A Mother By Any Other Name.

"Not sitting in your old spot," he observed. "I know what you're up to!"

I almost choked on my mouthful, feeling my face flush.

"That yoga instructor!" He directed his eyes toward the television. "Jesus, if I was thirty years younger!"

I didn't know what he hoped could happen between him and a woman on an exercise video but I was just relieved he wasn't aware of where my eyes were actually focussed. I grunted to suggest he'd been correct and smiling he went back to his paper.

Mom bent forward, hands planted on the mat and ass raised to the sky. With her feet spread I trailed my eyes from her heels up to her thighs and onto her bottom, the dark strip between her buttocks capturing my gaze.

I drifted across to her torso, a powder blue tank top that offered no support to her breasts as they hung below her. The top riding up onto her lower back revealing the skin above the high waisted pantyhose. What was she thinking? What was I thinking? Again I metaphorically slapped myself. This wasn't about me. Dad was in the room. He knew what she was wearing. It must have been usual for her to wear pantyhose when doing yoga. I made a mental note to come around more on weekends.

Changing pose I watched as she crouched down in a kneeling foetal position her bottom so rounded and beautiful before she leaned forward, legs spread and revealed the money shot. In the most suggestive pose so far, her ass obscenely presented to me, I could see the lumps of her labia beneath the gusset of her pantyhose. The darkness of pubic hair and higher, the shadow of her asshole. This was surely not normal. I dropped a hand below the table in a bid to not let this opportunity go to waste. My cock already swelling, I massaged my hand along my length, pressing my fingers hard into my erection, a quick glance at my father to be sure I wasn't observed.

Back to Mom, stretching her hands above her head. Even from the side I could see her top was twisted, a large amount of paler side-boob bulging from the material. Don't be finishing, don't be finishing. I screamed in my head as she stood up arching her back in a reflection of the yoga instructor. No! I cried as I saw end credits roll on the screen, gripping my fully erect penis along my inner thigh. Mom dropped again to the floor and began rolling up her mat and I dropped my eyes to my mostly untouched breakfast.

"What are you doing.." She began as she walked towards the kitchen and I held my breath as I thought my masturbation had been discovered. "..next Friday night?"

I finished a mouthful and placed the spoon back in the bowl, not ready for the sight that greeted me when I again looked at her. My first view of her from the front, my heart skipped several beats as she leaned her upper thighs against the table. Barely an inch above the wood, the triangle of her pubic hair bulged out beneath the transparent white of her pantyhose, only the thin seam causing any blemish to the pristine beauty of her pussy.

How obvious my perusal of her groin was to her wasn't certain. That my eyes lingered on her chest as they rose up her body, feasting on the half nipple that had made its way out of her twisted top, the rest of her unsupported breasts, her pronounced pokies, was also a cause for contention but I cared not. I wanted her to know I admired her. That someone other than 'wandering hands' Charlie found her desirable. Even if it was her own son.

"Friday?" I asked her, my hand still on my cock.

She adjusted the yoga mat under one arm and it pressed against her breast causing it to raise slightly, more of the nipple exposed beside the material. How did she not notice?

"There's a play on. Marnie and I had been talking about it for a while. Romeo and Juliet. What do you say about accompanying me? Care for a bit of forbidden love?" She smiled cheekily and I wondered if she was alluding to the play or us?

"Yes!" I eagerly blurted out and even Dad noted my enthusiasm.

"What if you run into Marnie again?" He countered my fervour. "Or for that matter, Charles?" He looked at Mom.

"Well then we'll just have to give them both something to be jealous about," she fired back, skirting the table and wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "Won't we Darling!?" She breathed as she leaned in and kissed my cheek. Her breast pressed hard into my upper arm as her lips contacted my skin, her hip momentarily touching my side. With a hand remaining on my dick, I felt with only a few more strokes I could've cum, such was the attraction I had for her. My own mother! The feeling so confusing and yet so intoxicating. The taboo so alluring.

"Well, I'm off to have a shower," she admitted, running her fingers through my hair in affection as she departed. "I guess you'll be gone when I get out, so same time Friday?"

She said the words walking and it encouraged me to follow her progress, her hose covered feet stepping so lightly on the tiled floor. As graceful as the ballerinas the night before, she crossed the room and it took everything to not follow her out of the room and into the shower. I nodded as she exited, sure I only imagined her gleeful eyes dropping to beneath the table to where I protected my hard-on.

Had she known? Had she noticed me touching myself when she was exercising? Without an iota of shame I certainly hoped she had.

*

Five days. I tried to come up with a reason to drop by my parent's house midweek but struggled to find anything legitimate. A text message from Mom on Wednesday to say she'd obtained the tickets did little to give away any incestuous desire on her behalf. I only hoped my three x's conveyed as much meaning to her as they had to me when I replied.

I wasn't kidding myself I was sure. Random internet searches told me sex between a mother and son wasn't as rare as one might think. Admittedly I may've swayed the results in my favour with leading keywords, videos on porn sites, thousands of stories devoted to the matter on a fiction website. Surely not all were made up, fantasy? Many I was sure, based on actual events. Whatever. They kept me in masturbatory heaven for days as I looked forward to seeing her again. Friday. A night at the theatre. Who knew what dreams may come?

*

I shook my head smiling when Dad yet again informed me she was running late. I cared not. A few minutes more of anticipation after waiting all week wouldn't harm. And when she entered, it was far more than I'd expected. All week I'd pictured her in the black satin dress. What she debuted was the antithesis. Perfectly white, the figure hugging dress began mid thigh and embraced her curves until reaching her shoulders where it seamlessly blended into the long tight lace sleeves. Her boobs bulged; cleavage begging to be admired and with my father infatuated on the game, I was left to do the praising.

"Wow, you look great," was as far as I allowed myself to commend her appearance without going overboard. It seemed to be enough to please my mother, smiling and twirling for me on her bone colored heels. I caught the sight of her underwear through the material and wondered if I should say something, surprised she'd not noted it herself. Voting against it; how DO you inform your mother you can see her panties?

"Thank you," she grinned. "That's more than I got from your father."

"What?" He laughed, still fixated on the television. "I noticed you'd bought a new dress!"

"Yeah only because you saw the money come out of the account," Mom quickly rebuked. She held out both hands and asked my opinion on which clutch to take. "I won't bother asking your father."

"Go the white one," I advised and she smiled.

"Exactly the one I would've picked," she commended me. "It's small though, you'll have to take the tickets, I can't fit anything in this!"

"Gladly," I smiled.

*

No Marnie. No 'wandering hands' Charlie. Not that we noticed anyway. I ordered our now obligatory glasses of wine in the crowded bar whilst Mom visited the bathroom, taking longer than I expected I finally spied her approaching me through the throng, arms folded beneath her breasts.

"Why didn't you tell me!?" She grilled me, a humoured look on her face.

"About what?" I replied unaware of what she referred.

"Ah, my panties!"

The words melted my heart, swelled my cock and I could feel my face blushing.

"What about your panties?" I asked bemused, amazed I was even uttering the words. I held out her glass but she refrained from taking it. Her hand remaining in a ball at her bust.

"That you could see them through the dress!" She whispered, looking around as she did so. "I noticed as I was leaving the ladies. I had to go back in and do something about it. That's why I was so long." She explained herself. It didn't explain what she had in fact done about it though.

"I'm going to put something in your pocket Liam," she confided. "I didn't have room in my purse. Don't freak out!"

Her balled fist reached out and I raised my arm as she took hold of my jacket and placed her hand in the pocket, her eyes looking around the room before lazily back on mine.

"Can you keep them safe?" She almost purred.

Swallowing hard as I reasoned she'd given me her underwear, (what else could it have been?) I nodded and handed her a glass. I didn't know what to say. To do. My fifty year old mother stood before me, panty-less. Her underwear now burning a hole in my jacket, weighing heavy on my mind and my pocket, despite their no doubt delicate nature. It was all I could do to not place a hand in there and caress her offering. To pull them out and inhale their fragrance right then and there in front of everyone.

"So no sign of the ex?" Mom broke my dumbfounded silence.

"Not that I can see," I managed to wrench my eyes from hers to scan the room. "What about your boyfriend?"

Mom laughed. "Oh goodness don't even joke about it," she smiled, sipping her wine before capturing me again in her stare. "Besides, he knows I like my men younger."

The small finger of her hand holding the glass reached out and touched my chest, running down the lapel of my jacket.

"But you raise a valid point though," she continued. "He could be watching us from the crowd, couldn't he?"

I had a feeling I knew where she was headed and helped her along. "It's entirely possible. My acting skills worked last time, what should we do?"

"Well the arm around the waist seemed to have an affect," she hinted.

Draining the last of my glass, I placed it on a low coffee table and immediately lifted my hands to her hips, drawing her body closer into mine. "How's this Mom?" I asked.

"Much better," she giggled. "But wasn't there a kiss on the neck?"

Without delay I pressed my lips to her tilted jaw, feeling my cock harden.

"Oh God that tickles," she laughed out loud. "Are we convincing though? We could just be a very close mother and son. A rose by any other name...would we be even standing here together if we weren't related?"

"What's that rose thing?" I asked confused.

"From the play. If I was just Rose, would you be attracted to me?"

I looked around the room.

"Mom, every man here is attracted to you, you look stunning."

"You didn't answer my question."

And I didn't need to. It was time to lay my cards on the table. Declare myself. Drawing her closer into me I let my body convey my feelings for her. My hands meeting on her lower back, the curve of her buttocks beneath my fingers, only her thin dress between me and her ass . I caressed her slightly as a nervous breath escaped her lungs, before pulling her into me, her breasts, thighs, belly pressed into my own. And most importantly, my erection.

"Oh Liam," she sighed, a look of comprehension on her face. "I can feel it!"

"That's not acting Mom, Rose. Whatever you want me to call you." I allowed my cock to twitch with a pulse of blood against her belly and her breath came out staggered.

"Oh Darling, are you sure?" She again sighed, whispering.

"I've never been more certain."

The next words to come out of her mouth as the bell rang to begin the performance I would remember to my grave.

"Oh God Liam, I'm so wet."

*

Our seats were at the end, flush against the wall, and as we passed along the row I and most of the men we stepped by ogled her ass. Privy to the fact she wore no underwear, the sight for me was particularly alluring.

"Tell me everything," she stated as we took up our seats.

How long did I have? I could've spoken for hours about the last week. About how I felt for her.

"It started with the dress," I confessed. "The black satin dress. You looked beautiful."

"Darling I've always tried to look good for you," she admitted.

'Always,' I thought. How long had she harboured such feelings?

"That night Mom. The things we did. Touching you. It all just felt so right. And then I saw you in the bedroom.."

"You left so hurriedly," she whispered.

"I thought you were uncomfortable. And then you were wearing those pink pyjamas," I recollected as the lights in the theatre dimmed. "I'd never seen you look so hot!"

"I wore it for you but you turned away!"

"To save you from embarrassment. All those stupid things Dad was saying."

She rolled her eyes in the dim light as the curtain opened onto the stage.

"And then I saw you in the morning. Doing yoga," I whispered. "Mom, you were amazing."

"Your father didn't even notice," she giggled and we were 'shushed' from behind. "I did it all for you!"

"Well I noticed!" I whispered into her ear. "And it made me hard."

"I saw you touching it," Mom confessed, equally as quiet and then repeated an earlier phrase. "I'm so wet Liam. I can feel it on my dress." She paused a moment before whispering in my ear. "Pass me my panties."

I'd almost forgotten I carried them what with our conversation and was reluctant to give them back as I felt their silky texture. How she was expecting to put them back on discreetly in a crowded theatre escaped me as I passed them into her hand. She however had no intention of wearing them again. Pressing them between her slightly spread thighs, I watched as she delved her hand up her raised dress and rub them against her vagina.

Her eyes looked back up to mine as she leaned in, her hand still pressing her panties on her pussy. "Open your fly," she purred.

My jacket across my lap, the was no difficulty in tactfully taking out my erection. With the audience's eyes on the performers on stage, no one but my mother and I saw her wrap her now sodden panties around my penis and slowly jack me off.

It was easily the best moment of my life to date. I could feel the dampness from her own sex mingling with the pre-cum that leaked from me. Her small hand expertly stroking with the right pressure to keep me hard yet not make me cum. I moved my own arm across to her leg, my hand caressing her inner thigh as inch by inch I drew closer to her pussy until finally I was touching her. Wet pubic hair against my little finger, my hand bending to cup her exposed groin, a finger sliding along the length of her vulva, tentatively entering as she let out an audible sigh. She squeezed my cock harder in reaction as I pushed my palm onto her clit, my entire hand wet, bearing witness to her earlier repeated assertions.

Her thighs gripped tight around my wrist, her legs rubbing against each other before she unexpectedly grabbed my arm and wrenched it from her pussy. Clutching my sodden hand in hers she brought it to her breast and leaned into me, crossing her legs. "You nearly made me cum!" She whispered and we received looks and a greater number of 'shushes.'

"That's what I want," I softly spoke into her hair.

"Not here, not now. Believe me!" She giggled and the person in front of us turned and tutted.

It was the sign we'd probably gone about as far as we should take it in the theatre and thinking of the repercussions of ejaculating myself, I allowed Mom to relinquish her hold on my cock. Our hands remained together however. Wrapped as one, her panties entwined in our fingers, the scent of her arousal in the air. The expectation of discoveries to come. I couldn't have been happier.

*

"My place?" I eagerly questioned as we drove from the parking lot.

"We can't. Your father expects me home."

I hadn't even thought of him in the last few hours and now his name was raised it left a bad taste in my mouth.

"I thought you said he pays you no attention."

"He always waits up though Darling," Mom explained and it even more dampened my enthusiasm. Mom must have sensed my mood and threw me a bone. "You'll be staying the night though won't you?"

I glanced in her direction as I turned the car for my parent's house, her dress having ridden up obscenely high on her legs, a triangle of pubic hair visible.

"It's probably for the best, I have been drinking!" I agreed.

*

At the front door she stopped and turned to me. For a moment I thought the worst. That being at home had brought her to her senses. She'd changed her mind on everything we discussed; that she'd want her panties back! But no.

"Kiss me before we go in," she whispered. "Whatever happens I want to be able to remember this, us, right now."

I could understand her sentiment. The doorstep. Her entire married, parental life, more than thirty years over this threshold. Things were about to change. We both knew that. I went one better.

"I love you," I confessed, and hoped she could feel the weight. They were the words not only of a son for his mother, but a lover for his partner and I prayed my kiss conveyed my devotion.

Her mouth was as familiar as it was undiscovered. Her lips parting as we kissed, so unmotherly and yet so natural. Why shouldn't a mother and son kiss this way? Was there anything more intimate, any better way of expressing endearment? That we would be shunned by society seemed ludicrous when all we conveyed in that moment was love. And desire. And as her leg rose onto my hip to allow her pussy to press my groin, my hand finding her panty-less ass; lust.

Breathless we broke. Lipstick smeared. Her finger raised to my mouth to wipe away the evidence. Another quick peck to tell me it was alright and then we entered. The family home as always. The clock ticking. The fridge whirring. Many empty beer bottles on the bench. The television on, Dad yelling at the Dodgers. Another beer in his hand. His face ashen as Mom announced our return.

"Marnie rang," the first words from his mouth, his voice accusatorial as Mom and I stood frozen. "Said she saw you at the theatre tonight. And what about this," he continued, barely veiling his anger. "Says you were all over each other!"

My stomach turned as the ramifications ran through my head. I could almost feel my mother shaking beside me. In only minutes we'd gone from euphoria to potential despair.

"It's alright," he broke out laughing. "Look at your faces! I told her about old 'wandering hands' Charlie. Have a run-in with him again did you? I swear Liam, you see him crack onto your mother one more time I give you permission to punch him in the face. Beer?"

I released my held breath instantly, my mother noticeably doing the same as she confirmed Dad's misguided suspicion. Leaving her to explain the situation I found the beers in the fridge, getting one for Mom in case she needed it after our close call. In the background I heard Mom informing I'd be staying the night to which Dad seemed enthusiastic as I checked my phone. Why would Marnie call here? Three missed calls on my cell. I hadn't switched it off mute since the theatre. What had she seen? Surely nothing in the theatre itself. In the lobby? We'd hugged. I'd kissed Mom's neck, held her tight. Had she seen Mom place her panties in my pocket? I switched off my phone. What did it matter? She was my past. I looked up to see Mom walking out of the living room, a quick glance back at me with a wink. Right there was my future.