Her Best Friend's Son Ch. 02

What if such a chance came again?

She got up, went into the laundry room, pulled out Jeremy's now clean t-shirt, and carefully folding it, put it out for him on the pillow of the spare bed. The knot in her belly hovered between jealousy and a daring new resolve. She tried to remember her friend's exact words -

You know, when we women reach a certain age, it's like, we're not supposed to desire any more. Well I do, damn it. I do, Angela! I desire, and I want, and I can still be a horny bitch!

One thing was becoming clear to her. Whatever it was Susan had done, however far it was she had actually gone, Angela found that it didn't repulse her. If anything, the opposite. She wanted that young man's cock for herself more badly than she remembered wanting anything. And not just that, not just his youthful body. She wanted his adoration of her. She admitted it now - she had slowly let herself remember back to that eighteenth birthday party, and yes, she recalled now that she had worn that sexy blue top. And on purpose. And she had hugged the boy she had watched grow up against her tight breasts - so unlike his mum's - and felt his response. It had been a deliciously naughty moment, allowing herself to pretend that she was initiating him into manhood in some secret way, being his first taste of the many women to come.

But apparently it had not just been a passing moment to him. She had left a lasting impression. If he remembered the blouse she had worn, surely he might also remember that warm, overly-intimate hug?

Or maybe it had started even earlier - maybe his favorite Aunt Angie had always been...special. She had come to begrudge the title, Aunt Angie. Like it was putting her back to where she was supposed to belong. Old. Out of bounds. But maybe she should embrace it. His favorite Aunt. Special.

It was scary. She felt vulnerable at the thought of hoping for so much. As if to buttress against the fear, her mind let her back to images of Jeremy with his own mother. She walked back into her little living room and looked, almost with accusation, at the couch. The question stabbed at her again. Had Susan actually fucked him? Her own son?

***

The next morning Jewel came up to her desk.

"Hey, you been avoiding me girlfriend? I thought we had an agreement. I'm owed a little low-down as I recall." She was smiling, but typically direct.

"Um, yeah, my bad. How about we do lunch today. But...we can't talk at the cafe. It has to be take out."

"So much mystery! This better be good after all your build up!"

Jewel had looked dismissive, but after they had bought lunch, walked to the park, and sat for half an hour while Angela described everything from going out with Jeremy to the nightclub, to even admitting about her panties left in his bed, to then the confession by his mother, Jewel's eyes were big.

"Wow! Like, really, wow! For once, girlfriend, for a straight-laced white bitch, you kind of impress me!"

"High praise I'm sure."

"Do you think, this Susan, his mum, do you think it really happened? Could it be like a fantasy thing or something?"

Angela shook her head. "I...I've wondered myself. I mean, I'm sure something happened. Some real crossing of the taboo line. I've known Susan more than ten years, since grad program. Total straight shooter. And, well, you would have to have seen her."

"Yeah?"

"She was, well, both ashamed of herself and yet glowing at the same time, if you can understand that. Like she was pulsing with..."

"...with sex!"

"Exactly."

"After all, she'd just fucked him right. A couple of days earlier. Her son, right?"

Angela grinned. "Now you're just enjoying being crude."

"Well, you're sure of that other bit, though, tell me that other bit again."

"Which bit?"

"Oh, shit, don't play coy with me girlfriend. Don't pretend you didn't think about it all night."

Angela sighed, feigning reluctance, but secretly relieved that - as she had hoped - Jewel's directness drew out her own feelings. "That he is well endowed?"

"Uh, that would be a big cock you mean?"

Angela laughed. "Yeah, somehow I'm guessing that bit is true."

Jewel whistled appreciatively.

They sat in silence on the bench for some time. Angela was lost in her own thoughts, and suddenly realized that she herself was pulsing with...something. Emotion. Anticipation? Maybe just from telling it all over again. Herself dressing provocatively and going out like she was once again a data-able woman. Dancing until she was thoroughly, creamy wet. Jeremy maybe discovering her used panties in the spare bed, and instead of discarding them, who knew... perhaps tenderly wrapping them around that big cock his mother had described? Susan coming all the way down to London, not to scold her for flirting with her son, but rather to confess her own sinful transgression, having seduced the boy into...something. Something genuinely incestuous. Over the line. And her thoughts ever since spinning out of control, obsessing about the description of Jeremy being attracted to women for sure, but not to the young things his own age. And the possibility that he might come and live with her during the weekdays...

She looked up to see Jewel eyeing her curiously.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"Um, you know. It's a lovely fantasy, right. I mean, why spoil it..."

"Getting cold feet, eh? Fancy a future of heading towards being a cat lady with old dreams and wishful thinking?"

"It's not as bad as that."

"Not quite. But shit, why not go for it. Jeremy's into you, right?"

"I...I think so yes."

"Why wouldn't he be? Your truly lovely, Angie."

Angela's heart skipped a beat, something in the way her friend said the words. "Really?" she squeaked.

"Well, at least you are when you stop dressing like all the working moms in the office. Don't think I haven't noticed you the last few days. Yeah, maybe you should consider a make-over in the wardrobe department."

"Not...not too young."

"Oh, I know you don't want desperately-trying-to-look-teenager. Classier than that. But sexy. Why not try it. See what happens?"

Angela dropped her gaze as she felt herself flush with appreciation of her friend's support.

Right after lunch there was a meeting of the development staff , interviewing a young woman applying for a grant. Angela, Jewel and two of their co-workers, Patty and Samantha, met in the conference room. The woman was delightful - smart, smiling, seeming ready to take on the world. Angela was happy for her, this was what made work feel most meaningful. And then, just at the end of the meeting, her husband arrived to pick her up. A salt-and-pepper guy, smart dressed and tall, with the kind of relaxed bearing of those who have genuinely made it in life.

After they had left, Angela commented, almost to herself, "Wow, they really seemed a happy couple."

Only then did she look across and see the dark looks from Patty and Samantha.

"For fuck's sake, Angela! She was young enough to be his daughter! It's disgusting, this trophy wives shit!"

Angela was taken aback. "Really? I guess, I don't know. She seemed genuinely into him."

"Oh sure," replied Patty. "He's charming and all. And going to open all the right doors for her in life, no doubt. It's just so fucking unfair. I mean, that would never happen the other way around."

"What?" interjected Jewel. "You mean, a woman like us could never hook a guy, say, fifteen years younger?"

"Exactly!"

"Shit, you know it happens! Young stud falls for the experienced older woman. Got the maturity, the real goods in the sex department for him." Angela was sure that her friend was smirking, and avoided looking in her direction.

"That's just a fantasy, Jewel!" Patty spat back. "And anyway, what woman would even want that? We're not like guys. Making out with someone young enough to be our son!"

"Yeah?" Jewel countered. "Let's ask Samantha. She's the only one of us who actually has a grown son. Ever thought about it?"

Samantha looked at her with a strange expression - a mixture of annoyed and something else. "Thinking about it isn't the same as doing it, Jewel."

"Oh, so you have thought about it then!"

"Oh, just, you know. What mother hasn't kind of wanted to be the first. That's all."

"Oh, so...why not?"

Samantha didn't answer, just looked back with a kind of...smoldering look in her eyes.

"You have! Haven't you!" cried out Jewel, her delight obvious.

"Oh, God, nothing like your thinking. Not, you know...just...showing him a thing or two, that's all."

"You posh girls always surprise me."

"Oh, fuck off. Don't pretend you haven't crossed a few lines yourself, Jewel."

"I would never pretend that. Just saying, we're not all that different. So, I'm intrigued. Honestly. Why not, you know, go all the way? Why stop with just...a little experimenting. If you've started already. Don't tell me you didn't think about going there!"

"Oh, piss off, of course I thought about it. I'm human. And a woman. You've brought this boy up for all these years, and he'll do anything for you, and suddenly you turn around and he's grown into a yummy hunk of a man, all, you know, endowed, how can you not think about it."

"So?"

"Yeah, well, I'm guessing if you cross that line, there's no going back, is there? How you gonna put that back in the box?"

Patty got up abruptly. "Meeting over. Enough of this talk."

Angela spent most of the afternoon sitting distractedly at her desk, pretending to be reading a proposal, but in reality mulling thoughts over and over in her mind. Slowly a feeling was creeping up in her - a dull feeling - that all this was fading into make-believe. Maybe they were, all of them, a set of frustrated aging women who were fantasizing about unavailable young hunks. Her 'date' with Jeremy seemed far away, mulled over too many times for her to be sure what was real and what was fantasy. What she recalled of Susan's descriptions were visceral but...could a mother actually have gone that far with her own son?

Angela checked that she was unobserved, everyone else busy. She pulled out her phone and did a few private internet searches. It raced her pulse just to put in the words, even in an incognito browser. Mother, son, sex. She browsed through quickly, avoiding the obvious porn sites. There was a lot of erotica, she presumed mostly written by and tailored to men. Though when she clicked on a few she had to admit they were...pretty hot. Particularly with the added taboo of being furtively scanned while sitting in her work clothes in her cubicle.

But was it all fantasy? She poked her head up again to confirm that everyone else was occupied, and then tried a new search. Why women like sex with their sons. She was stunned what popped up. Rather than porn sites, she scrolled hastily through tabloid exposes, confessional letters to advice columns, blog sites filled with personal stories. Her eyes were drawn to the words at the end of a reader's letter in The Sun - I do things with him I have never dreamed of. I have never looked at another man before, but my body aches for him.

I know it is wrong but I can't help myself.

Eyes glued to the screen, she clicked on another link, a site of personal stories. Following a shocking confession whose details seemed authentic, she read - I don't know how much longer this will continue but I intend to enjoy it for as long as I can. You probably think I am terrible, and I know I am, but I blame it on my son for getting me addicted to his wonderful young sex with his unique rhythm that makes me climax three or four times each time we fuck. For other mothers who are young and attractive. If you have a son old enough for sex, he probably wants to fuck you too.

Her heart thudding, Angela dropped the phone, like a scalding pan lid, back into her purse.

She had dreaded going home to her cosy flat, aware that it was now filled with nostalgic and confusing reminders of Jeremy's visit. But once she had unlocked the door and walked in and dumped her work bag on the kitchen table - her mood actually lightened. She tried to see it from Jeremy's perspective and somehow it all seemed much simpler and more plausible. His love for his mum was so straightforward and touching. He must have known how lonely she was and anxious about his departure. And...he was just so physical, he was just so male. Angela knew that she wasn't supposed to think about gender in such simplistic ways any more, but she remembered how he had he had spun her by the hand, how he himself had moved, and it was just so uncomplicated. He liked women, mature women even. She remembered how he had left the two girls standing, abandoned, at the bar and walked up to her with their drinks. Smiled at her. Gone home with her.

And then he had caught the train back up North to his mum's...

What if she really let herself go there in her own mind? She could feel the hard edge of jealousy hovering on the horizon of her thoughts, yes, but it didn't seem to cool her mood. Did she dare? Angela sat on her own sofa and let herself imagine the scene. Susan wearing that 'revealing' nightie. Her full cleavage perhaps spilling out of the soft cloth, the way-too-short hem revealing a creamy curve of thigh and taunting the boy with the obvious question - whether or not his mum was wearing panties underneath. Knickers as Susan would have called them. She could feel the image coursing through her body like liquid fuel, making her wet. And bold. Susan had touched herself. How? And Jeremy had responded. She played with her own look, sidelong and coy. Through his jeans? Or had he unzipped them? Susan had said she didn't know what was average for a man, but clearly...

Angela shivered, and not from cold. Yes, he was Susan's son. And she had already, on some level, scored with him. But the thought of competing with her best friend, of using her own feminine charms...she admitted it to herself. Shameful or not, the thought turned her on. As intense as the earlier jealousy had been, so was the arousal that flooded through her as she dared form the words in her mind.

Yes, Jeremy was Susan's son, but he was still her crush, and she wasn't ready to let him go.