. It seemed almost an inverse relationship; as his cock grew slightly in length and hardened more…his distress seemed to lessen, his dream seemed to vanish.
Within one or two minutes his body had stopped its twinges and his breathing had returned to normal. With one last stroke Loretta released her son’s cock, rolled onto her back, and waited for her own breathing to slow. Without even realizing what she was doing, one of Loretta’s hands drifted across her breast, touching it lightly, brushing her erect nipple while her other hand descended and found her mons, cupping it lightly. Jolts of sexual pleasure that she hadn’t felt in years rocketed through her body until she reached the fastest orgasm of her life. Now it was her turn to shake the bed as she rolled to her side, her body curling into a foetal position until she drew herself across the bed, pressed herself against her son, took him in a tight hug and shook them both gently as the waves of her climax hit her again and again. “I’m going to hell, I’m going to hell,” she thought, and then “god, I can’t take him with me. I have to stop this.” But she knew deep down, hearing Cassandra’s echoes in her mind, that that wasn’t going to happen.
Morning arrived and it took Loretta a second to realize she was waking up next to a man; it had been over a decade. She glanced to her side and watching him sleeping for a few minutes, she was wrapped both in blankets and in a warm maternal feeling for her son. She quietly left his bed, returned to her own room, dressed, and headed downstairs to begin the day.
She heard Jordan’s shower on the floor above and noticed immediately his improvement as he practically danced down the stairs to breakfast. His smile was immediate, the bags beneath his eyes almost gone. “Much better, I guess?” she asked.
“Absolutely. I slept like a log, mom. I think I had a bit of a nightmare but it seemed to just vanish. It didn’t affect my sleep and I feel great.” Hearing that, Loretta hoped her sins were forgiven. Or at least that instead of going to hell maybe it would only be purgatory for a while for her.
The day approached normality for them both and Jordan, being first home, cooked their dinner. As she cleared the dishes he announced “I think I’ll try a little studying tonight, mom before bed. Ok?”
“Sure, just let me know when you’re headed to bed.” And with that found her novel in their living room face down on the coffee table and soon immersed herself in it. About an hour later Jordan announced his intention to “hit the sack” so she closed the book and headed upstairs herself.
Even after only a few evenings, as with so much in their lives together, a routine had quickly established itself. Jordan was already in bed when his mother joined him and with her quick kiss to his shoulder their bodies molded themselves into a quick and close spooning. And to her continuing relief Loretta listened to her son’s quick drift into sleep. But just as the night before several hours later she was awakened by Jordan’s muffled moans and mild spasms as his nightmare struck. This time she wasted no time, took a deep breath, moved to hold him tightly in her embrace, reached down, and found him as erect as he’d been the night before. She gave his stiff cock a gentle squeeze, felt its instant calming effect in him, and again began to stroke him as his agitation reduced with each stroke. She wasn’t driven by the sheer eroticism of her stroking a man after her ten years in her post-divorce sexual desert. She wasn’t trying to bring her son to his sexual peak. Once he fell back into an untroubled sleep and before his orgasm erupted she gave his erection one last caress, rolled over again onto her back and immediately attended to her own need, her own arousal, finding herself almost soaking wet, finding her finger’s probing and thrusting easy as she quickly reached her orgasm. It was her second in two nights and again gently shook their bed as she rolled to her son and in the midst of her climax held herself against him until the waves of pleasure finally receded and allowed her to join him in sleep.
The improved sleep for her son had its obvious and rapid effects; his energy and focus had returned, his worry for his approaching exams was reducing just as rapidly and he was returning to his old self, thought Loretta. She made a simple calculus; if her nightly “ministrations”, her quasi-hand jobs for him gave her son the gift of restorative sleep it was well worth it. She refused to consider, though, the collateral effects on her, her now nightly need for self-pleasuring. Once exams were done, once their worrisome burden was shed, she thought, they would return to their old lives.
“How are you feeling about your exams next week, Jordie?” she asked at breakfast.
“Good, mom. I’m totally on top of all my subjects and your helping me sleep has really helped. I think I’ll be ok.”
“And, of course,” she said, “there’s always life after exams, isn’t there? I mean, there’s the prom, for starters. What a perfect way to end your high school days. You have a date, right?”
“Yup. I’m taking Emma Proceviat. You remember Emma?”
“Yes, of course; I know all of your posse. What a change your generation is from mine. When I was your age,” (she hated sentences starting with that phrase), “we paired off early in the school year and asking a girl to prom was almost like asking her to marry you” at which both erupted into laughter. “But you and your cohort are much smarter; you travel in packs and hang out in groups. You’re pretty much communal, aren't you? Going to prom with one girl or the other isn’t such a big thing, is it?”
“No it isn’t, but I have to admit I kind of like Emma more than the other girls.”
As each returned to their meal Loretta noticed Jordan’s light blush and conjured up her memory of Emma. Yes, she thought, Emma stood out; small, slim, dark brown hair, pert and perky…a lot like me, she thought. A LOT like me…except for breast size. Did her son realize that he was kind of taking his mom to his prom? Naahh, she thought, a ridiculous thought.
By now they were comfortable in their new routine; dinner done, dishes cleared, Jordan upstairs for a short study time and then to bed; still earlier than had been their old routine but still rebuilding Jordan’s sleep bank. It almost felt normal for Loretta when she slipped into her son’s bed. Almost routine to give him his quick kiss before sleep and take him in a close hug until his sleep quickly followed. It concerned her that each night he seemed to be visited by worrisome dreams, but she was confident that her whispered calming words, her light caresses and, most of all, her new therapy of lightly stroking him would banish the dreams and return him to calm sleep. It interested her as well that with each sleep disruption came his erection. She wondered what could be the connection, if the dream somehow had erotic undertones until she remembered a casual comment made once by another mom to the effect that “18 year old boys; they’re about 85% penis,” and she considered that perhaps there was no connection, that perhaps her friend had been right and that her son’s default state in sleep was sexual arousal.
And this night was no different. No, that’s not entirely correct. For after both fell asleep and after several hours of slumber Jordan’s nightmare returned, almost on schedule. Her maternal instincts instantly alerted, Loretta moved to her son and found him on his back, his body wracked with mild spasms, his groans signalling his distress. Her hand quickly leapt to his chest, caressing his muscles as she whispered her quiet words of reassurance. As his anguish continued she went directly to her strongest medicine, found his fully erect cock, and began her ministrations, stroking him, moving closer until their bodies were touching. This disruption to her son seemed worse than previous nights’ and she began to feel that inevitability that she’d felt in the coffee shop as she cast one leg over her son, her nightie riding up to her hip to allow her new posture. She felt him calming by degrees until his body seemed to jerk, a mild jolt, and then recede into calmness.
Excellent, she thought…until it was her turn for a shock as she felt her son’s hand slowly find hers, still resting on his hardened shaft. She gasped, her breathing halted as his hand descended on hers and squeezed it. If she had trespassed, she instantly understood, her son was welcoming her as his grip tightened. His touch seemed both permission and request. Startled, she froze for a moment like the cliched deer in the headlights until she heard his soft, sleep-addled muttering “Emma…ahhh…Emma…” and realized Jordan hadn’t woken, that somehow her stimulating him had been rolled into his dreams. She carefully lifted the covers as she continued to stroke him, gently at first and then more firmly, happy to feed his dreams of Emma. It wasn’t long before she heard him grunt, felt his body shudder, and watched with wonder as jet after jet of his seed shot up and onto his chest, almost reaching his face. She actually giggled as, fascinated, she tried to calculate the sheer volume of her son’s cum. “Never mind how any woman can accommodate that cock,” she thought, “how could she ever contain that flood?” and giggled again.
Remembering her maternal duties she quietly withdrew from her son’s bed and returned seconds later with a cloth, carefully wiping and collecting the torrent of his sperm that lay on him. All the while she watched him carefully to see any signs of wakefulness but, satisfied the job was complete, returned the cloth to the laundry, slipped back into bed, and nestled up against him again, falling easily back to sleep. Her last conscious thought was “I’ll have to bring a cloth to bed each night now.”
And so she did. It became another nighttime ritual for Loretta to masturbate her son and it embarrassed her to realize that she almost looked forward to his nightly distress, to her immediate response, and to continuing to feed his dreams of sexual pleasure with Emma, his prom date. What had begun as a ritual became a rite for Loretta; the maternal pleasure in her easing her son’s sleep disruption was mixed with her hope that, as she put it to herself, “this will be enough…it won’t go any further with him…” so that her anticipation was growing almost by the day. Or rather by the night. It carried them right into Jordan’s exam week and, judging by his confident manner at the end of exams, had helped him achieve the high marks he needed to give him options to choose the college he wished.
The prom was the last major event of the year and of Jordan’s high school days. It was the week immediately after exams were done. It seemed natural to Loretta that her slumber duties were done. She regretted that and it was with considerable reluctance that she brought the subject up. “I think your sleep pattern has returned, Jordie. I think you’re back to normal, don’t you?”
“I don’t know, mom. Maybe. I still feel some problems, like bad dreams or something. Could we give it another week or so just to be sure?”
Loretta hoped her relief didn’t show. The several weeks’ sharing her son’s bed, even with the nightly interruption and her “comforting” her son, had been wonderful for her. It had stirred feelings she hadn’t felt in well over ten years and she’d become more and more confident that she could control them; to permit a small, warming campfire, for example that wouldn’t grow out of control to a wildfire. “Ok, I think we can do that and see how it goes.” And with that the two of them turned their focus to prom, to ensuring that Jordan’s suit fit, that transportation had been settled, and that basic ground rules were in place.
Then came the final night before the prom. Varying their routine only slightly, by unspoken agreement they headed to bed at the same time. Comfortably settled, Jordan turned to his mother and said quietly “thank you, mom. Thanks for taking care of me, for seeing that I got my sleep. I don’t think I could have finished my exams without your help.” Loretta teared up at his words and instinctively leaned over to him and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. It surprised neither of them. It seemed somehow appropriate and after holding their gaze for a long minute. Loretta rolled to her side, silently inviting her son, for once, to cuddle her instead of the other way around.
Not surprisingly to her a few hours later Loretta felt Jordan beginning his nightly disturbance but this time he was still spooned against her. This time she felt the unmistakable thrust of his erection against her. It was like an erogenous current had opened and her son’s sexual power was now flowing to her. She trembled for a second and even considered delaying her usual ‘treatment’ for Jordan. But after a minute she turned to face him and lightly nudged him until he rolled onto his back, still sleeping, still reacting to his dream. Confident now after at least ten episodes of her stimulating and calming him, she knew that it was unlikely he would awaken. Again she heard his quiet, almost guttural murmurs of “…Emma…yes…Emma…”.
Perhaps it was her growing confidence, perhaps it was a sense of a tectonic change in their lives that would come with her son’s high school graduation, but Loretta suddenly decided to change their routine and quickly rose, lifted the covers, leaned over her son, and released his erection from the constraints of his briefs. Taking one last admiring look and one last deep breath, she leaned down, opened her mouth as wide as she could, drew her lips back over her teeth, and began to take her son in her mouth.
It wasn’t easy for her. She was a small woman with a small mouth, but it was large enough to accommodate his glans and once she’d contained it her exultation grew as her tongue tasted her son’s pre-cum for the first time, swirled around the head that her hands had stroked for over a week and a half. Sucking quietly she began to push herself down all the while knowing that without a lot of practice she could never take his entire length. Her husband had never valued oral sex so that taking her son’s rigid shaft into her mouth was a liberating experience, even with the obvious limitations she was encountering. It didn’t seem to matter as she felt Jordan’s sleep-activated hands migrating to her head, fingers burying themselves in her hair, gently guiding her, all the while muttering “Em…Emma…”. She began to move up and down, pausing occasionally to circle his glans with her tongue until she felt the unmistakable approach of his orgasm. She hadn’t thought this far ahead, she realized, but before she could do anything his cock began to pulse and shoot jet after jet of sperm into her mouth. She instinctively began to swallow repeatedly and managed to take almost all of his cum before the jets ceased.
Slowly rising from her son’s now flaccid cock she reached for the nightly cloth, wiped the small amount of his seminal fluid that dripped from her lips, glanced at Jordan to be sure he was still sleeping, replaced the cover, and snuggled against him, smiling herself back to sleep even as she realized there were fewer and fewer lines left to cross.
The next day was a strange day for both of them. It was Saturday, the day of the prom so it was a curious mix of calm before the storm but also relief after the stress of final exams. But despite the day’s calm both Loretta and Jordan felt a slight buzz of excitement as the evening grew nearer. It was easier for Loretta to fill the day with domestic tasks as she did their laundry but her maternal spidey sense felt her son’s edginess so she suggested that perhaps the house could be vacuumed. That task dispatched quickly and efficiently by her son, she mentioned the state of their lawn. Without further ado Jordan had hauled out their mower and was hard at it when she paused to watch him, thinking “he really is my partner. Who needs a husband when I’ve got a guy like Jordan?” Finally, in the late afternoon she filled the day with a suggestion that maybe their garden could benefit from a good weeding. That did the trick; as always it totally absorbed both as they quietly weeded, staked, trimmed, dead-headed, and thinned their vegetables and flowers.
Rising from her knees, stretching her back, Loretta glanced at her watch and announced “time to get ready, big guy. Hit the showers,” as her son, smiling, dusted his hands and headed into the house. After that things flowed naturally. She wandered into the house, listened to her son’s shower upstairs, washed her hands, and fixed herself a sandwich.
She sat at their kitchen nook, sipping her tea until she heard Jordan descending the stairs. Looking up, her breath caught in her throat as she saw this young man - “who is that,” she asked herself, “how did he get into my house?”. Showered, shaved, decked out in his suit and tie it was as if her son had added years to his actual eighteen. Her mug of tea stayed half way to her lips as her delight and surprise soaked in. Recovering, she placed the mug back down on the table, rose, and met her son at the foot of the stairs. Her gaze moved up and down, appraising him from head to toe until she nodded, smiled, and said “you’ll do, partner. I’m so dusty that I can’t hug you so I’ll take my turn in the shower now.” With a peck on his cheek she raced upstairs, showered, and quickly headed back downstairs with dampened hair, wrapped in her robe.
Now she could properly hug her son and she did. But given the eight inch difference in their height in truth it was the son hugging his mother, taking her in totally with his strong enveloping arms. Loretta trembled slightly in the warmth of her son’s embrace and hoped against hope that he hadn’t noticed. Craning her neck she smiled at him and reflexively kissed him lightly on his lips. If Jordan was surprised by this he didn’t show it. Instead he drew back from the kiss, looked into his mother’s eyes for a few short seconds, and then returned her kiss, lightly…on her lips. She knew she was blushing now but didn’t care as, her eyes watering, she brushed her hands up and down her son’s sides and said “time to go, Jordie, Emma’s waiting,” and, pausing, said more quietly “I love you, Jordie.”
“I love you too, mom,” and with that they broke their hug as Jordan checked for his wallet and keys, gave Loretta a quick peck on her cheek, and left the house. As she returned to the living room couch and sat down, as she heard their car leaving, Loretta took a deep breath and wondered “what was that about? Did he feel what I felt?” and knew that that Casandra prediction was rearing its head again deep in her chest.
She sat resting after the day and letting her mind wander where it would. After a while she rose, fixed herself a plate of snacks, opened a bottle of chablis, found an old movie on tv, and settled in for the evening. But the movie couldn’t hold her attention as her mind kept returning to images of her son at his prom, smiling and dancing with his date Emma. Despite her best efforts her mind slowly erased Emma from her images and replaced them with…her. She shuddered slightly and poured herself another glass of wine and, abandoning all sense of guilt, rose from the couch and took her son in an imaginary embrace as she slowly danced around the room. As the song in her mind ended she stood for a few seconds and then descended to the basement, moved boxes around until she found the right one, rummaged in it for a few minutes and emerged with what she was looking for. She held it in the dim light, appraising its condition and thought to herself “it’s in pretty good shape”. She carried it upstairs to her bedroom.
It was an hour later when she heard Jordan’s approach, heard him turn off the car and open the front door. She’d turned the tv off and had found a late night radio station, the music turned down low. As he entered the house Jordan asked quietly “Mom? Are you still up?” At the sound of his voice she rose from the couch and nervously smoothed her dress. Her prom dress. The pride that she’d felt when she’d put it on, still fitting, in her bedroom an hour ago now became nervousness. She smoothed the dress again, its clinging fabric shimmering in the room’s dim light, felt its slinky touch as it rode her every curve like a second skin.
“In here, dear,” she said, her voice just as quiet as his.
He walked to the door and she heard his soft gasp and his first words: “Emma?” as he reflexively turned and looked back to the front door before he recovered and said “Mom? Is that you?” He was frozen in place until she took a step toward him, into better light. “My god, mom, you look just like…” and closed the space between them. He took her into his arms as she lifted her head and kissed her son lightly on the lips. Almost immediately her fears vanished as he returned her kiss, pressing his lips more firmly against hers. She began their dance as her body moved softly to a golden oldie playing quietly on their stereo and as he quickly took the lead, moving them in a slow circle in the room. A second song, another slow dance, a third, much more passionate kiss, and they stopped dancing. To Loretta it wasn’t only the dance that stopped; it seemed to her as if everything, even the earth, had stopped. She looked up into her son’s eyes and saw the unmistakable love in his eyes. And her eyes? They filled with tears as she moved again into his embrace.
It was time, she knew; now or never. She drew back slightly and looked into her son’s eyes. Their gaze locked and they had the most important conversation they’d ever had, though neither spoke a single word. Back and forth flew the silent words: Are you sure? Yes. Can we ever go back? I don’t want to go back. Will things ever be the same? I don’t want things to be the same. Is it wrong for us to do this? Wrong for who? The world? The world will never know. For us? No, it’s the truest, most honest thing we could ever do.
By now it was unclear who was asking and who was answering; both, really, until Jordan ended the conversation by bending down to his mother and taking her in another kiss. She took the initiative and led them to another place as she parted her lips and invited his entry. And he immediately accepted her invitation as his tongue met hers and as their tongues quickly replaced the dance that had just ended. Loretta revelled in her son’s groan as their kiss lingered. Finally she broke the kiss and said their first actual spoken words since Jordan had entered the room. “I love you Jordie. Can we be partners now, real partners?” and was rewarded with his smile.
She took his hand and led him from the room, to the stairs, to her room, its door open and inviting, her bed ready. She led him to the bed, gave him one more kiss, his hands now taking their own agency as they drifted up and down her curves, as Loretta shivered to feel the young man’s strength in her son’s hands. She turned in his arms so that his caresses could find and fondle new curves. She felt his hands cup her breasts, straining against the fabric of her prom dress, now much more full than her 18 year old breasts had been. She shivered again as his thumbs brushed her hardened nipples, as she felt his undeniable hardness pressing against her. She leaned forward so that he could find and release her dress’s zipper. Her mind shot back to that evening in her son’s bed, that accidental brushing of her fingers against his cock, as her spine felt scalded, a rapturous scalding, as her son’s fingers drew her zipper down.
Her dress fell into a shimmering puddle on the floor and she turned to him. Fully naked. His hands were shaking as his fingers, his mind, his entire body absorbed the totality of what they were about to do. Loretta took over, quickly unbuttoning her son’s shirt, unbuckling his trousers, descending quickly to pull his briefs down after straining to reach around his fully erect cock. But even her familiarity with his size could not dampen her astonishment as it sprang to life, proudly erect and shouting its readiness as she leaned in and kissed his glans. She heard his groan, felt his strong hands burying themselves in her hair as she took his glans in her mouth, tasting his pre cum again, circling it lovingly with her tongue until she felt his legs shaking.
It was time, she knew. This is not where she wanted her son’s semen deposited. At least not tonight. So she rose and threw the covers back, hurried onto the bed, and pulled him in with her. She covered them both; partly with her mother’s instinct and, she suddenly realized, partly to mimic their recent routine. But it was anything but routine as Jordan quickly wrapped his strong arms around his mother, as she threw her leg over him, as they began their first true lovemaking. Jordan reveled in the new freedom Loretta had given him as she offered her entire body to him. He celebrated that body as his kisses moved down her body, taking each breast in turn, licking, sucking, kissing each nipple as her body shook under his tenderness. He would have continued his downward voyage and her entire body spasmed again at the thought, but she drew him up with “no, dear, I want you now.”
He understood. He understood, she knew, even though she was his first time and she smiled, then laughed as she realized that she, Loretta, was about to take her son’s virginity. And take it she did as he quickly rose above her, as she quickly spread her thighs for him, as he gripped himself (she was too lost in the rapture of what was to come to do the honours for him), found her opening, and began to press himself into her.
“UUUNNHHHH…” Jordan dimly heard his mother’s mixture of grunt and groan as he began to press into her. “UUUUUUNNHHHH…” again; louder, longer, as he felt himself stretching her, invading her, slipping into her as her juices and his pre cum eased his way.
“Tight,” he managed, “mom, you’re so tiiigghht”.
“It’s ok honey, I can handle it. I can take you. Just go slowly, please.” And it was good that she asked, as, half way into his mother’s vagina, Jordan was seized with an overwhelming urge to thrust as hard as he could, to bury himself totally in his mother. But her words struck and he waited for a few seconds, slowly withdrew a few inches, and pressed himself in again, gently, gaining another inch. He paused again, his will quickly draining, drew back, and pushed again. He was almost entirely in his mother now when she whispered “ok, dear, it’s ok. It’s amazing. I love you Jordie. Now take me. Fuck mommy, Jordie.” It was the permission his entire body craved. Her words, her consent, the wet heat of her vaginal muscles that held his cock in a velvet grip all released him as he drew himself back and quickly and easily thrust himself his entire length into Loretta. He filled her, she knew, as she gasped. He filled her like his father or any of the very few lovers she had had never could. Jordan began a slow tempo, overwhelmed with his first full experience of a woman. Within seconds he realized his mother was answering his tempo with her own as her hips lifted to meet him.
Their rhythm quickened, their sounds a mix of grunts, groans, and sighs until Jordan managed “mom…I…unnnhhh…I love you” and made one last thrust, his deepest as she felt him press against her cervix and realized with a shock and a thrill that her son was coming, his cock now pulsing, her vaginal muscles feeling the same throbbing waves that her hand had felt in nights past as she had eased his nightmares. But this was no nightmare. This was both of their dreams come to reality as his throbbing seemed unending, as she felt his hot seed flooding her womb, as she laughed and their eyes locked, as they kissed again and again, their kisses interrupted only with “I love you” exchanged over and over.
They had done it. Done IT. Loretta had taken her son’s virginity. But had she? Had she taken it or had he given it to her? And in truth, she thought, they had both been virgins as she’d never had a cock of a size anywhere near her son’s. She felt like she’d just had sex for the first time.
New to this and exhausted by his first fuck, Jordan had collapsed onto Loretta who smiled and bore his weight until finally whispering “Sweetie, I need to breathe”, bringing her son back to reality. He quickly rolled off her and onto his side. She rolled as well to face him. Her fingers traced his cheek and they kissed lightly. “Jordie, that was amazing. Thank you.”
He kissed her again and lay quietly with her, exploring her expressions until suddenly his eyes widened and he said “mom…mom, you didn’t…ummm…come, did you?” Her quiet smile was his answer. “Oh god, mom, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I came so quick. You’re so…hot that I couldn’t hold back.”
She kissed him again and smiled. “Honey, you were amazing. I mean really amazing. Don’t worry; it was fantastic for me and you’ll last longer soon. I mean it. And another thing; I know you’ve taken sex ed and I know you know about making sure you’re using protection. Sweetie, a tip: when you’re buying condoms you’re going to need to buy size XL. Maybe XXL. I’m not kidding,” at which point they both laughed.
But her laughter turned to sadness as she felt her son’s soft cock slip out of her with a soft plopping sound. They lay quietly together for long minutes, hands drifting about each other’s body, foreheads pressed together. Finally Jordan turned his attention to her breasts and began again to explore them each in turn, fondling and then bringing his lips and tongue to the task. She lay back, breathing deeply as her son’s lips found and squeezed each nipple, as his tongue licked and circled them, as he began softly sucking. Her mind shot back 18 years, to this same man suckling then as each of her milk-full breasts fed him. She realized the profanity of the thought but smiled nonetheless and pressed her son’s lips to each breast in turn.
Eventually skills long forgotten began to return to her and she gently pushed her son onto his back and began to stroke him gently, laughing at the rapidity of his erection. Glancing up she laughed again at his proud grin, a grin that was almost a smirk. Under her tender touch, her gentle strokes he became harder than he had been only minutes before. His louder groans marked her progress and his increasing stiffness.
Finally she judged them both ready and swung herself over her son, straddling his thighs as she began to squeeze and stroke him more aggressively. Her smile was gone, replaced by a hunger in her eyes that her son had never seen. She moved upwards thighs sliding along thighs until she was ready and leaned down to whisper to her son “I’m going to fuck you, Jordie, I’m going to fuck my little boy.” His answer was to reach up and cup her 34D breasts as her entire body shuddered in response. He leaned up to take each nipple into his mouth in turn, sucking, licking, kissing. Her arms grew tired and weak bearing her weight above him but the ecstasy of his tongue and lips on her breasts forced her to carry on.
Finally she lifted herself slightly, reached down, found Jordan’s huge cock in full readiness, and dropped herself onto it in one smooth movement, impaling herself on the most magnificent cock she’d ever seen, the shock of her pleasure measured by her loud shout “AAAAHHHHH. Oh god, Jordie, you’re…UUUNNHHH…”. Skewered by her son’s immense staff, filled by his stiff cock, she was transfixed. Barely conscious where she was, Loretta began moving, lifting herself, sliding up and down her son’s long shaft, dropping to him in periodic hugs, kissing him deeply and passionately while all the while maintaining her rhythm, dimly aware of the soft sounds of flesh on flesh as Jordan’s cock pierced her again and again until suddenly, mid-hug, it hit her. It hit her with a force she’d never experienced. No lover, no husband had ever given her an orgasm like the one that her son now gave her. Locked in their embrace Loretta’s climax shook them both, shook the bed…shook her world. The waves kept hitting her as she threw her body upright, threw her head back and repeated the shout that had started their lovemaking. “AAAAHHHH..OH GOD, JORDIE…I…OH GOD…” She was out of control, her shouts echoing through the entire house. She had given herself totally over to an ecstasy she’d never felt. Her orgasm compared to past climaxes like the sun compared to a flashlight. She began to wonder if the waves would ever stop and hoped they wouldn’t.
But they finally did. Not immediately but in diminishing impacts until she was finally able to breathe again and collapsed onto her son’s chest, barely able to whisper “thank you, honey,” - several breaths and - “thank you. I told you you were amazing, didn’t I? Now it’s your turn,” as she rolled off her son, keeping him deep inside her all the while, and invited him to take her once again. Which he willingly and immediately did, resuming his position above her, his cock still firmly and deeply imbedded in his mother. He began pumping into her, every thrust met with her “Unnhh…unnhh…unnhh,” music to his young ears. But she wanted more. “Fuck me, dear, fuck your mommy. Fuck me hard. Hard as you can.” Lust, she knew, was replacing love and that was fine with her. It was all cock and cunt for her now so she said it out loud. “Fuck me, Jordie, put that amazing cock into my cunt.” Suddenly she’d released a force he’d held in reserve as he began pumping his mother with a power neither of them had ever seen, almost violently plunging himself into her. Loretta felt herself being pushed deeper and deeper into her bed…into their bed, she realized, as she suddenly knew that this would be their bed from now on. Finally she said “what am I, Jordie?”
“You’re..unhh…uhhh…my…uhhh…mom.”
“Who are you fucking, honey?”
“I’m fucking my…uhhh…mom.”
“What’s my name, Jordie?”
“It’s…unhh…uhhh…Loretta.”
“Who are you fucking, Jordie?” barely able now to talk at all, her eyes rolling up into her head.
“I’m fucking Loretta. I’m fucking… unnnhhh…LORETTA,” almost a shout.
And with that, just as she realized that he’d lasted much longer this time his turn did, indeed, arrive.
“Loretta, I’m going to…”
“Give it to me, honey, give mommy all you’ve got. Fill me up, sweetie, Loretta’s dying for your cum.” And with that Jordan found his release as his entire body stiffened, as his seed shot from his sac, up the long tunnel of his cock and began to erupt, shooting jet after jet, rope after rope of his semen into his mother. His hips had a mind of their own as his thrusts continued until with one last deep push he was fully inside her, again pressing against her cervix, again flooding her with his seed. Through the fog of his pleasure he felt his mother’s body convulsing beneath him as her second orgasm joined his, as their bodies in perfect synchronicity reached their very peak of pleasure.
As for Loretta, she felt the flood of her son’s hot semen soaking and warming her womb again but it could have been molten lava scalding her for all she cared as the impact of euphoric wave after wave wracked her body, convulsing it, her legs reflexively wrapping themselves around her son, holding him to her and in her. Finally and by degrees they descended together from the heights of their incestuous ecstasy and Jordan, remembering his mother’s earlier smiling complaint, rolled off of her and took her into a cuddle.
“What did I tell you; see how long you lasted?” His smile was so wide it made her laugh. And then, more serious: “are we going to hell, dear?” Loretta asked her son.
“Too late,” he grinned, “we’re already in heaven. But if we’re going to hell I hope we go together.” She laughed at his wit and gave him a quick kiss. After a few moments he turned serious with “mom, uh, Loretta I…uhh…are you, you know, are you, well, speaking of protection, are you…?”
More smiles from his mother as she realized he’d accepted their new equality, still mother and son, yes, but now lovers. Loretta and Jordan; lovers and partners in every way now. She continued to smile and said “no, Jordie. I have to admit that I haven’t taken any precautions for years. Not since your dad and I separated, in fact. I’ll get a morning after pill tomorrow. We’ll be fine. And then I’ll make arrangements for real protection.”
“You mean…?”
“Yes, dear. I mean what you’re thinking. I love you and I love this. We need to talk. We really need to really talk. We have some very important decisions to make. But not right now. Right now we need to…” and laughing, she rolled again onto her son as their third round of lovemaking began.
And talk they did, the next day. After dealing with Jordan’s morning wood, of course. They talked. They talked about what they were doing, what they felt, about girlfriends and, hopefully, a wife, about potential men in Loretta’s future. They talked about Jordan’s college. They agreed they might never stop what they’d started the night before (weeks ago, really, thought Loretta, without Jordan even knowing). They talked about Jordan being three hours’ drive away at college, about Loretta’s future visits (“lots,” said Jordan, smiling) and about the hospital there and how Loretta might even move. How they might live together again. And how they would love together and make love together again. Always.