She Wonders Ch. 03

1

That fateful Sunday ended both with a bang and with a whimper. Though not so apocalyptically - the bang was not the preferable kind - the whimper in question was not the result of Jim's increasingly foul mood but of Sara's rampant imagination and vengeful sex drive.

As the night came to a close, and all their grown children had retreated back to their own corners come early evening, the gravity of the surreal situation truly came to light. She began to notice the moment she and Jim were left alone.

There was no hiding the fact that each to their own, wanted to be left alone. The atmosphere was not so tense, but for Sara there was every danger of betraying her paranoia.

Did he know something? Surely he couldn't. But she would not put a foot wrong and find out otherwise to her inevitable mortification. So Sara mirrored his disposition diligently and kept herself busy with unimportant little things.

And off to bed earlier yet again, Jim went up without saying a word. If he had said anything at all, he must have mumbled beneath his breath from afar. His retirement was only clearly announced by the slamming of the bedroom door.

Then she came awake with a jolt, only to be left resenting him all the more, and then resenting herself for feeling this way.

In all their years, as parents and alone as a couple, they had never slept with the bedroom door closed. Only their children as teenagers, Eric alone, and John and Sandra in the other large room they used to share, had ever slept with their doors shut; and specifically in secrecy.

That one detail spoke volumes of the impasse their relationship now came to. The door was closed. Without a word he had shut her out. Now she was in the doghouse, not Jim.

As she switched on the bedside light in Eric's old room and stripped out of her clothes that night, Sara felt a well of sadness but also of disappointment for the way things had come to be. But did they really need to be this way?

According to her husband, supposedly so, yes they did. Though many couples later in life opted for the freedom of a separate bed, she couldn't imagine that they shared the same reasons. Maybe after seventy the average married couple's sex life would completely give up the ghost, but still most slept in the same bed; 'til death do they part and all that!

Until she finally heard him snoring, come 10pm, the house was stiflingly quiet, to the extent that she began to deliberately make noise and to revel in it, for fear of otherwise treading on eggshells around Jim.

Prematurely the rebel within protested his patriarchal stiffness - not kind the stiffness the lady wanted - but with no audience that inner rebel withdrew and left her to her deepest thoughts.

What was it about creaking floorboards in a house endowed with such a tense atmosphere? With his snoring coming through the walls, loud as a pneumatic drill, why was she so intent on insuring that the sleeping bull stayed sleeping?

Since the previous night spent with her son, Eric, Sara had been left in a constant state of arousal, though that had been overridden for as long as there had been family to attend to. Now she was alone and desperate to do something about it.

Sadly Eric would be asleep by now, she supposed. A naughty thought, the desire to call or to text him and to talk about what happened, and then to tell him how she felt about it, and in deliberate words to suggest a future encounter, couldn't happen - not now - but it could and did fuel her imagination.

In fact it lit her body on fire, had her calling out to him in silent cries, desiring to be filled again by the overflow of the fountain of his youth. Rampant as her sex drive had been in Sara's younger years, she could go again and again and still ache for more.

But this was different. It had been so right and it had been so wrong at the same time, and the thrill of being fucked by another man came not with the kind of danger she associated with cheating.

Cheating itself was forbidden, a taboo she never gave thought to, because she was not that kind of woman...

Well, correction; she had never been that kind of woman!

But in her mind and soul, Eric had only fulfilled a son's duty to love and protect his mother, just on another level to most. And it had led to possibly the greatest sex of her life, bar the night she and Jim had knowingly and willingly, lovingly conceived their first child.

How things had changed...

Now naked in Eric's bed she buzzed herself to many a shaking orgasm. With a fully charged vibrator she toyed with the pussy still aching and tingling from the seeing-to he had given her, when they were alone in his apartment.

Within minutes her pussy was sloshing and gushing, squirting with the release of unimagined sexual release; just as she had the previous night.

She was so sensitive, so easily brought to climax, brought back to life by her son's sexual vitality, as though having fed off him - a shameless succubus. And such deep satisfaction he was now responsible for, Sara was dying to be wrapped around Eric again; and to be left dripping from between her legs with his intimate bodily fluids.

One-handed she ploughed herself, clenching her inner muscles around the hard artificial cylinder, suffocating its surprisingly loud electric hum to the point of a murmur as it sank deep within. If it was not for those deep vibrations her toy would not have done. It could not compete with the real thing.

And how she wished it felt anywhere near the same as him - harder and yet softer, the way that only muscle and flesh could be.

Fuck it! With the other hand she thumbed out her most daring, racy message to Eric, even as the phone trembled awkwardly in her weakening grip.

'Just a goodnight text to say that I'm very... very... turned on, thanks to you!'

Sara watched her message sending, unaware that she was vocally humming along with her vibrator then, and in a deep wavering throaty growl. Scooching down the bed a little more, she opened up her thighs wider and bucked her hips up to meet the dipping and corkscrewing motions of the toy in her hand.

She wanted nothing more than to have sex with Eric again. No, it was not a one-off just to relieve the tension. The memory of him being inside her, the glorious climaxes he deeply screwed her to, and the love shared - it had to happen again.

2

How much could a family change within the space of a day? That thought was quickly becoming Monday's theme as Sara settled into the first tea break. Unusually quiet, or so the other women in the office thought, it was clear that she had something on her chest.

Half-truths had their uses, though. And could anyone accuse you of keeping secrets when you were just minding your own business?

Tessa, blissfully unaware of there being a reality outside her own despite pushing sixty, loudly presumed that all matters found their way out into the open and therefore that bottling them up made no sense.

Well thank you, Tessa, who read tarot cards and angel cards for charity and believed that her dog could read English. Thank you for sharing that with the whole office. Your contribution is as extraordinary as ever.

One moment sitting there, contemplating the future quietly over the rim of her steaming mug, and then the next being scrutinised not so covertly by "The Mothers' Gossip Circle of Preston" as she liked to call the clique in her department, now the pressure was on.

'Talking about it will help,' Tessa assured, betraying her love of dirty laundry.

'That might work for you, Tess, but it just reminds me that there are more important things,' she replied casually. Tessa didn't understand. And when she didn't understand it would require spelling out, painfully slowly.

And Sara's response had earned her a few poorly disguised looks of judgement, specifically from the frumpy-looking clique leaders Paula and Mary.

'Ladies, please,' Sara backed out with a defensive smile.

'Everything okay, hun?' the former piped up as though she genuinely cared. It was Paula who mostly earned their group the "Mothers'" part of their collective nickname. She couldn't and wouldn't go a day without looking into other peoples' lives.

'Everything's fine!'

'Are you sure?'

'Fine,' Sara emphasized, but knew that they felt differently.

The same dialogue crept back into conversation after break time, and again at lunchtime, until Sara decided against her better judgement that a little bit of bait would keep them occupied enough to leave her alone.

'My family is going through a bit of a challenge right now,' she told them. 'People taking sides over nothing at all - it's just favouritism at its worst really. Jim spoiled John and Sandra over the years. Eric alone, and because he takes after his mother more than anything, learned to make sacrifices for the good of others. But he's missed out a lot of his youth as a result, which I find sad; the worst downside being that certain people believe he isn't worth what he hasn't appreciated.'

The mother's meeting was enthralled by Sara's outpouring, all bent a little nearer and literally reaching toward the bait.

'Well these things happen I suppose,' Tessa said, but Sara didn't even stop to listen. Tessa didn't know what it was like to have a family of her own, which although sad in ways might also have been a blessing. She barely knew how to look after her dogs over the years.

She was halfway through assuming that those things happened when Sara gathered her breath to continue; 'And all the while his father no longer appreciates me, and mirroring his increasingly grumpy behaviour, there's a line in the sand between me and Eric and the other kids, even though there isn't really a problem worth fighting over!'

'Well if you ever need to talk,' Mary concluded - how useful. Instantly Sara regretted having said anything. If anything at all she felt as though she had been used solely for the gossip, which is exactly what was happening.

That's why she called them "The Mothers' Gossip Circle of Preston". And that's exactly what they would be doing now, and about her family.

But how much could a family change so soon? The damage had been done long ago, now Sara realised in full as she had entertained the desire to spay the facts for all to see. But only yesterday had the line in the sand been acknowledged all-round, at the dining table.

Now her husband had retreated further within himself, and she was yet to see how they would communicate at all. She would know by teatime the extent of that. How hard would it be even to talk about the dinner?

Then she would know for sure whether she should dread the future of their marriage, their lives barely together or unmistakeably further apart.

But oddly Sara felt no guilt or remorse concerning the fact that she'd had sex with her own son. It not only seemed right. The only true love within that family existed solely between Sara and Eric, and they had made sex just another way of conveying that when it was most needed.

She was taking from Eric, and that much she couldn't deny. That much made her ponder whether she ought to have been ashamed. But still he had given, and with the desire to protect and to nurture in his own way.

Her husband was no longer interested, and ever since he'd made that known, it was he - not her - who withdrew, and pushed her further away so that she could make no mistake where his feelings were concerned.

No more sex, no more love!

Eric was the sole remnant of the love given to her, and delightfully she had received it physically. She couldn't wait for him to decide when to take it further. They would just have to be very careful, and not only about where and when they had sex, and how frequently without spiralling out of control.

'I've been talking my whole life,' Sara rebutted. Nobody had anything to say about that. Quietly they went back to chattering about Cherie's gay-as-a-rainbow nephew's X-Factor audition, sorry that they had asked.

And Sara could not have been happier. She'd rather have been elsewhere, away from these people and their bone-idle banter, but that was not possible, so therefore, no, she couldn't have been happier.

Sara waited for the day to be over, and waited long and hard!

3

No "hello", no "you again", no other backhanded greeting - that evening Eric's dad didn't even answer the door. He knew who was calling and what for. Eric didn't wait long before his mother answered the door, sarcastically calling back over her shoulder.

'Don't get up, I've got it...'

Eric's smile betrayed his paper-thin patience for his dad, but for his mother he was 100% genuine, and especially as he closed the door behind him to kiss her without an unwanted audience. Carefully Sara pulled away noticing the TV's volume suddenly getting lower in the background.

There was a new one - Jim eavesdropping!

And as Eric was not one to leave even ignorance unanswered, he strolled into the living room, looking to see what was what. It was already rare for his father to look him in the eye, let alone to say hello. Now with the volume muted, he could only pretend to pay attention to what the news reporter was saying; eyes fixed on the screen.

'Bit late turning the sound off now, dad,' Eric projected his voice so that it could have filled the room ten times over. 'Mum's already answered the door.'

No response!

'Cup of tea, love?' Sara asked in passing on her way to the kitchen.

Eric slowly came around, eyes still on his father's forced absence. 'Yeah, I'll stick around,' he said, turning his back to follow her.

'Oh god,' Jim muttered under his breath and reached for his cigarettes. Eric couldn't quite decide whether that grated on him, or pleased him in some perverse turnaround.

Eric then trailed off as he followed his mother into the kitchen; 'I came to grab a few err...'

When they were out of earshot, he caught up with her, took hold of her hips from behind, and pressed himself against Sara's bottom as she leaned over the kitchen sink, filling the kettle.

Sara blushed, laughed quietly, and looked admiringly over her shoulder at him. 'Behave, you,' she chided with zero will for conviction.

'Has he been like this with you?' he asked. Sara held her breath, exhaled evenly, and then nodded.

Eric would have liked to have asked what was wrong with him. What reason could he have had to behave like this? But both of them knew that, even though he couldn't have known their secret, not for sure, they were no angels.

'I'll say something if you want me to,' Eric whispered.

Sara turned to face him. He was so close that she managed to turn one hundred degrees before she bumped up against him and landed with one hand on his chest. She looked knowingly into his lucid eyes and flattened the palm of her hand against him.

'No,' she whispered back. 'Don't do that. Follow me upstairs a moment...'

In that moment Eric followed her out of the kitchen, asking; 'Do you still have those hockey Jerseys Aunt Jemma sent?'

The TV volume now rising higher than it had been when he arrived, Sara's eyebrows flicked upward, signalling the connotations of Eric's father now being wilfully harder of hearing.

'Ummm, let's take a look shall we?' she said with a conspiring smirk.

4

She led him as far as the threshold of his old bedroom door, then turned to face him and whispered; 'This will do!'

The look in his eyes told her that he knew what was happening now, and why she had led him here, safely away from prying ears and eyes. Far from what any old pervert might have expected, Sara just wanted to be held.

Only one day away from Eric and she felt like she had been starved of human contact, all because the other people in her life either wanted to dig through her trash for lies worth concocting, or else - in Jim's case - wanted nothing to do with her at all.

In his arms she reverted to a much younger age, ashamed only at her emotional neediness. It was never something she forced on her husband or children, NEVER, but in Eric she always knew that she could find some comfort, and understanding.

'You'd tell me if I started being weird, wouldn't you?!' she presumed quietly, wanting to laugh.

'Might be a bit late for that,' he dryly chuckled, though in truth he rejected such absurdity. Regardless Sara dug him lightly in the bicep with one loosely clenched fist, her cheeks flushing pink.

'Are you okay?' she asked, changing the subject. Furthermore; 'Are we okay?'

Eric leaned down to kiss his mother's lips with a firmness not reserved for sons. That was his answer. With a look that imposed the slightest power of authority he regarded his mother confidently. Maybe he had reservations, but if they were worth mentioning he would have. That much she knew.

'Hmm,' she sighed fleetingly. She tried to speak her words, but again her body was beginning to override her thoughts. Not knowing where to put her hands, she looked up at Eric and smiled unconvincingly before disintegrating into laughter; then covering her mouth.

He took her hand away from her mouth then held her cheeks in the palms of his hands to glance over her loving face. A tut escaped her lips before she pursed them together, her head lolling slightly to one side.

'I don't know how this works,' she said, flustered now, and again not knowing where to put her hands.

'Like it always has,' Eric offered confidently.

Sara cocked her eyebrows, surprised by his answer, but instantly feeling the need to put him properly on track, asking; 'And the other night?'

Eric leaned close to one ear and whispered his response with equal cockiness. 'How about a reminder sometime?' he asked, which soon had the both of them giggling quietly into each other.

'Yes,' she said. Actually surprised by her willingness, despite the most dangerous crime they had committed - not only upon their family but all of humanity - Eric pulled away, his mouth agape, and with growing hunger in his eyes; and all the while amused by yet another suggestive flick of her eyebrows.

'Yes, you still have those jerseys in the back of your wardrobe,' Sara said a little louder. 'And yes, darling, I will drive you and your jerseys back to your place.'

The message hit home instantly. Eric's mind spun. Essentially his mother was telling him in so many words, and in the way she looked at him, that she wanted to drive them to his place so that they could fuck.

Walking out to the landing and leaning over the balustrade, Sara projected her voice down the stairs, loud enough for her husband to hear. 'Jim, I'm just dropping Eric off with a few of his things...'

5

And one slip was all it took this time, for Eric to slide halfway into his mother's aching, sopping love canal. She received his rampant hardness with a guttural albeit eternally grateful moan from her quivering lips.

As he held himself fast so that she could accustom herself to him all over again, they both basked in how good it felt to be naked together again. Eyes locked they were smiling as they kissed, and with unabashed love and tenderness.

Eric now bottomed out, and with a deliberately slow seductive stroke, his mother hugging him gently inside and out as she welcomed the sensual bliss of their shared physical love.

'Oh Jesus, it feels like it's been days already,' Sara hopelessly gushed, staring disbelieving at the ceiling. A long, syrupy-sweet sigh oozed from her throat and soon met with his lips, and as Eric gently slid home again and again, so did their lips greet in a mutually growing emotional need.

'It has been,' he reminded her.

'Oh god it has hasn't it?' she realised. And it had been two of the second longest days of her life, after her lengthy labour and the birthing of her second child. Sandra, it seemed, did not want to come back then.