Mother Son Chance Happening

We separated quickly and she went on her way. I don't know where exactly on her body did my erection press, but I know that it was a very noticeable contact between us. There would be no doubt in her mind then that I was horny; that I was horny because of her; that I was sexually aroused by her.

I didn't reveal my feelings on purpose; it just happened; it was an accident. But, my dick did touch her and it was hard, very hard, and she must have noticed it. She didn't react to it; but she must have noticed it.

I didn't know what to feel after she was gone. Was I to feel afraid that she may bolt once and for all, and put an end to our get-togethers? Was I to feel disappointed that she had no reaction to the touch? Was I to feel excited that things had revealed themselves, albeit, accidently?

All I could do was to wait for the next day to come. As it turned out, she didn't come the next night to watch TV with me.

I kept waiting and waiting, but she didn't show up. I couldn't go to her room and check on her because my father was sleeping there. I assumed that she must have decided that it was time to end our little fantasy, or most likely my little fantasy. There were hints all over as to what was going on, but when my erection pressed into her, and she felt for herself what my desires were, she decided it was time to put an end to everything. I felt sad though, and quite depressed. It was inadvertent, but I had to face the consequences.

She did show up the second night but she didn't stay too long. I didn't have a chance to ask her why she didn't show up the night before, or if anything was wrong, or if I did something wrong. It was purely an accident, but she must have realized the enormity of our little game. When she left, she didn't kiss me goodnight. She only said a verbal good night.

She was definitely giving me hints that it was over; whatever it was that we had started. She must have realized that we were getting a little carried away and that she needed to stop things from going any further, as I had plans to take things further. She was quite perceptive and had put the brakes on things.

I felt very disturbed. There was a sadness that I could sense around us and between us. It was like we had broken up even before we had started any kind of relationship. We couldn't even discuss the change. We couldn't even discuss what had happened, as there was nothing really to discuss.

I was missing what we had developed, but I accepted what she was doing. I felt for her, realizing what she also must be going through. If my reaction was anything to go by and if we could extrapolate from my pain a sort of similar feelings on her part, then I felt bad for her as well.

There were no more goodnight kisses or hugs. She did spend time watching TV with me during the nights that followed, but her goodnight wishes were always verbal.

When my father went out of town again, I didn't know if we were going to be doing our usual routine of watching a rented movie and spending more time together. I was hoping that we would, but I prepared myself for our time together to be rather short.

It was short, but it was me who cut it short. I decided to leave early and go to my room. I couldn't take the distance between us and I didn't feel good watching a movie, knowing that it was not the same as before or same as I had wanted it to be. I wished her a verbal goodnight and left her watching TV all by herself.

She must have known that I was upset. She must have sensed that I wasn't happy.

I went to my room and closed the door behind. I laid there on my bed, moping.

My heart jumped into my throat when I heard a knock on my door a while later that night. I rushed to the door to open it. There she was in that nightie from the other night with spaghetti straps, smelling of that nice perfume, and looking quite lovely with some makeup on.

She extended her hand forward and said: "Come. It is too early to turn in."

I let her take my hand and lead me to the TV room. I was overjoyed with this sudden change, but didn't know what it really meant. We sat on the same sofa and watched something on TV, I can't remember what it was. I was too busy with my own thoughts and with this turn of events.

We stayed up for a while but soon decided it was time to go to sleep. We got up together, turned all the lights off, and made it to the hallway where my room was and where we normally said our goodnights. My heart was beating quite fast as my brain made wish after wish.

I had restrained my feelings to the point of choking them to death. I wasn't sure if there was going to be a repeat of our goodnight kisses with wet lips or our hugs. I had to suppress my emotions so much that I was practically numb.

It turned out that she also had restrained feelings as she moved into me once we were in front of my door. She raised her arms to place around my neck. I placed my arms around her waist and pulled her gently into a full hug. Our necks were touching, our chests were in full contact, and my arms wound around her with some added force. I held her against myself tight. She must have felt my anguish in that hug.

Once we hugged so strongly, it was only natural that our lips would also meet. I rubbed my tongue on both lips and wet them thoroughly. As I pulled my head back to come face to face with her, her mouth came close to mine and my mouth went for hers. I had bottled my feelings up and all of a sudden they were allowed to ooze out; nay, gush out. I placed my lips onto hers and opened them a little to take her lower lip between mine.

I don't know how to explain the incredible feelings that I had at that moment when my mother took my upper lip between her lips and kissed me gently. Her lips were soft like rose petals. I hadn't felt them like that before. Then she slid her mouth down a little and took my lower lip into her mouth and kissed me again. Her lips moved across my lips, leaving behind a trail of sweet saliva as I felt my lips touching her teeth. I pulled her upper lip into my mouth and sucked it softly while moving my mouth around it, caressing the width of it.

That kiss was long enough for us to taste each other's sweetness quite nicely. Our bodies instinctively pressed against each even more. I pressed my erection into her, this time on purpose; she didn't pull away. She didn't press back either, but at least she didn't pull away.

The kiss had to end though, once our feelings were expressed so clearly. She rested her head on my chest as I gently, but firmly, held her in my arms. There was a long silence that followed as we stood there holding each other.

She was the first one to break the silence. "What am I doing?" She whispered. It was a question more for herself than for me, so I didn't answer. I actually didn't have an answer.

Another pause, and then she pulled away. We stood in front of each other with slight distance between us. She raised her arms to fix her hair and as I watched her fiddle with her hair, with her breasts pushed forward, looking so sexy, I wanted to reach out and take her into my arms again. Something held me back and I'll never be able to explain what force it was that held me back.

She fixed her hair. Then she fixed her nightie. Then she held my face in both of her hands and kissed me lightly on the lips. She held that kiss for a while and then said: "Good night," and she was gone.

Just like that.

We had finally expressed clearly what it was that we wanted from each other. At the same time she had expressed clearly with her question that it was the wrong thing to do. Her abrupt departure only confirmed as to how wrong it really was. There was guilt associated with the whole intimacy between her and me, and the guilt was so strong that she had to run away.

Our only way to deal with that guilt was to pretend that nothing had happened, like all the times before when we dealt with milder forms of guilt by pretending like nothing had happened. But something did happen this time, and it was difficult to ignore it. My father was still out of town, so we had another evening together. I knew that it was time to either confront the issue, or to stop altogether. There was no way we could continue sitting on the fence.

But how?! How was I supposed to confront her? Was I supposed to go to her and ask her directly as to why she was running away from me when I was pressing my erection into her? Just the thought seemed ridiculous. I couldn't really confront anything. I could only hide.

After standing there for a while, I went into my room. I even turned my lights off and tossed and turned in my sheets. There was no sleep in my eyes, but I didn't want to be awake either.

It was fairly late when I heard a slight knock on the door. At first I didn't notice it, thinking nothing of the noise, but I had to respond by the third knock. I didn't know if I should leave the lights off or turn my side lamp on as I sat up and said: "Come in."

She pushed the door open gently and whispered: "Are you awake?"

"Yes, I am awake. Come in." I realized that I couldn't leave the lights off under the circumstances. So, I reached over and flipped the lights on.

She was wearing a full gown—that was new. I couldn't help but read into it and be quite disappointed. She had deliberately covered herself so much that I couldn't see anything except her face. Why did she need to do that, I wondered. There was a strong message in that for me.

She took my computer chair and sat there for a while, looking at her feet, trying to find the words to start with. I just watched her quietly, dreading the thought that she was going to tell me that everything had to stop.

The silence was deafening.

Finally, after a very long time, she cleared her throat and said: "Are you upset with me?"

I was actually surprised at her question and wanted to answer quickly and say that I was not upset with her. But I decided to take a moment to think before answering her. I was confused as to why she would think that I was upset with her, when all along I was thinking that she would be upset with me. After all, it was my erection that pressed into her, indicating a clear sexual desire that I had for her. Yet, she was asking if I was upset with her, as if she was the one who did something to me.

Finally I said: "No, I am not upset with you." Then I added: "Why would I be upset with you?"

"Well, I thought maybe..." She left her sentence incomplete. I sensed her confusion. It seemed she had more on her mind and I wanted to know what it was.

"Maybe what?" I prodded.

She thought for a while then took a deep breath and almost blurted: "I thought maybe you were upset with me for what happened earlier?"

"Why would I be upset?" I was still confused. It was a mutual thing, as far as I knew.

"I thought maybe I went a little too far when we said goodnight."

I looked at her hard and deep. She was only thinking of her own behavior. She was only concerned about her doing something wrong. I guess she wasn't even thinking of my erection into her and that I had kissed her back as well. She was only thinking of her own kissing, as if this whole thing was one sided, as if she was the only one participating in our affair.

"What do you mean by going a little too far?" I decided to play dumb. There was a lot of relief in thinking that she was holding herself responsible and wasn't putting any onus on me. I felt in control of the situation because she was the one being so defensive while I didn't have to be, as I was doing in my own thoughts.

She seemed a bit confused. It was obvious what she was talking about, but I wanted to hear from her what exactly was it she was referring to.

She had to consider her answer for a while. She seemed to suddenly get very low. She sat there quietly, looking at her swaying feet, with her hands on her sides, holding the chair tight.

She looked at me after what seemed like a few hours and asked: "Is it really possible that you don't know what I am talking about?!"

I looked at her as she looked at me. Her eyes were very serious. I could sense even some fear. She was afraid that maybe she was blowing something out of proportion, while I was oblivious to what was going on. In other words, she was raising an issue that she really didn't need to raise. I could tell that she was having trouble controlling her breathings.

I didn't want to answer that question. But she had asked and I had to answer. "I do know what you are talking about." I decided to leave it just there without saying more.

She sat there quietly, just thinking. I could tell from the deep furrows on her forehead that she was thinking very hard. She was formulating something but was having trouble getting it out. She was trying to find the right words or something. Finally, she took a deep breath to stabilize her heart rate and then asked with a huge seriousness on her face: "What then am I talking about?"

I decided that she had given me the opportunity to bring it all in the open. It was finally time to discuss what was going on because she had very clearly asked as to what was going on between us.

It took a while for me to come up with an appropriate answer, and when it did come, I looked into her eyes and said: "It seems very clear to us that neither one of us wants to make the first move."

I observed her face go from one shade of color to another and then back again. Even though I had hinted very clearly about what it was that was going on, she wanted to hear it in direct and no uncertain words what I was talking about. Her response was obvious and somewhat predictable: "Make the first move to do what?"

I could have said something straight to the point, but the stigma attached to what was going on between us was so strong, that even at that moment, when everything was practically out in the open, we were failing to acknowledge it. Not only that neither one of us wanted to make the first move, neither one of us wanted to accept that there was something requiring the first move.

I couldn't believe the intensity in the room as she tried to control her breathing by breathing through her mouth. My heart was beating uncontrollably as well, as I tried to find the right words. My blood was rushing so fast that my thoughts were thrown all over. I knew the moment was right, I knew we were both aware of everything, I knew one of us had to break the taboo, but how to do it was the problem.

Instead of answering her question, I made an observation: "You know this was a lot easier when we weren't talking about it."

She smiled with relief. I realized at that moment that she had the most beautiful smile that I've ever seen on a woman. She relaxed her body a little as she replied: "Yes, I agree with you on that one."

I looked at her beautiful face and her chiseled lips. She looked quite alluring even though she was so covered up. One thing was for sure, the ice had been broken between us. There was an indirect acknowledgement of what was going on between us and we both knew that we were in an uncharted territory.

I was very aroused. I was so hard at that moment that it actually hurt. I wanted to hold her in my arms and feel her body against mine. I wanted to feel her breasts on my chest. I wanted to rub my hands on her back and on her ass. I wanted to kiss her full on the mouth and I wanted her to kiss me back with equal desire.

We sat there in silence, with me looking at her and with her looking at the floor. I wished so much to know what was going through her mind. She seemed very preoccupied with her thoughts and emotions, as was I. She had to breathe in deeply a few times just to calm herself down. I didn't know what to do next.

After what seemed like an eternity, she whispered softly: "Is it possible?"

Her whisper was so soft that I almost didn't hear her words. I said nothing. I didn't want to answer that question.

There was another pause while she waited for an answer from me. When I didn't reply her, she looked up at me and asked again, this time with more determination: "Is it possible for us?"

I was getting quite excited because my mind was thinking of all kind of things. She had practically said everything and made her feelings and her desires known quite clearly. It was unfair of me to continue with a restrained approach. I looked straight into her eyes and held my gaze. Then I said with as much desire as I could put into my words: "I am actually wishing with all of my being for it to be possible."

We both sat there again in silence as the enormity of her declaration and my confession sank in. We both were suddenly very serious. It was all in the open and there was a clear indication of what we wanted, but we sat there quietly, not knowing what to do next.

Silence was so thick that when she finally looked at me, I actually heard her neck movement. I could see this strange look on her face, a mixture of fear and desire, of hope and dread. She vocalized our dilemma: "Now what?"

Yes, I was wondering about the same thing: Now What? What were we supposed to do next? Ordinarily there was an obvious path to follow, but there was nothing ordinary between us. At first we both had wished for the impossible and now that the impossible was within reach, we couldn't believe that it was real. We didn't know how to act on our luck, because there was no protocol for us to follow.

Eventually I decided to move first. I took a deep breath, lifted the sheets off of me and moved with determination to the side of the bed that was closer to her chair. She waited in anticipation as I slid to the edge of my bed and extended my hands towards her. That was my answer to her "now what?" question.

She hesitated at first, trying to get enough nerve to accept my move. Slowly she brought her hands forward and placed them into mine.

That was our first real contact where I touched her with desire; desire for her and for her body. She accepted it and even reciprocated my desire with her own touch. Her hands felt very delicate and feminine. She had soft, petite hands and they fit perfectly easily in my rather large hands.

It would be an understatement to say that our touch was electrifying. It was a lot more than that and it was a lot more than a touch. We communicated thousands of thoughts through our fingertips. Our touching of hands seemed even more sensuous than the last time she had held and squeezed mine. I rubbed the tips of my fingers across her palms. She squirmed in her place.

I rubbed the back of her fingers with my thumbs, instinctively but rather unconsciously rubbing it on the rings on her fingers. She was breathing rather heavily and I could feel her trembling a little. Encouraged by her silent submission, I decided to get off of the bed and stand in front of her. I was still holding her hands, so they moved up with me, pulling her up slightly. She took the hint and stood up as well. We stood there in front of each other, holding hands, listening to each other's breathing.

She was the first to move forward. She came closer to me and raised her face towards mine. I lowered mine towards her as she moved little more forward to kiss me. I let go of her hands and took her into my arms as our mouths met with all the pent up passion ready to be expended.

We held each other as we kissed. Gently, firmly, passionately, and vigorously. We had rehearsed this moment so many times in the past that it went quite naturally when the real thing happened. We kissed hard and we kissed deep. Our lips sucked on each other's lips as our tongues mingled with each other. We even sucked on them, taking turns to gently stroke them in our mouths.

He lips were so soft, yet so passionate. Her kisses were so gentle, yet so incredible. Her tongue was so sweet, yet so arousing.