Tooth and Nail

I responded with the second half of the 'conversation' we'd been having for years and said, "Hey," in the same monotone we always exchanged. About fifteen minutes later, mom came down, freshly made up, but looking shaky.

"Stevie, what are you doing home? You weren't supposed to be back until tomorrow; are you all right?"

"I'm fine mom," I said, "We were rained out."

"Oh" she said, "Okay. Do you want me to make you something to eat?"

"No thanks," I said. That would be the end of the pleasantries between us for a while, because the next thing we did was sit at the piano where she wanted to teach me a ragtime duet, and right in the middle of "The Maple Leaf Rag" I stopped and said, "I saw you mom."

Now at that point I had no reason for going there. I mean, what did I expect to get from confronting her? Did I think she was going to say, "Oh, okay, you saw me doing it with Brendan, so now I'll do it with you?" My brain was pretty much oatmeal, so when she said, with startled eyes, "Saw what?" I plunged ahead.

"I saw you in bed with Brendan, I saw you..." She covered her mouth with both hands and the muffled words, "Ohhh noooo" combined with her breath through her fingers, made an eerie sound. Her eyes were really wide now and didn't say anything. I didn't know if she was waiting for me to speak or trying to read my reaction because her eyes were flitting all over my face.

Since I hadn't sorted out my feelings or thoughts, I didn't say anything either. I mean, what could I say, how could you do that terrible thing with my brother when I really mean, please do that terrible thing with me? Could I be angry, ashamed, hurt? Well, I guess I was, and wasn't, all of those things.

Finally she said, "My God, what you must think...don't hate me Stevie, it happened...but it's never going to happen again. I told him...Brendan's going to be living at school from now on...it's over...it was wrong and I'm so sorry you saw that Stevie...please forgive me." Her eyes filled with tears about to fall and I still didn't say anything. Who was I to forgive her, especially for something I had been dreaming of doing with her myself.

What I said was, "How long has this..."

"Stevie," she said, as the weight of her tears brought them down her face, "Please don't make me...it just started and now it's over...I just can't talk now...it's over, I promise...don't ask me any more now, please honey." I could feel the heat and discomfort coming from her because we were still almost touching as we sat on the piano bench.

I wanted to know all I could; the idiot voice in my head was probably saying, 'Maybe you'll find out how to do it too,' so I said, "Okay mom, but we have to talk about this at some time."

"I know Steven, just not right now." She put her hand on my arm after saying that. She got up and climbed the stairs up to her room, where she remained until the next morning.

Things were quiet in the house for the next few days and got even quieter when Brendan moved out. I was about to start a training course for Meriwether Electronics that would take me away from home for two weeks. And the night before I left, I said, "Mom, tell me what happened between you and Brendan."

She said, "I know I said, we'd talk about it but...it's too upsetting...what difference does it make now, it's all done Stevie...I was lonely...he...he..." At that point she cried and I held her. She was lost in her tears and probably didn't even realize I was kissing her face every once in a while to console her. It really wasn't sex at that point, I don't think, I just felt bad for her. She kissed me back a few times and I was holding her for the longest time.

I said, "I love you mom."

She answered without looking up, "I love you too Stevie." Then somehow, while she was moving away from me her hand brushed across my thigh, and across the thick, hard, erection I had developed.

She jumped back as if she was jabbed with an electric prod. She practically yelled, "Stevie...what...what are you doing?"

I had no idea what to say and I just said, "I love you mom," with a shrug. I went close to her again and held her arms and said again, "I love you," this time I kissed her. I couldn't tell if she was letting me kiss her, kissing me back, or just in shock.

She pulled back and said, "Oh God, is this real? Am I crazy?" She shook her head back and forth as if trying to convince herself. After a moment, she gathered herself and said, "Listen to me Steven, what happened with your brother was the worst mistake of my life, and I promised myself I would never be so foolish again; it just about wrecked me. You know, it's probably because you saw your brother and me; I'm sure it set off a lot of mixed feelings in you, but I don't think that this is what you really want and it isn't what I need now."

"You're wrong mom," I said, "It is what I really want and it has nothing to do with Brendan. Mom, I've thought about you like this for a long time. No matter what I did to stop myself, it was always you. I've always wanted you and I always will. Do you mean to tell me you never knew what I felt for you was more than mother-son stuff? How could you not know...how could you not know I wanted you all this time?"

"Oh God Stevie, maybe I did, at some level. But you know, sometimes, no matter how much you may know something; you just push it out of your mind. I saw you looking at me baby, I even saw you...you know, hard, a few times. But I always said to myself that you were either thinking of someone else, or just because I'm a woman, and I'm around, maybe you couldn't help it and got excited."

"You're right about one thing mom, I do get excited when you were around, but that's only a part of it. I wanted you mom...I wanted to love you; I wanted to make love to you the way I did in all the fantasies that saw me through the nights, the way I want you now. I dreamed that maybe one day I'd be able to show you how hard you make me, and that you wouldn't be ashamed of me. I dreamed that one day you'd love me and..."

"Oh sweetheart, you're torturing me. You know I love you and I would never be ashamed of you, but this is just too much to take in. Stevie, a mother isn't supposed to have sex with her son...oh God...I..."

"Mom, do you feel anything like what I'm talking about?"

"Stevie, you're a handsome young man, and I guess I can't help feeling a physical attraction, but..."

"Mom, you said a mother isn't supposed to have sex with her son, and maybe you're right because I never thought of it as just having sex. I always thought of it as loving you...and, don't get mad, but I have to tell you...I'm always thinking of you making love to me...with your mouth, and making love to me with your pussy..." I couldn't tell if the expression on her face was surprise, terror, or excitement. I stopped talking.

She looked down, quietly resigned. In a moment of excitation and with the silence from her, which I took for assent, I did what I had wanted to do for a long time. I took her breast in my hand. Every inch of me was pounding as her fullness filled my palm. It felt bigger than it looked. I gently massaged it as I thought about reaching in under her bra. The whole experience lasted about two seconds before she removed my hand. "Steven, you can't do that to me. It's not right, and no matter what happened between your brother and me, nothing is going to make it right...I just can't."

I could see that nothing I could say at the moment was going to change her mind so I resigned myself and said, "Okay mom."

With a look that showed the relief she felt, she said, "Thank you baby; thanks for understanding." She gave me a hug, which was of course the worst thing she could have done because I had to feel her tits pressing into my chest.

It was a long two weeks away and even though the training program went well, all my free time was consumed with my feelings for my mother. We spoke every night about everything, except what I wanted to talk about.

When I got back home nothing happened for a long while and I was pretty much resigned to never having my mom when I overheard a phone conversation she was having with one of her friends. She used the name Mike, but it didn't take me long to figure out who she was really talking about. She said, "Marina, you can't imagine what this is doing to me. I have to see him at work every day and I want him so badly. He's half my age and...well there are other complications...you know him being from work, and my having gone out with his brother...damn, it's just so complicated."

I couldn't hear the other end of the conversation, but it sounded like Marina was encouraging her and mom said, "No, I'm not going to give in to it this time, I'm going to fight it tooth and nail...I'm just not going to let sex screw up my life any more...no matter how much I want to."

After hearing that and combining it with the fact that no matter who I went out with, or who I fucked, it was still my mother that was driving my desires, I decided to try again to get something going between us.

Since I knew how she felt, I was more comfortable kissing her more, hugging her longer, touching her in ways that were short of sexual, but past platonic. When I didn't push past her comfort level, she responded, and we kissed. When I held it a little too long she said, "We shouldn't."

And when I said, "Can't I even kiss my mother to tell her I love her," she relented and kissed me back. On that Saturday night when I first touched her below the waist, I don't like to think I got her drunk to do it, but I did keep re-filling her wine glass. When she went in to bed, I knocked on her door to ask her about getting up early and going to the ball game the next day. When I went in, she was on the bed fully clothed and I asked, "Are you okay?"

She said, "Sure honey, I guess I had too much to drink and I'm just resting." I said, "Can I talk to you or should we leave it for tomorrow?"

She patted the bed and said, "No it's okay, come sit."

Instead of sitting, I laid down beside her and rested my hand over hers, and after asking about the ball game, and setting up the time to leave in the morning, I said, "Mom, is it terrible that I love you the way I do?"

She took her time to answer and then said, "Honey I know it's hard for you, and it's hard for me too; I know what most people think and even though I'm older than you, I'm probably just as confused when it comes to...maybe we should just let it be and not even talk about it because..." I rolled toward her and kissed her gently. It was almost a whimper when she said, "Oh God," and kissed me back.

I didn't push it, as hard as I was, and as hard as it was to do, I just kept kissing her slowly, on her lips, on her eyes, on her neck. After a long time, I put my hand on her breast and she said, "Honey, I can't sleep with you...I won't..."

I said, "I know mom, it's okay, I just want to kiss you for a little while, and then I'll go. If you don't want me to..." I didn't finish the sentence, I just returned to her lips and mouth. I unbuttoned her shirt and felt her over her bra. She let me slip the loose cotton pants off her. I stripped to my briefs and held her close.

She said, "No more." And I didn't know if she was talking about clothing, or touching, or kissing, but I again went to her lips, and she responded. I asked her if I could see her without her underwear, she shook her head, 'No,' but she didn't stop me when I took off my briefs. So we lay side by side with her in bra and panties and my erection starting to reach the ceiling. I put my hand on her belly and when she didn't stop me, I slid down over the sheer nylon that barely hid anything, and I had my first feel of my mother's pussy. She put her hand on my cock, and whatever number is the highest on the hardness scale, I reached it.

She wrapped her fingers around the shaft and just held it, hardly squeezing or moving. When she barely whispered, "God, why do you have to be so hard for me?" I wasn't sure if there was any satisfaction in her voice, or just dismay at the situation between us. I did know she wasn't really asking me a question, so I shut up and just enjoyed feeling the pressure of her hand on my shaft.

I could feel the heat and moisture under my palm and wanted to rub her, but when I started to, she put her hand over mine to keep me from moving. I guessed that she wanted me to go slow, but I didn't want to break the spell by asking her anything at that point.

After some excruciatingly long minutes of feeling great and wanting more at the same time, my mother gently moved on my shaft. I started the same slow pace as I rubbed her pussy and she didn't stop me. At one point she guided my fingers up to her button and directed my vertical stroke into a circular one. The effect on her was immediate. She started moaning and moving on the bed, at the same time squeezing and stroking my cock more firmly. In a matter of minutes her moans became little cries that kept time with the up and down movement of her hand along the length of my cock.

I knew I was about to come and I wanted to warn her, but I just got out, "Mom...oh mom..." as my eruption let fly with a strong initial stream that shot into the air.

She cried out and said, "Oh God, baby...baby..." and as some of my cum lubricated her hand, she stroked faster and each release felt so good it sent a jolt of electricity through me.

My coming caused me to press harder, and I could feel her arch up into my hand as she said, "Ohhh...I'm coming...ohhh..." My mother came, whimpering, and breathing hard. When she finished, she turned her face into my chest and covered it with her hand.

I said, "Mom?" but she didn't answer. After a few minutes, she got up without looking at me and went into the bathroom. I could tell she wanted to be alone, so I left the room.

After a couple of hours I knocked on her door. She quietly said, "Come in."

She was sitting in a chair wearing the satin ecru robe I had given her birthdays a few years before. I could tell she had nothing on underneath it and that she had been sitting there for all that time just staring out.

"Mom," I said, "I don't want to make you unhappy...I just want to show you how much I love you."

"Honey I know that, and I love you so much I could...oh baby, this is too much for me. I can't be physical with you like this. God help me, I want to..." She was quiet for a moment and then said, "I shouldn't be saying things like this to you, but I want you know, I'm not rejecting you because...oh Steven, I want to do all the things you want to do...I want to love you with all of me, I want...I know you can't understand it now because you want me, and you can see what I feel too, but one day you'll see that I'm doing this for both of us. If we make love, it's going to mess us both up for a long time, and for what, it can't last, it'll feel good for a little while and you'll get tired of me, and you'll need a real relationship with someone your own age...someone you can share a life with...have children with..."

I started to protest but she stopped me, "No, I know what you're going to say and none of this is going to make any sense in the long run."

"Okay mom," I said, "Then I'll just say that I love you now and I'll love you always, and I'm always going to want you the same way." She started to tear up and I kissed her wet eyes and gave her a loving kiss on her lips that she tremblingly returned. I couldn't leave without knowing if that was the last real kiss she was ever going to give me, so I kissed her deeply with more love in it than sex, whatever that may mean, but it made sense at the time, and she kissed me back.

Then she said, "You have to go now love, you have to."

I kissed her cheek and said, "Good night, darling."

She smiled at the word I'd never used before, and said, "Good night."

I started my job and it took a lot of my time, but there was always some point in the day where I thought about mom, and I guess I was on her mind too because she called me on my cell whenever she knew I had a break. We did what we had done on her bed every once in a while. I guess she had a limit in mind because it never happened more than once every few weeks.

We did more music all the time and I learned to understand the places pure music could get you to. There was an emotional and sometimes even sexual reaction when there was no reference to anything outside the sounds and pitches and timbres. I could be in the place that most resembled the moment of union with the one I now loved.

While never at the piano, but there was still some physicality between us. What she did let me do was kiss and touch her over her clothes. After I learned that nothing was coming off, she didn't stop me when I came up behind her as she applied make-up, or did the dishes. I ran my hands down the curves of her body and never lingered, knowing she would get uncomfortable. When she stood in front of a mirror, I could see the sadness behind her closed eyes until I kissed her neck, which became our signal that it was over. She usually gave a long sigh afterward which I chose to interpret as a kind of climax or release, rather than relief.

We talked about everything, everything but sex of course. What was going on between us was never mentioned. So everything I did was trial and error, but I guess we operate a lot of our life that way anyway. She was wearing a white jacket with black piping the day she let me expose her from the waist up.

She told me it was okay, but not with words. As we kissed, her moans were a little more vocal, her movements were a little more insistent. She looked down as I unbuttoned the white jacket. She wore a black bra that the tops of her tits were spilling out of. I pulled the soft bra down exposing the wonderful flesh.

Looking at her bare breasts close up, I said, a little too loudly, "Wow." Still not meeting my eyes, she got the smallest grin on her face that betrayed some pleasure, and then I said, "Mom, you've got beautiful nipples." And they were terrific; large pinkish circles with solid nubs in the center. There was only one thing anyone would want to do at that point. I leaned over taking one of her tits in my hand and brought the nipple between my lips.

The fullness in my hand was unexpected as I licked and sucked my mother's nipple, and I drew on it until it swelled in my mouth. Through a moan she said, "Kiss me honey, kiss me." I did, for a long time, never releasing the velvety flesh I finally held. That part of the trial went well. The error part of the incident was trying to get her to take off her skirt. That pretty much ended whatever was going on.

The next time we were in bed together, after we had both come, she didn't get up the way she usually did. I took the opportunity to kiss her and stroke her. When she saw me getting hard again she uttered the first remark about what was going on between us; it sounded as if she was talking to herself rather than to me. Her face wore an almost bewildered look. "It's amazing," she said, "It doesn't matter to you that I'm your mother...you get so hard...so fast..."

I said, "You're wrong mom, it does matter. That's what makes it so good. And I love it that it's you...your breasts, your pussy, that makes me so hard. Just doing this with you is better than making any kind of love with anyone I've ever been with, do you know that mom?"

She looked at me, shook her head and said, "Stevie, Stevie...what am I going to do?" I thought of lots of things, but I didn't say any of them. She started to get up and I took her arm and urged her back towards me. She gave in, and I had her in my arms. She kissed me with a release of emotions that told me what I been waiting to hear.

With her bra and panties off she laid back and opened her legs. Looking at her moved me, because I knew that what I was witnessing was a rare experience - the sight of a desired mother, opened for her son. How could I not want to do everything to her, and with her? I drank in the sight of all that creamy skin and the sweet pussy between her legs.