The First Leaf's Fall

My action of course, causing her to gasp softly as the backs of fingers whence retreating, dragged over her stiffening nipple. That sound caused me to stop, to hold my touch there where I could feel the hotness of her skin against mine.

Falling. That's what it felt like then. Falling into the deepest pit imaginable as I leaned forward, wrapping my lips around her nipple. A remembered action from infant days as teeth sank light around her sweet skin. I began to suckle, as though expecting milk to be coaxed from her breast to fill my mouth and belly with.

I completely forgot about the painting then, as I dragged myself up onto the rock and took my position from earlier. Between her legs, spreading to invite her baby back where I belonged.

There was no interesting foreplay. I did not drop myself between her thighs and slide my tongue into her. I did not feel her fingers wrapping around my shaft to gently stroke me into orgasm. I simply ground my hips against her own, feeling the tip finding its purchase at her entrance after agonizing seconds.

Hesitating, I savored this moment. A lasting thing in my mind before the great plunge. All of my being sinking into this woman beneath me as she invited me into her with the deep exhale of joyous ecstasy.

We spoke no words as my lips finally pulled away from her aching teat. Only the animalistic grunts and moans as I pumped my shaft in and out of her body. As she wrapped her legs around my waist and clamped tight to my own body. Both of us gasping, crying out in our gender specific ways as we felt the deluge of pleasure pouring over us.

Then all at once, thrust into that moment where time and space melt away. Your entire consciousness centering around the joining of two bodies, and the tingling electricity that courses outwards from that point.

I felt her quivering around me. Her inner walls rhythmically squeezing and milking my masculinity. Undoubtedly, she felt the liquid heat of my seed splashing against her insides, begging to be sucked deep into her womb where it could remain forever.

A final whimper from us both, before we collapsed into a heaving mass of flesh, gasping for air to fill burning lungs. Our post-coital fog lingering long afterwards as we felt the warmth of the day slowly beginning to recede into the evening hours.

Finally we felt our minds return. But where we returned was someplace different in our relationship. No longer simply mother and son, but a mother and son as lovers. A pairing of people with feelings and needs and wants that could no longer be held back, nor could they be shared with anyone else.

Quietly we disentangled from one another, collecting our clothing as I also finished cleaning up my painting. It was unfinished, my painting of my mother. But that could be finished another day.

Watching her retreat to our house, I stopped for a moment and looked at the rock. There laying bright and taunting was the leaf. I realized then, that we had both been caught up in the changing seasons. That forces very primal and very natural, drew us together.

Picking up the leaf, I carried it carefully with me back to my house. All the while thinking about how my mother and I had witnessed the first fallen leaf of autumn.