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Blonde

It’s bright today in a vaguely annoying way that makes me feel a little impatient. Even through the lenses of my dark oversized sunglasses, something about the totally normal way the sunlight is glimmering through the trees on St. Charles gives me a sense of unreality. In this beautiful place, in this beautiful time, in this beautiful day there are no shadows for anything to lurk in. Yet I know they are there.

I’m on my way to see my son, Dean, for the first time in over a year. I had been out of town at a convention when he had moved into his new apartment. Our first weekend together is already proving to be a potentially memorable one. We are under hurricane watch. Again. Thankfully, it looks like we may simply be brushed by a tropical storm this time. That is if the storm doesn’t decide to twirl back into the gulf or to the right of us as they are wont to do. Dean had invited me to spend the weekend holed up in his new digs to reacquaint ourselves. I’d accepted albeit somewhat reluctantly.

Earlier today I boarded the glass parts of my tiny Magazine St. apartment before heading down Tchoupitoulous to the Walmart. I am hoping to score the long list of supplies I have determined Dean and I may need.

The thing about the molasses pace of New Orleans is its slowly metered tempo doesn’t tend to tick up even when it probably should. Sure, last minute would be busy because everyone drags their feet. The city would still move more slow and southern over frantic and panicked. The best of us gave up control of our fate to the universe, the rest of us simply faked it until we made it.

As I wait to turn off St Charles down Fray St, I realize how glad I am that my son lives.in town now. Our connection has been sporadic over the years. This is the first time since before college we are living in the same city.

It took a good ten minutes to navigate the three long blocks down to my son’s apartment. The street is not one way, but with cars parked on both sides it might well have been. This is complicated by traffic from Allison’s lunch. Navigating side streets in Nola is often like high stakes Tetris. Luckily, fate smiles upon me. I pull into a decent sized space in front of the house number my son had provided.

Despite the snarl, I am early. I take the opportunity to drag the multiple bags supplies across the broad cracked sidewalk onto Dean’s screened porch. Stepping onto the porch is like stepping into another realm.. All along the porch vine and plants pour down in thick blankets, darkening the bright sun and turning down the sound from St. Charles.

I take a moment to try to tame my tangle of red curls also straightening the pink handkerchief skirt on my hips. The humidity is making my black top cling to my breasts, but there isn’t much I can do about that. Much of my carefully applied make up has probably long run off my face. I should know better by now then to try.Sighing, I knock on his door.

Dean appears almost immediately, stepping his way quickly onto the porch letting the screen door bang behind him. The bags on the floor of the porch catch his attention. He lets out a low whistle.

“Mom, I told you I would get supplies. You didn’t need to drag all of this here yourself.”

Time slows to a halt as I study my son. In some ways he looks the same. He’s only a few inches taller than I. He’s still broad shouldered and fairly narrow hipped. His face expresses a strong brow line, roman nose and broad thin lipped mouth dominated by his soft brown eyes. I spy the familiar edges of his tattoos poking out from under the rolled up sleeves of a black button down he has over his khaki shorts. The only small changes include his dark now silver speckled hair being chopped short and the small lines around his eyes deepening. These things only enhance his appearance. Clearly my son’s appearance is only going to get better with age.

Dean brings time back into focus as he pulls out a list from his pocket. I laugh handing him the one in mine. He grins at me in a way that causes my breath to catch in my chest. Momentarily, I’m unsure if my chest will allow air back in. I force myself to smile back my normal beaming Mom smile. Our eyes spark like two flintstones for a second. I want to stare. I am so glad to see him. Brightness spreading through my limbs, I glance at this list.

“Someone raised you right. “

He gives a throaty laugh while reaching for me. “C’mere, Mom. “

He embraces me, fitting me tightly against his body. He smells like a delicious mix of chocolate, coffee and a hint of earthy spiciness.. I find myself dissipating into the hug. I allow myself a moment beyond propriety to remain buried in my son’s arms. I know I’m being embarrassing. I tell myself that the physical yearn of my body towards him is merely over enthusiasm from missing him all this past year.

This tracks until I pull back. He doesn’t let me go completely. He keeps me at arm’s length looking down at me. His eyes peer into mine, seeming to be searching. He brushes a stray curl out of my eyes causing shivers to race down the nerves of bursa escort my back. For a moment, I think my son is going to kiss me. Instead, he gently releases me with a small smile. He then starts gathering bags and hefting them into the hardwood floor just inside his door.

Busying myself with also gathering bags, I wonder if I would have let him kiss me. There is a history of this tension for us though normally not this strong. Allowing myself to let my son kiss my mouth is something I had indulged in before.

Dean’s father had left us when Dean was a senior in high school. Although far from a child, it had affected my son greatly. There was a period of unhappiness perhaps bordering on depression for both of us. It was a lot of time just him and I alone. I got to know my son as a young man. I soon realized how wonderful a person he was turning out to be-what a wonderful partner he would be for someone. He was my son so of course I thought the world of him

I had clocked the tension between us was changing. Yet, I was too weak to stop it. When Dean started showing up at my bedroom door asking to sleep in bed with me, I had allowed it gladly. I’d like to say that I’d wanted him to stand in for my husband. The truth is I had allowed an unhealthy attraction to form between us independent of our relationships to other people. It started with us cuddling in bed at night.

One night during the cuddling, Dean confided some pretty melancholy feelings he was having about life in general. Hearing his distress made me feel like I was failing him in some way. As he pressed himself to me for motherly comfort, I could feel he was also very aroused. I didn’t even stop to think about what I was doing or if he wanted me to do it. Instead, I started stroking him. He buried his head in my breasts. Feeling him trying to stifle his moans of pleasure against me, caused the inappropriate arousal between my legs to go into overdrive. I found myself struggling not to rub my body against his as my motions became more frantic on his cock. I was clearly not doing this for just him. When I felt him shudder and his cum spill through my fingers my entire pelvis spasmed.

Unaware that his mother had already arrived once, Dean reached into my sleep pants. When he felt how wet I was, he looked up at my face, eyes wide in surprise. I had put my hand over his and helped him stimulate my still sensitive pussy. The second time I came, I was looking into his eyes. I lost control over my body crying out loudly for him. When our breathing had calmed down, he removed his hand from me. He reburied his head in my chest. We drifted off together, both feeling markedly better.

From then on, we’d have what Dean termed our “feel good” talks. They happened at least once a day -sometimes several if it was a weekend. It felt like he was hard constantly, and having him excited caused my body to respond strongly. I told myself that mutually masturbating my son was just an extension of what we would do alone. It was just another way for us to feel close. We deserved that.

Of course, this is never going to be enough. One Saturday, Dean entered the living room asking if we could have another “feel good” talk together. We had already had one this morning in bed when we woke. I was not one to resist my son though. He sat down, dropping his jeans to his ankles. For some reason, the sight of my son’s hard cock in the daylight, just out in the living room, caused me to lose good sense..

I bent my head over without reservation, taking him enthusiastically in my mouth. First I could hear Dean’s surprise exclamation. This was followed by his groaning as I brought him to climax with my mouth. When he cried out, “Mom.” I felt myself cum a little too.

He had gratefully lifted my face for a kiss. I should not have let him, but I did. After a pretty heavy kissing session, he was hard again. However, he seemed more concerned about me. Pushing me against the couch, he tried to place his mouth on my inner thighs. I wanted it. I wanted him, but I could not cross that arbitrary line. We had instead brought each other off with our hands at the same time.

That same night, for the third time that day, I felt myself getting aroused by my son. When he came into the bedroom naked for bedtime, I could feel how wet I got instantly.. His body was wildly appealing to me. He wasn’t too slender and he wasn’t too big. He was the perfect amount of solid to fit myself against. I loved running my hands over his body at will during the day. This probably contributed to the amount of the times he wanted to feel good with me.

That night he hadn’t taken no for an answer in pleasing me orally. I had let him push me back onto the bed pulling my panties off as he spread my legs. I started to protest. He silenced my protest by starting to gently lick and nibble at me before plunging into play with fingers and tongue. I don’t know where he learned what he did, but it didn’t matter. He had me arching my back and begging him to let Mom come in no time.

After that, we could not get enough of each bursa escort bayan other. We had moved the line back to piv penetration. It was a struggle every day to not cross it. Denying ourselves only increased our sexual tension to a peak.

I knew it would have to stop. I was forced to acknowledge this the night my son had put his cock repeatedly up to my entrance. Feeling him almost inside me tested every moral fiber and patience I had. He didn’t force himself on me. He did spend a lot of time trying to talk me into how good it would feel for us both. Unable to keep stimulating himself as such, my son had ejaculated all over my mound.

If he had not cum at that moment, I would have crumbled. The next day, we had a long discussion as to why it was not healthy for us to continue. I started locking my door at night and spending as much possible time away from home.

Dean did not take me ending things well. I hated myself every day for hurting my son when I only loved him. He spent the last few months before college trying to convince me that I was wrong about ending our physical relationship. He also tried more persuasive methods of walking around naked and openly masturbating in front of me. I allowed him to continue the antics assuming he would get over what was between us. I was fairly certain a piece of me never would.

I knew I had done the right thing when halfway through his first semester at college he started dating someone. He started calling the house again. By the end of his first year, he came home for the summer. He told me that he understood why I had ended things. He seemed happy and moving along with life. I was also finding other joy moving on somewhat with my personal life. It had been years since any of those emotions had really come bubbling back up. I wondered if it had to do with the fact that we were in a vulnerable situation together alone again. I hoped rather than believed it wouldn’t become a problem for us.

“Mom, why did you bring all these pillows, blankets and sheets?” Dean’s voice has an amused tone to it.

“Because I’ve been to your apartments before sir. I don’t intend on trusting my comfort with someone who refuses to adhere to minimum thread count like a savage. To say nothing of your lack of fluffy pillows or soft blankets. “

Dean considers this laughing. ” Right, well we can put all this on the mattress in the middle room.”

I freeze looking at him. He catches the look, but pretends that he doesn’t understand..

“The middle room doesn’t have windows. I figured we could drag my mattress and box spring to be safe there. “

I am torn. I don’t want to bring up a long buried subject unnecessarily. Yet there had been that moment on the porch. I look towards the room Dean has been gesturing too just past the living room., I can see he has already cleared a space in the middle of the room along with having set up candles, lanterns and other assorted essential objects. Probably, I am overreacting. I smile brightly and ask him to point me to the kitchen.

He led me past the living room, past the middle room and off the hall to the kitchen beyond. It takes about half an hour to find places for all the non-perishables along with all the things Dean already purchased. Our banter falls back into the normal mother son spectrum for the most part. Whatever weirdness I had felt, must be on my part.

Once we finish setting up the kitchen area, we go get the mattress and box spring. Following him down the dark hall past the bathroom to the two back bedrooms, I fight against the feeling of Deja vu. It feels too much like when he would lead me to bed at night all those years ago. When he opens the door to this room, I halfway expect him to push me on the bed and start kissing me. Dean. however, is frustratingly calm.

I look around. His bedroom is full of heavy dark masculine furniture and neutral toned linens. He has some clearly local art gracing the walls. The whole room is heavy with the same pleasant scent of my son. Breathing in is like breathing him in. It is a little overwhelming.

Dean strips his mattress. I turn to help him push it off the bed and into the hall. Trying to ignore the times our hands and bodies bump on the journey out to the hall, I help my son wrangle the mattress across the hardwood floor into our safe place.

We drop the mattress in the middle of the floor. We then trek back to retrieve the box spring before re-stacking them together in the center of the floor. It looks like our setup will be comfortable.

Taking a moment to relax, Dean comes up behind me placing his arm around me while resting his head on top of mine. I want this moment to be innocent with my son. I have no idea why my heart pounds so quickly and loudly I am afraid he will hear.

My body had other ideas particularly when I realized he is gently stroking my hip. We stand frozen together. All the blood rushes between my legs. I can feel my parts swelling and becoming sensitive as I start dripping with arousal. My body is familiar with this touch. It craves it escort bursa even after all these years. Gently, I disengage myself from my son. This way lies madness.

When I look up at my son, whose face is fairly close to mine, something close to disappointment flits across his beautiful face. I look away. By the time I look back, my son has his fairly neutral face back in place.

“Why don’t you go ahead and make up the bed. I’ll try out our lanterns and some of the candles.” Dean turns busying himself in setting up lights.

I make the bed with the fresh clean sheets while arranging as many comfortable pillows and blankets around. Surveying my work, I am pleased. I hear a loud click. The overhead light goes out, but the fan stays gently shepherding the air through the room. All around me there are candles and lanterns lit at intervals. Looking at Dean, he also looks pleased with his progress. The room is not overly lit but enough to provide a calming atmosphere which we would certainly need tomorrow.

Dean walks over looking at the bed.

“How will this be comfortable with all this stuff? You know there are two of us that have to sleep here right?”

I smack his arm playfully, ” Mock me now mister. Thank me for being comfortable later. “

Dean doesn’t hesitate to throw himself back onto the mattress and box spring disrupting a few pillows on his journey. He stretches out the full length of his body putting his hands behind his head. Laughing, I pick up the pillows climbing into bed next to him tossing the pillows at him. He chucks them back on the floor with no remorse, smiling.

“Ok, Some, some of the pillows are needed. This is cozy.”

“Ha, Your mother knows some things at this advanced age. ” I stretch out on my back next to him. I find that I immediately start relaxing. It has been a long, stressful day. Now I am reclined in a comfy bed, beneath the soft sway of the fan, under the warm lights scattered around the room. I feel Dean reach for my hand.

“I’m glad you are here Mom. “

“Me too.” I say somewhat drowsily. I squeeze back at his hand. Next I know, I find myself drifting away into a pleasant dream-like state.

When I awake, the room looks much the same, but I could tell from the lack of light from the other room that the day has passed into night. The second thing I noticed is I am lying on my side and my son was curled up behind me with his arms around me. This would not be so shocking if my skirt weren’t pushed up to my waist. I can feel Dean stroking my ass and upper thigh. I can feel his erection pushing up against the thin material of my underwear.

It feels right, but we can’t go here again. I allow myself one deep sigh, for one brief contented moment. I try prying his arms from around me. His arms are marble.

“No Dean.. No.” I say trying to keep the trembling out of my voice. To my relief he stops touching me. I feel him move away on the bed behind me. He pulls both his hands and body away from me momentarily. I hear him give the deep sigh he likes to give when he is frustrated. My body mourns the loss of contact. I want my son in a way I should not.

“Why Mom, why not?” asks Dean pleadingly. “Can’t we just make each other feel good like we used to?. I’ve never stopped thinking about it.”

I feel sick inside. I understand. The physical feelings in tandem with the emotional feelings. As much as I want him, I can’t let us fall into that trap. He has a life to live. I have a life to live. I thought we had done so well for so many years. Now, I fear he was fooling himself this whole time in the way I had been.

I feel his breath in my ear. “Mom?”

His arms wrap around me tighter again. I turn my face to find him right there. His eyes reflect my desire. When he moves his mouth on mine, I let him. When he continued moving his soft mouth against mine pushing me flat on my back, I let him. Kissing him is like taking the deepest, sweetest drug. The high is incredible. When he moves his hands between my legs, I let him. My body remembers what I have forgotten.

“Dean….this.. Oh god.. You need to stop. “

Dean continues working his hands between my legs, but I feel him start to kiss his way down my abdomen. He proceeds to lick and suck between my legs as if he had just been doing it for me yesterday. My body trembles without reserve. He lifts his head for a moment saying,,

“Shh, let this feel good Mom. Cum for me. “

I am unable to hold back. Giving myself over to the moment, I cry out. I can feel myself explode against his face and around his fingers.

I am ashamed. I look up at my son who is staring down at me with undisguised lust.

I want to return this lust. I want his cock in me. I push him gently off me and sit on the edge of the bed. I don’t think I’m the kind of person who can give into this.

I turn to look at him. His eyes meet mine, making me forget my resolve for a moment. He doesn’t say anything to me. I look away and see how prominent his erection is in his lap. He is stroking it slowly with a hungry look on his face. Looking back up into his face, something snaps. Years of control are gone in an instant. Did I really think I could resist this incredible, irresistible man forever? That I could look into those eyes for the rest of my life and not respond to them ever again.

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