As any mother will tell you — probably until you are sick of hearing it — sons never cease to surprise you. My own, Josh, is no different in that respect, but I think that maybe his latest bundle of surprises are a little out of the ordinary. Let’s see what you think….
At the start of the summer, just after Josh had sat his exams and began the anxious wait for the results that would, or would not, see him accepted by the university of his choice, life itself gave me something of a surprise. I received a lovely letter informing that after three years of trying I had finally been successful in winning a major web-content design contract. Better yet, with the letter came an advance payment of sufficient size that I could immediately drop all of the fiddly, dull little contracts I had been eking a living out of, and finally pay off some of the bills that had been mounting up ever since my ex had left for pastures unknown the previous year.
I opened a bottle of something cold and bubbly and was already quite well ‘celebrated’ by the time Josh arrived home that evening.
Fuelled by the booze, I waxed lyrical on all of the things that the new contract would enable us to do — buy clothes, go on holiday, eat, that sort of thing — and although my son’s enthusiasm levels didn’t quite reach mine, he seemed happy enough to be sharing a few glasses with me.
Now before anyone raises an eyebrow, I don’t let Josh drink at home as a rule — his father was far too fond of the bottle for my liking, and although Josh is eighteen now, if he wants to drink he can go to a bar with his friends as far as I’m concerned.
That night, though, the rules were suspended, and by ten o’clock Josh was almost as giggly as I was. There hadn’t been a whole load of things to celebrate in the past year and we were both making the most of the opportunity. After twelve months of tension and stress, a few glasses of beer stripped away all the repression and gloom, and we were soon chatting away as openly and delightedly as we had done before the departure of ‘it’.
Looking back now, it’s hard to believe how much more open — and how much more mature — Josh had become in those intervening twelve months. At the time, though, I was far too pre-occupied with my success (okay, and with the booze) to take any notice.
“So, mom,” Josh began somewhere around the eighth beer, “Does this mean you’re going to by some decent clothes, or are you just going to replace all your ratty jeans and baggy sweaters with newer versions?”
“My jeans are not ratty!” I protested. I looked down and saw my right knee poking through the over-worn denim, “Well… not very ratty. And anyway, since when are you my fashion guru?”
“Just offering an observation,” Josh shrugged.
I laughed, “This from a guy who two years ago was wearing a pair of jeans with the crotch somewhere between his knees!”
“That was just a fashion thing Call it a youthful misjudgement.”
“A youthful tragedy, more like. Mind you, it did give Melissa and me a good laugh.” Melissa was our neighbour and was, like myself, ‘blessed’ with a teenage son.
“Gee thanks, mom. Glad to know I’ve managed to cheer up a couple of frumpy housewives.”
“Hey! I am not frumpy and I am definitely not a housewife.”
Josh grinned, “I’ll let you off the last bit, but those sweaters…”
“I like my baggy sweaters. They’re comfortable to work in when I’m sitting up designing stuff on the computer.”
“Point take, but you don’t just wear them while you’re working, do you? You wear them to the shops, in the garden, everywhere. It wouldn’t surprise me if you wore one to bed at night.”
“Well I don’t!” I tried not to let my boy see the lie, and tried to change tack, “And anyway, would you rather I dressed myself up like a middle-aged Barbie doll like Matt’s mother?”
Gemima Gordon, mother of Josh’s friend Matt, had something of a reputation for her dress-sense (or lack thereof) in the local area. A bleached-blonde air-head with a barely controlled weight problem, she wore the absolute minimum that decency — and probably the law — allowed. Her make-up on any given day probably weighed more than her entire wardrobe — and I’m talking about the mirror-fronted oak one she has in her bedroom, not the clothes that are in it.
Josh looked appalled, “No! No, no, no, no. She looks frightening.”
“I thought all you boys ogled her at every opportunity. After all, whenever she sneezes her boobs almost fall out of whatever little top she’s wearing — and she has hay-fever.”
“Well… I mean….” Josh looked embarrassed for a few seconds, then laughed, “Okay, okay, so I guess maybe when we were like fourteen we did think that she was … you know?”
“Cheap? Tarty?”
“Kinda sexy is what I meant. I mean she always shows so much flesh and… well, I wasn’t used to it.”
I laughed, “Are you suggesting that my innate shyness about my clothing drove you to leering at your friend’s mother?”
“Yeah, that’s be right!”
For a fraction of a second, I wondered how much truth there was in that statement — but then Josh grinned from ear to ear. I sighed at him, “In that case you have my apologies. It must have been so traumatic for you.”
“It was just fine as it was, I guess.”
“You only guess?”
This time there was the tiniest flash of evasiveness before he shrugged, “Seriously though, mom, I really wouldn’t want you to dress like Gemma the Bimbo.”
“Nice nickname. And I’m glad to hear it about my clothes.”
“It fits. Well, at a push. Anyway… your clothes. I guess what I mean is… well….”
“So erudite, so sophisticated….”
“Mom! It’s just… like, you know, a bit awkward trying to give you advice.”
I laughed, “Just try — I really do need another good laugh.”
Josh sighed, “I suppose now you’ve mentioned Matt’s mom, that kinda illustrates my point. I was just trying to say that the baggy sweaters and jeans make you look like the dead opposite of her. She’s all over-blown female and you’re…”
“Under-blown male?”
“No! But… well.. maybe sorta… like you cover up the fact that you’re female.”
“It’s the law. Public decency, that sort of thing.”
“I didn’t mean-” Josh broke off and laughed when he realised I’d been teasing him, “Very funny. I just meant that you could wear things that didn’t hide the fact that you’re…. you know? A good-looking woman.”
“I’m….” I was genuinely surprised, and rather touched, “Well, that’s very sweet of you to say so.”
Josh took a deep breath — he clearly figured that he has dived in now so he might as well enjoy the water, “I mean you’ve got a great figure under all those clothes and sometimes I want to tell the other guys when they’re bragging about their own moms that, you know, my mom looks like way younger than she is and she’s like, you know, really pretty even though she’s kinda tiny, and I guess what I mean with the clothes is, guys could kinda see for themselves just how cute you can look.”
My jaw was drooping slightly. “I… ” Words wouldn’t come so I reached across and gave Josh a hug while I gathered my thoughts.
My son was clearly pleased with the way I looked and wanted to prove it somehow with his friends. I guessed that teenage guys often compare each other’s moms in all sorts of ways, and if that was one of them, fine — it wasn’t as if us moms didn’t sometimes have a little sessions like that comparing our sons!
“I’m truly honoured,” I told him, rather stuffily, once I’d disentangled my arms from his shoulders and my tongue from the roof of my mouth, “But even so, I think I’m a little too used to my ratty old clothes to change my ways now.”
“You make it sound as if you’re ancient. You’re only thirty-five, mom and let’s face it, you don’t even look that old.”
“My, my,” I laughed, “Will the compliments never cease?”
Josh’s words and his stoic attempt to appear assured as he said them sent the tiniest frisson through my veins. Nothing naughty or in any way sexual, just a tiny electrical shiver brought about by the realisation that my little boy was maturing into a fully-fledged man, with a man’s opinions and perspectives. As a mother we see lots of these as our children grow up — the first word, the first step, the first journey into school on their own, their first beer, even — but this one was as surprising as the others were eagerly awaited.
Josh tried to look serious and confident, “I mean it, mom. Dad’s long gone and I’ll be off to university at the end of the summer and you’ll find yourself feeling all alone if you don’t make a bit of an effort.”
I laughed, “I think I understand what you mean — you don’t want me ending up on the shelf just yet, huh?”
“I guess it’s something like that, but I was kinda meaning in general, like.”
“That almost made sense.”
“What I really mean…” Josh paused, presumably trying to work out what he actually meant for his own benefit as much as mine, “”I mean… that you… don’t do yourself justice. I already said that you’re, you know, cute and that, but even I forget it sometimes because you always look so… bundled up.”
I might well have shrugged off my son’s comments with a nonchalant shrug but for two things. Firstly, despite his clumsy way of putting things, he was complimenting me and striving so hard to appear mature and reasoned, so it wouldn’t really be fair of me to dismiss his words lightly. And secondly, something very similar had been on my mind of late in any case.
I seemed to recall that ‘back in the day’, I rather enjoyed the dating game and all that it entailed. If memory served me correctly, I was rather adventurous in many ways, not the least of which was sexually. My recently failed marriage had pushed such thoughts so far to the back of my brain that I now needed a telescope about the size of Hubble to even see the outlines of them.
These two reasons came together in the manner of nitro and glycerine. I ruffled Josh’s floppy hair, “You know something? You might just be right.”
My response had Josh raising an eyebrow, “Really?”
I nodded, “Now you come to mention it, I guess I have rather let myself become accustomed to fading into the background and I suppose the jumpers and jeans have become some sort of security blanket. You’re right. I need to have a re-think, I need to jazz up my wardrobe and let a bit of sunlight find my skin.”
“You mean you’re actually going to take my advice for once?”
“Incredible, isn’t it? But yes. Although given your earlier admission about ogling Gemma Gordon, I think I’d better choose the new outfits for myself.”
“Mom! The thing with Mrs Gordon was years ago! And even if it was something recent I still wouldn’t want you to dress the way she does… did.”
“Does, Josh, she still does, as well you know. But you’re right one way or the other because I just don’t really have the equipment, so to speak.”
My son’s eyes flicked quickly across my bust, “Um… well…”
“It’s okay,” I laughed, “You’ve already been more than brave so I won’t ask you to comment on the relative merits of mine and Gemma’s boobs, but you have to admit that I couldn’t wear some of the sorts of things she does. Good god, I’d never stay in half of those low-cut things she almost wears.”
Josh’s discomfort with the direction of the conversation was almost palpable, “Yeah, well, that’s like down to you. I mean, how much you want to sh… what sort of styles and that…”
“Quite right,” I said firmly, quite literally sparing his blushes, “And don’t worry because I won’t go overboard and turn into a mini-me Gemma. I promise I will even ask your genuine, honest opinion of the sort of stuff I do buy so that I don’t embarrass myself by doing the mutton-dressed-as-lamb thing, okay?”
My son’s attitude switched from discomfort to relief, with a soupcon of something less definable, “Yeah, sure, mom. And like… it’s really cool you’re gonna, you know?”
“I know,” I sighed, wondering why thirteen years of full-time education had left my son almost unintelligible at times.
Normally I find shopping a desperate chore and for the most part I’ll buy everything I can from the comfort of my computer and have it delivered. Clothes, I soon re-discovered, were one of the exceptions to the rule (along with pets, sanitary products, and birthday cards), and I spent the best part of the rest of the week mooching around the local shops looking for items for my new, improved wardrobe. By the weekend my spending spree was still in full swing and Saturday saw me roaming further in my quest.
By Sunday afternoon it was a close run thing between my body and my bank account as to which was the most depleted — but at least I had braved it out and achieved my goal.
I was sitting on my bed surrounded by bulging bags bearing the logos of a dozen different stores when Josh sauntered into the room.
“I thought you’d left home, mom.”
“It has been a busy week, hasn’t it? But no complaining about my absence, since this was your idea in the first place.”
“Complaining? I’ve enjoyed the peace and quiet.”
I gave him a sly smile, “Did it provide you with enough peace to invite that Joanne round?”
“Jordan, mom, and we split up like ages ago.”
“You did? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Josh sighed, “I did — not that I should have to, anyway.”
“Oh yes you should. You wouldn’t want me calling the next girl I see you with by the name of a past girlfriend, would you?”
“Mom? Given that you can’t get the names right anyway, it doesn’t make that much difference, does it? Joanne!”
I shrugged, “Maybe you have a point, but I can’t keep up with all these modern names. Most of them sound like holiday destinations.”
“A lot of them are places,” Josh agreed, a note of triumph entering his voice, “It goes back to Victorian times when kids were often named after the place they were conceived.”
“Oh, yes — like Brooklyn Beckham.”
“Just what I meant,” Josh said, “So… out of curiosity, what would I have been called if you’d named me like that?”
I grinned, “Either Mini or Cooper.”
“Oh, very funny I don’t think!”
“Well, me and your dad didn’t have a place of our own then, and it was raining that night.”
“Jeez, mom! Too much information. And anyway a car isn’t a place. I mean it’s not a geographical place, so where were you… um… parked?”
“We were down in the New Forest. A little place called Piddletrenthide. It’s not too late to change your name if you really want to-”
“Okay, okay, I give up!”
“Good. Now, talking about modern trends, I’m beginning to have some doubts about some of this stuff I’ve bought. I really don’t want to look like some desperate middle-aged housewife trying to recapture her youth, so I’m going to throw caution to the wind and ask you to give me your honest opinion, okay? And before you protest, you did promise that you would.”
“I wasn’t going to protest!” Josh had an impressively insouciant look on his face, “I was the one who convinced you to change your image so I’m more than happy to pay the price.”
“Good, again! Now you settle yourself there and I’m going to go change in the bathroom. First up will be my replacement casual stuff, okay?”
Before I tell you what happened next, I think I’d better make one things perfectly clear — I know I was naïve about my son, and about teenager guys in general. To state the ‘bleeding obvious’, I had obviously no personal experience of what drives a teenagers lusts and desires, and to make matters worse I was an only child so I had never even had brothers to gauge things by. Even my closest friends as a teenager were brother-free.
If it looks to you as if I was wilfully misreading the signs in what follows, then I can assure you that you are wrong. I wasn’t reading the signs because, quite simply, I didn’t think there was anything there to read. Not for one tiny, fractional, minuscule, jot or iota of a second did it cross my mind that my son was being anything other than helpful, of was thinking anything other than objectively. I had no experience to call upon, and no reason to suspect a thing.
Naïve, yes, but stupid? No.
And I had better also say that I am not deceiving anyone with this trip down memory lane — not you, and certainly not even me. Every word I spoke and every action I took (before realisation dawned) was said and done in all innocence.
Of course, if I had been more aware, or maybe even simply more alert, things would have turned out differently. Well, probably.
As soon as I started to pull on the first skirt, doubts began to assail me. My legs hadn’t really seen daylight in years, save for the occasional spot of gardening in shorts, and the feel of cool air on the skin of my thighs was almost shocking. I shrugged my way into a new silky white blouse and took a deep breath before heading back into the bedroom.
“Josh? Before you say anything at all there’s a couple of things I need you to promise, okay?”
My son had made himself comfortable in the little armchair I have in the corner of my room and he sat forward, a serious look on his face, “Fair enough.”
“Well, first you have to promise that you will be totally honest with me. No pulling punches or dodging the issue. If I look like mutton, tell me, okay?”
“I promise I’ll be totally straight, mom.”
“Good. And the second… well, I know it’s really a lot to ask, but when you give me your opinions, I don’t want them to be a son’s opinions.”
“Er….”
“What I mean, Josh, is that I want you to try to put yourself into the position of the average guy seeing me. I know it’s hard and I know it might even be a little bit embarrassing, but I want you to try to view me through the eyes of a typical man who maybe hasn’t ever seen me before. Do you think you could promise to at least try to do that?”
“You mean… look at you like maybe a potential date would? Or a client or just some guy in a bar?”
“I guess all three if you think you’re up to it.”
“But that means I’d have to… well look really close… I mean, like, at… well your figure and stuff.”
“I did say it might be embarrassing, but if you don’t think…”
“I guess I can at least try, mom. Let’s see how it goes, okay?”
“Aw, that is good of you, Josh. I don’t know what I’d do without you sometimes.”
Well, I did admit I was naïve, didn’t I?
Happy in my ignorance, I twirled around in the new skirt and blouse ensemble, “So, stranger, what do you think? Too much leg?”
Josh shook his head vehemently, “No way. You’ve got great legs, mom… I mean… should I call you Laura? Would that help?”
“I guess it might. And thanks.”
“Well… Laura, like I said, you’ve got great legs. I mean like, really, you know, nicely muscled and stuff, so I reckon that skirt’s just great.”
“Thanks again. What about the blouse?”
“I guess it looks kinda nice but it’s a bit… I dunno, plain?”
“It’s supposed to look plain to show off the skirt more. Maybe it would help if I didn’t button it quite so high?”
Josh nodded, “Y-yeah. Could be that.”
I undid the top button and turned the collar down lower, “Better?”
“I guess.”
“You don’t sound too impressed, but I think it will work well in meetings with clients.”
“Yeah,” Josh nodded, “You don’t want to look too… um… sexy for clients, right?”
I laughed, “Damn right. Okay then, that’s kind of typical of the client look that I’m going for, so maybe I’ll try something more casual next, okay?”
If Josh blushed or reacted then, I didn’t notice. He just said ‘sure’, and I went back through to the bathroom feeling marginally happier with my first choices, at least.
I stared at my ‘casual’ options for a while, hoping that these would receive a more emphatically positive reaction when I showed them to Josh, and thought back to what he’d said about hiding myself under layers of ratty, baggy clothes. I decided that I needed to make him sure that I had taken his comments on board, but without simply picking out the most figure-hugging items. Trying to pick a look that was sorta sexy but definitely not slutty wasn’t too difficult, I decided, even if I was out of practice.
After a minute or two considering and reconsidering my options, I eased myself into a short, pleated skirt that a decade or two ago would have been called a tennis skirt, and a loose, cotton top with spaghetti straps which left most of my shoulders bare. I took a few deep breaths and headed back into the bedroom.
“Before you say anything,” I said, “Remember your promises.”
Josh nodded and stared. He stared rather hard, in fact, and I had one of those little frissons that sent a feathery wash through my veins. “Er…” Josh began, “I-”
“You think it’s too young for me, right?”
“Sh… God no!”
“Too slutty, then?”
“Not that either.”
“Well then it must be-”
“Mom!” Josh interjected, “I was going to say it’s… I mean, thinking like a total stranger, yeah? I was going to say it’s really sexy. Like… simple, but really shows you off.”
I was surprised — and delighted. “You really, really think so?”
“Mom! I promised I’d be honest and I’m keeping the promise. Trust me, yeah?”
“Oh thank you. And are you totally sure it’s not over-the-top?”
“Positive. You look… you know… really sexy, m… Laura.”
Hearing my son say those words gave me another of those little shivers — mostly in recognition of his growing maturity, but also because of a little flash of pride — that my boy was able to be so honest and appreciative. “Thanks, again,” I couldn’t help but smile, “The only thing that worries me is that I can’t really wear anything under the top or it looks all bra-strap and no shoulders.”
“It.. um.. .doesn’t bother me and I’m sure no guy’s gonna object.”
“I’m sure they’re not as well, but what I meant was, is it too obvious?”
“Not at all. The top’s way too loose to really show anything.” Josh shifted in his chair.
“That’s what I was hoping, but it’s kinda hard to tell when you’ve actually got the thing on. It doesn’t gape too much when I bend forward, does it?” I reached for a stray carrier bag on the floor to demonstrate what I meant.
Josh crossed his legs, “Er… well.. I guess it shows a little bit of… um…”
I straightened up, “Cleavage? I didn’t think I qualified as having one given how small my boobs are.”
“Well yeah, I guess that’s the word, but I kinda meant… well, your… upper chest in general.”
“Too much?”
“I didn’t really see properly…”
“Oh, Josh, don’t worry about looking. After all you’re my son, not some strange guy and I’d rather I made any mistakes with the new gear in front of you. Just tell me honestly what you can see.” I leaned forward again, this time keeping my eyes on Josh.
“Er…” Colour rose in his cheeks, “Actually-”
“What?” I tried to look down my own top and could see quite a lot, but surely Josh couldn’t see that much?
“I can… kinda see your… you know?”
“A lot of my breasts?”
“No, mom… Laura. I mean your…” Josh took a deep breath, “Your nipples.”
“Oh!” I straightened more quickly than before. “Sorry about that, but it’s a real shame — I love this top.”
“Yeah, it’s really neat. Maybe you could adjust the straps or something?”
“I could try. I just hope it doesn’t spoil the way it hangs.”
“It wouldn’t matter at all if you didn’t bend over like that, though.”
I shrugged, “I’d rather be sure at all times otherwise I’d never feel comfortable in it.”
“It’s sure sexy as it is…Laura.”
I looked over at Josh’s earnest, flushed features and felt a flutter of something alien. It passed in a flash and I turned my attention back to the top, “The straps tie right on the collarbone so I think your idea will work. If I undo them and the adjust the length, could you tell me when they don’t turn me into a flasher?”
“Sure! No problem at all!”
I tugged at the right hand strap and it come undone with surprising ease. Placing my arm across my chest to hold the front of the top in place, I quickly freed the other strap and carefully took hold of the ends, moving the point where I would re-tie them an inch or so higher. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay then,” I leaned forward once more, “How about like this?”
Josh leaned forward, “Um… almost.”
I pulled the strap up a little more, “Better?”
“Yeah… I mean I can’t see your actual nipples any more, but still a lot of.. um.. breast.”
“I guess that will do then. I just hope I don’t lose the spot where I need to tie them.”
“Um… I guess I could pin them or something?”
“Oh you are being so kind! I almost don’t recognise you.”
Josh gave an embarrassed laugh, “Well I am supposed to be a stranger.”
It was, I thought, another example of a maturity that I didn’t think that my son possessed yet, and it gave me a gentle emotional kick. More than that, I think in retrospect that it also served to further mask Josh’s behaviour from me — and further deepened my ignorance of all things male and teenaged. I thought of nothing other than directing Josh to a box of pins, and then directing him in the pinning of the straps. Once it was done to my satisfaction, I simply thanked him and walked back into the bathroom to carefully extricate myself from the top.
I decided that things were going so well, I would risk modelling one of two new dresses I had purchased for wearing on more up-market evenings out. The first was a plain, black number that I just knew looked fine on me, but the second I was much less certain of. Dark-blue and silky, the dress featured a slong skirt with a modest slit up both sides, finishing at mid-thigh, and a halter top that was little more than two thin panels of silk which covered my breasts and tied together behind my neck. Like the top I had just taken off, I was slightly concerned that it might show a little too much, but now that I knew Josh would be honest with me about such things, I had no reluctance in finding out from him.
To give a better idea of how the garment would look when I eventually wore it on a proper night out, I quickly pinned up my hair, and even switched by rather plain panties for a new, silky, skimpy pair that seemed more in keeping with such a sexy dress.
Once I was ready, I took my regulation deep breath and walked back into the bedroom.
The first reaction I got from Josh brought a beaming smile to my face. My son’s jaw dropped and his look dripped with pleasant surprise. The second reaction was even more rewarding.
“Oh, mom… that… I mean you look fantastic!”
“I think that’s the biggest compliment I’ve ever received from you.”
“I mean it,” Josh said, openly staring me up and down, “It’s like totally wow.”
“Thanks — and I really mean that. But perhaps you could do a safety check for me again?”
“You, um, mean… check that your… breasts aer properly covered up when you bend?”
“Or even just move, with this one.” I was very conscious of cool air caressing the side of my breasts as I lifted my arms experimentally, “Perhaps it needs to be a bit tighter.”
“Um…” Josh moved a little closer, “Why don’t you try b-b-bending or something?”
Hearing what I took to be embarrassment, I tried to reassure him, “Look, if it’s too cringe-making for you, I really don’t mind if you don’t want to-“
“No! I mean, it’s, um, fine.” He gave a strange, forced laugh, “We wouldn’t want you going out and embarrassing yourself, would we?”
I laughed, “I don’t know bout the ‘we’, but I sure don’t. But only if you’re sure?”
“Yeah, I am. Honest… Laura.”
“You’re gonna get a real big treat for putting yourself through this, I promise,” I told him emphatically and, as it turns out, prophetically. I bent down as I had before and twisted my upper body slightly. As the material shifted, I didn’t need Josh to tell me that the dress wasn’t tied tight enough — I felt first my left and then my right nipple slip under the edge of the material and spring free.
“Oops,” I laughed, straightening, my hands moving to adjust the front panels of the dress, “Sorry — yet again.”
“No… I mean… Oh shit, mom… Laura, yeah Laura. It’s just that I man fuck I am so sorry but I just gotta… I mean like it wouldn’t be right if I didn’t and like I’m sorry in advance but… you have just got the most perfect tit… breasts, I mean fuck sorry — and sorry for saying fuck, but like… mom, you are so fucking hot and, and, and, I’m like so sorry and…. oh fuck!” Josh turned and raced from the room leaving me staring, slack-jawed in his wake.
The first emotion to hit was shock — not at the language, but at the meaning of the words that had spilled from my son. The second emotion cranked up the shock I was feeling by a further few degrees; his words delighted me at a very basic level and they truly were the thing that I now realised I had wanted to hear someone — anyone — say and mean about me. Oh, but the third…
As if I weren’t already shocked to the core, the third emotion intensified that sensation a thousand-fold. Without any input from my brain, my body reacted all alone — and I simply couldn’t deny that I was suddenly, unbelievably, incredibly, wonderfully, scarily excited.
My skin felt as if a low-grade electric current was being poured through it, my nipples suddenly sensitive, my groin suddenly damp and hot. A tremor of excitement rippled through those muscles deep in my belly sending a wave of pleasure through me like a mini-orgasm. I gave a tiny whimper.
Josh hadn’t been embarrassed at all — or maybe, he hadn’t just been embarrassed. My son had been excited by what he had seen and that excitement had triggered something deep and primal and intense inside me. The realisation of what had just transpired — and just how much Josh must have been excited to admit what he had admitted — sent another wave of pleasure through me, it’s intensity leaving me breathless.
A rational part of my brain tried to kick in with objections — suggesting that I misread Josh’s words, or had exaggerated his excitement — but even as I tried to dismiss the events of the past half hour, I just knew that I was clutching at straws.
Of course, knowing and believing are two separate things, and although they are not mutually excusive, there can be only the tiniest overlap at times. I was suddenly assailed with doubt — and as a further little surprise, I found myself wanting to know that I hadn’t imagined Josh’s excitement. I needed to know. I needed to know because it changed our entire relationship on one level. And I needed to know because the way ot made me feel was not something I could experience just the one time.
My logic circuits were misfiring, and the only ‘fact’ that I could focus on was the need to know for sure whether Josh really had been excited by what had happened. I pushed every other half-formed thought and objection to one side and dashed out of my room and along to my son’s.
The door to Josh’s room was pushed closed, but even as I approached it, I could hear frantic activity coming from inside. And ‘coming’ from inside was an apt choice of phrase.
Although Josh was trying to be quiet, the rhythmic soft squeaking of is bedsprings and the heavy panting sounds he was making left me in no doubt as to what my son was doing.
My question was answered, but even so, my libido was trying to convince the rest of me that I couldn’t be absolutely sure without seeing for myself…
At the very thought of what I could do, and more importantly what I could see, my heart-rate trebled, and an excitement like no other pulsed through me. The intensity of the sensation stopped me in my tracks and I let out the softest of whimpers as my right hand moved of its own volition, parting the slit by my right leg and snaking up my thigh to the source of the warm moistness that engulfed me. Torn between wanting desperately to see what Josh was doing after my fashion show — with ‘show’ being the operative word — and not wanting to scare him or upset him in any way, I stood in the hallway and gave in to my need.
Safe in the knowledge that Josh wouldn’t be appearing anytime soon — and in all honesty not really caring that much now anyway – I fumbled my panties a few inches down my thighs and began to frantically finger myself right there outside my son’s door.
I knew that this was recklessness beyond anything I had done before, but believe me when I say I simply couldn’t stop myself from doing it. The intensity of the excitement that I was feeling was so high that the second my forefinger contacted the swollen nub of my clitoris, I could feel every muscle tense up in anticipation of the orgasm that was approaching faster than a sprinter on acid.
Every groan that I heard from Josh was bringing me closer but the next noise he made sent me right over the edge.
When he whispered “oh mom” my orgasm simply exploded within me.
It’s intensity was such that my knees buckled and I sagged to the floor, my body convulsing. Even though I was trying to choke back the moans that wanted to tear their way from my heaving chest, I knew I was making a quiet mewling sound. A tiny part of my brain kept trying to remind me of the vulnerability of my position, kneeling there just outside my son’s door in the throes of an orgasm that he had brought forth from me — but somehow that just made things all the more exciting, and each feather-light touch of my fingers sent a wave of pleasure through my entire body.
Inside Josh’s room the creaking of the bed-springs became faster and louder, and with a grunt my son’s own climax clearly arrived — sending another bolt of pleasure through me.
As his breathing — his panting, I should say — started to slow I became acutely aware of my situation. The skimpy dress had fallen from one shoulder leaving both of my breasts exposed, and I had hitched the hem up to my waist so that my fingers could explore my heat and wetness. My panties had fallen to my ankles at some point and were now hooked around one foot. The orgasm had left me feeling weak and dizzy, but the disorientation I had felt when I realised I was the focus of Josh’ lust and desire had cleared.
A part of my brain was telling me that I should gather myself together, get back to my room and change into something sensible and then set about working out how I would approach Josh — to tell him that I understood his teenage, hormone-driven needs, and that, while I understood, I couldn’t actually approve and that we would have to be on our best behaviour in future.
Another part of my brain had a different idea.
“Josh?”
I heard a muffled ‘shit!’ then, “M-mom?”
“Josh… come out here, please.”
“Mom, look I’m-”
“Please, Josh. Really… please.”
“I…”
“Josh, this is important… no.. .it’s vital.”
I heard the bed-springs creaking and took a deep breath, trying very hard not to think too much. I sat back on my heels and the motion made the hem of the dress fall back onto my thighs. After taking another deep breath I hitched it back up.
I could hear Josh approach his door and then pause.
“Josh, I really need you to come outside.”
“Mom, look, I’m-”
“Now, Josh.”
The door opened slowly and Josh looked out sheepishly. It took him a couple of seconds to register that I was kneeling on the floor — and another couple of seconds to see that I was almost naked, flushed and had thighs streaked with my juices.
“Josh,” I said, softly, “Don’t think that you’re alone in finding this all very exciting, okay?”
It was a short sentence by my standards. But it carried more meaning than any thousand I had spoken before.
I love my son. I want my son to be happy. I don’t want my son to feel guilty about anything. If what he feels for me is frowned upon by the rest of society, I want him to know that those feelings are mutual and that he is not alone. I say it again… I love my son.
Josh’s eyes widened, “Mom?”
“Do I need to tell you what I’ve been doing down here?”
“You mean… you’ve been…um?”
“Relieving my excitement? Yes. The excitement you made me feel… or rather, the excitement that we both felt.”
“You… you’re joking, right?”
The look of shock on Josh’s face gave me a few moments of panic. What if I had somehow misjudged the situation? What if he had no interest in me other than as a one-off masturbation fantasy? What if he now thought I was some weird, perverted-
“Mom?”
My eyes re-focused and I look at my son’s face once more. Now that I was thinking clearly (laugh all you want) I could see that there was more than shock registering there. There was something that, for a moment, I couldn’t place. Then it came to me.
It was hope. The sort of ‘this can’t be happening but I really wish it was’ kind of hope. Seeing that sent a whole new wave of strange excitement through me.
“Josh?” I didn’t have the faintest idea what I was going to say, so I let my mouth have free rein, “I had no idea you felt anything… like that for me, and heaven knows I sure didn’t have any of those sort of feelings for you myself. But… when I realised… when I realised what was happening, how you were reacting to m…. it all came flooding in.
“Josh, I haven’t felt excitement like that before. Not ever. It’s like your excitement has somehow magnified my emotions to levels I didn’t know could exist. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine that I could feel such a depth of desire and I make no excuses or offer any apologies.
“I didn’t know what I was doing when I followed you up here, although a rational part of my brain was telling me I was just trying to find out if your reaction really was what I first thought it was. But when I heard you… heard you pleasuring yourself and you whispered my name.. oh, Josh… that triggered something so powerful and deep within me.”
I rose from my knees and stood before my awe-struck son, “I may still be misreading things. Perhaps you don’t want any more than that one little glimpse of my-”
“Mom!” Josh stared into my eyes until he knew that he had my full attention, “Mom, I thought… I know what people say and I thought I was just plain bad for thinking about you the way I have for the last year or two… but… I mean, I never dreamed that anything like this could happen. What I’m trying to say is I don’t want just one little look…”
Josh’s eyes lowered until he was staring at my partially covered breasts, “Oh, mom… I’ve wanted to be able to stare at you like this for so, so long… and… and…”
“What, Josh?”
He gave a snort of a laugh and his eyes refocused on mine, “Would you believe that even standing here like this after all you just said, I’m too embarrassed.. .or maybe too scared… to say it?”
“It’s a little late for secrets, don’t you think?”
He took a deep breath, “I’ve wanted to do more than look, mom.”
My heart surged into my throat, “Oh, Josh!”
“Sorry!” My son had misread my words entirely, “Oh, god, look mom I’m really, really sorry and I know I shouldn’t have said that, it’s just that I got carried away with-“
I put a finger to my son’s lips, “Shush…. And touch me.”
“You mean…?”
“I want… need you to touch me. And Josh?”
“Mom?”
“I don’t want you to just touch.”
His eyes widened as a range of emotions flickered across his features. But the eyes, as they say, have it, and the look that settled there when all the other emotions had passed was pure and unadulterated desire.
Josh let out a low moan that held the tiniest hint of a growl — a sound that sent my heart-rate soaring and brought heat to my loins. With a tenderness that belied his evident lust, my son raised a hand and with infinite care, cupped my right breast.
The contact of his skin on mine acted like a detonator on a thousand tons of gunpowder. Within a second, his hand was squeezing me feverishly as his other hand tore at the halter of the dress. I fell back against the wall, my own hands scrabbling at Josh’s t-shirt, our arms tangling as first my dress, then his shirt were yanked unceremoniously from our bodies.
There was a moment’s pause as we gazed hungrily at each other’s semi-naked bodies, before an unspoken, un-signalled agreement had us shedding the last of our clothes.
As I kicked my panties aside I had a surge of sensation that sent electricity coursing through me. I felt more naked than I had ever felt in my life — and filled with more desire than I thought was possible. The sight of Josh’s rigid cock springing from his shorts filled me with a lust so deep and strong that I was soon gasping.
The next few seconds — or minutes — are a blur now, a blur of roving hands, gasping breaths, of me encouraging Josh to touch with hands and mouth, of Josh gazing into my eyes requesting permission to kiss me, of me running my hands through his hair and pulling his face close to mine.
The first vivid recollection I have is of the second that his soft, warm lips closed on mine, and the second that followed when the tip of his tongue parted my lips.
If giving free rein to our desires had produced a firework display, the kiss sent things nuclear. In my arms, Josh turned into something other than just my son. His movements became assured and certain of their needs. His muscles rippled under his hot skin as he manoeuvred me backwards through my own bedroom doorway and up to the edge of my bed.
The one and only pause came then, a look that asked a simple question with the most complex and wonderful meaning behind it. His eyes asked, ‘May I?’
Although his question was silent, my answer was sure and loud, “Yes, Josh. Yes, please.”
The final barrier came crashing down and our movements became even more frantic. As Josh pushed me backwards onto the rumpled covers of my bed, I clutched and dragged at him. As my shoulders nestled into the mattress, my legs spread wide in eager welcome.
Josh landed on top of me, out lips locking even before the bedsprings stopped shrieking. His erection pressed hot and hard against my belly and I wailed in anticipation.
There was no permission-seeking look now — we both knew that nothing less than everything would satisfy us — and Josh shifted his weight a few inches until the tip of his cock slid through my scant pubic thatch and then lower, towards the hot, wet centre of me.
There was a second or two then with both of us frozen, somehow savouring the moment even as the lust reached dizzying new heights. As the very tip of Josh’s engorged cock pressed at my slightly parted labia I gave a wail of pure, unadulterated need. With a grunt of his own, Josh rocked his hips forward.
I felt every single millimetre of his length as he slid inside me — every tiny, tiny fractional movement deeper within me. My first orgasm tore its way through me before Josh had even finished that first thrust, the spasms of my muscles drawing him fully inside me.
Our passions erupted and that first coupling was filled with a lust that bordered on the animalistic. Josh pounded that beautiful, hard cock into my welcoming, wet pussy with something like fury, and I urged him on, bucking to every thrust even when the tip of him banged against me cervix.
His hands clawed at my breasts, my thighs, my ass, exploring every inch of me, even as I did the same to him. Our lips alternated between crushing each other’s, and the seeking out flesh within reach, my teeth leaving welts across my son’s shoulders, his teeth draw blood low on my neck.
As our bodies moved as one, the pace quickened until I could feel every fibre of Josh’s body trembling, readying itself for release. I grasped him tightly, making sure he knew to come deep within me, my next orgasm waiting desperately for… and then he stiffened in my grasp and with a guttural roar I felt him explode inside me.
As my son’s juices surged deep with me, my own climax erupted. Its intensity sent me spiralling out somewhere beyond the reaches of my mind, pulse after pulse of pure, unalloyed pleasure that left me gasping for breath, my ears ringing and a low hum of electricity tingling through every nerve fibre.
I came to my senses a minute — or hour, or week — later to find Josh clinging to me, our bodies oiled with sweat. The realisation of what we had done — what we had shared — sent another wave of orgasm rippling through me and I shuddered in his arms.
It was minutes before either of us had enough breath to speak, and to my surprise it was Josh who broke the silence.
“Mom… that was… you are… amazing.”
I stared into his eyes, “You’re not so bad yourself.”
Laughter erupted from both of us, but rather than kill any of the passion we felt, it seemed to have the opposite effect and I felt Josh begin to harden inside me.
“That,” I told him, wriggling my hips a little, “Feels beyond amazing.”
Josh nodded, beginning to rock his hips just a fraction, “What happens now, mom?”
I began to match his movements, “We make love,” I said, simply.
“I didn’t know just how bad I wanted to hear that,” Josh managed a smile as his stokes became longer, “But after that? I mean, if this is going to be just a one-off then I’m gonna have to make the most of-”
“I don’t think it can be a one-off, do you?”
“I sure don’t want it to be.”
“And nor do I,” I told him, realising the truth of the words even as I spoke them. “I didn’t plan this, Josh, believe me, but… I would have done if I had any idea it would make me feel this way.”
“I didn’t even dare fantasises about it,” Josh paused, then laughed, “But if I’d know how it’d make me feel…”
“Then,” I said, kissing him lightly on the lips, “I guess we both have new, secret lives.”
“Yeah,” Josh’s thrusts were becoming firmer, “Ones where I can tell you just how beautiful and sexy you are, and just how excited I get just at the smallest glimpse of you.”
“I’d say that this qualified as more than a small glimpse.”
“And I’d say that the way I feel qualifies as way more than just excited.” Josh smiled, detonating a few fire-crackers in my heart, “Mom… you really are so beautiful,” he lifted a hand and gently fondled my breasts, “Everything about you is perfect.”
I was starting to breathe heavily and panted, “And you have grown into an incredibly cute… no, handsome, young man — even if your eyesight may need checking.”
Josh laughed, and gave a hard thrust to emphasise his next words, “Trust me, mom, no one else could make me feel this way. I want to be this close to you all the time, every day. I want to explore every inch of you and kiss and taste and… oh, mom.”
“You really want all that?”
“Yes, mom. Really.”
“That’s just as well, then. Because so do I. No how about you start your explorations at my breasts, huh? It’s been so long since I’ve felt you lips there.”
Josh gave a slow smile and ducked his head slowly. As he drew a nipple between his lips and then teeth, and as he gave the first tentative lick and suck, I let out a moan of such incredulous delight that Josh paused, thinking that he had maybe hurt me.
“No, no, no,” I assured him quickly, “It’s just fine, my beautiful son. In fact it’s perfect.”
Above me, Josh took control of my senses with mouth and teeth and hands, and inside me he did the same with his gorgeous, hot, hard cock. There was no clumsiness after that, no misread signals. Like lovers of many years, we moved together to mutual goals, intent only on giving and receiving the most pleasure that we could.
That second time, I held on for as long as I could before the muscles deep within my belly began to spasm of their own accord. Josh reacted immediately, the pace and strength of his thrusts increasing, and he lifted his head to stare into my eyes.
As our gazes locked, I started to climax and the second the first moan issued from my mouth, Josh increased his pace yet further, his beautiful cock ramming home, his balls slapping against my butt. With consummate timing, he once more exploded inside me, sending the strength of my own climax rocketing off the scale.
It was mid-morning the following day before we left the bed properly. We had made love throughout the night, spending the short periods of time in between talking of what this would mean to our lives, how we would need to keep our secret safe, my contraceptive arrangements, our sleeping arrangements, Josh’s unrequited desires, my needs — a million things that were all me, Josh, us and nothing else.
When we did finally make our way down to the kitchen for some much-needed sustenance, we just grabbed a couple of robes to cover our bodies, not willing yet to push our intimacy too far away.
As it happens, I don’t think a suit of armour would have been enough to bring a temporary end to the intimacy. This is particularly true because within ten minutes of walking into the kitchen, Josh was making love to me yet again, this time with me bent over the breakfast table. As I sprawled there, riding wave upon wave of joy, I could see bright daylight through the window, the real world just a few feet away from me — and knew that nothing would ever be the same again. It felt like heaven on earth.
That was all more than five months ago now, and Josh and I share ourselves — bodies, minds, spirits — more than ever. The sense of wonder, the sensation of boundaries being exceeded, and the giddying feelings of lust and desire are no less strong than they were at the beginning. Every time Josh enters me I feel a sense of awe and wonder as deep and dizzying as they ever were.
Josh is my lover and, more wonderfully, I have discovered a level of trust with my son that I have never attained with any man before him. I’m not sure whether it is the clandestine nature of our physical relationship that is behind this perfect trust that we share, or maybe just the simple fact that we share a large part of our genetic make-ups and are similar in that way. But I have a feeling that it goes beyond these things — that Josh is someone I would trust implicitly regardless of who he is.
That level of trust has freed something deep within me and the benefits are beyond my wildest dreams. Josh has the natural curiosity of youth and a desire to try everything new that he can think of (‘I need to try everything at least twice’, as he puts it), and, because I trust him so much, I am his willing accomplice.
It’s led me to experimenting with my own desires, to searching for my own boundaries, and together with Josh we have tried all manner of things that I would never have consider before.
We’ve made love in cars, on trains, in the back of a pick-up truck while it sped along the motorway, in the woods behind our house, in a neighbour’s swimming pool while they were away, in a stranger’s swimming pool while they slept inside their house, in the toilets of a bar, underneath the stage at a concert (even my howls couldn’t be heard over the rock band above our heads), and in a maze while lost people wandered within feet of us — to name but a few places.
I’ve discovered that I get aroused by a little, light exhibitionism, and that gentle bondage excites me to an extreme degree. Believe me, you would have to trust your lover implicitly to combine these as we did a couple of weeks ago when Josh tied me up in the bedroom and then invited some of his friends over, pretending to them that I was out…
But for all that, we’re not dumb. We know that it can’t last forever and that Josh, in particular, has a whole life ahead of him with lovers aplenty to captivate. We don’t talk about such a time now, but instead concentrate on making the most of what we have while it lasts.
Whatever happens, though, I now that nothing will ever compare to the way I felt five months ago when I asked Josh for his honest opinion about my new clothes — and to the way I feel to this day when he stares into my eyes, and fills me with his love. It surprises me every time.