Unspoken Pleasure (erotica)
Mom's Touch But Don't Look Policy:>Ep17

I groaned as the ecstasy rushed over me. One massive squirt. Then another. Filling the condom. Emptying myself. Mom rolled under me. Both of us entwined under the spell we'd created together.

I knew in that moment that Mom was truly mine.

I stepped back. Mom stayed bent over the sink. Then, like nothing had happened, she went back to washing the dishes, humming to herself tunelessly. The long green shirt hung down to her mid-thigh. My dick still hung out of my shorts. The used condom, covered in Mom's juices and filled with my semen, felt cold and slimy on my cock.

I took it off, carefully, and dumped it in the trash. Then I tucked myself away. Mom turned when she heard me closing my zip.

"You going to help here or what?" she asked. A dopey grin played on her lips. I sidled up next to her and grabbed the towel. She handed me a plate and I rubbed it dry.

"Sorry, spaced out for a minute," I said, as if any of that made sense.

"You know, I can't think of the last time I enjoyed doing the dishes that much," Mom said, she turned her head to look right at me.

"It's been a while?" I asked, unable to control the cocky grin overtaking my face.

"Decades," Mom said. She smiled right back at me.

*

For the first time in over a month, we skipped our usual TV night. We both knew why. It wasn't an ending. It was the beginning. And both of us wanted to be ready for it.

The next morning, I woke up in my own bed and it felt weird. I was so used to passing out in other places. I got dressed and found Mom waiting for me in the kitchen. Already stretching. She had on a pair of short shorts and a black sports bra. Her little bellybutton flashed as she bent to the side.

"It's super-hot out," Mom said.

I pulled my shirt off. Mom didn't bother to hide her gape. She reached out to touch my chest and I let her. Traced her fingers on my bare pecs and stomach.

"Have I told you how good you look?" Mom asked, "You're amazing."

"You too," I said, and I risked touching Mom's naked tummy. She flinched, but she didn't say anything.

"We need to get going," Mom said, "Before things get too hot to run."

We got a good start. My body felt perfectly timed, like a machine. Despite my speed, Mom stayed right behind me. I noticed how trim she looked. She caught me staring back at her and smiled.

"Eyes on your own paper, mister," she called out to me.

"You're only hanging back there to stare at my ass," I said. I had been joking, but then Mom pinked, and I realized I was right on the mark. Mom sped up and ran by my side.

"View's pretty good here, too, she said, eyeing my bare chest. I pointedly did the same. Her breasts were strapped in tight, I couldn't see a thing, but still.

"Be careful not to trip this time," I told Mom, who was studying my torso like she had an exam on it coming up. This time, she blushed so deep, I thought she might pass out.

We did a full eight miles. The most either of us had ever done. It felt easy, like I could have gone another eight if I wanted. We came home giggly. Fell onto the front lawn and rolled on the grass. Laughing under the cloudless, blue sky.

I leaned turned over and grabbed Mom's shoulders. Her eyes met mine. We were out in the middle of the neighborhood. The whole world could see us. I leaned forward. Mom's eyes met mine.

"We missed our TV night yesterday," I said.

"I was worn out from doing the dishes," Mom said. She gave me a playful grin.

"Well, I think you owe me some screen time," I said.

"Is that so?"

Mom's arms were around my waist. My hands were on her shoulders. I closed my eyes. Leaned forward. Felt Mom's breath on my lips.

Her cellphone rang.

It rang again.

She reached into her pocket and took it out. "It's your father," she said, showing me the screen. Like I needed the evidence.

I let Mom up and she leapt to her feet.

"Hey hon!" I heard her say, as the front screen door swung closed behind her. I lay back on the grass with a loud sigh.

*

I got out of the shower and got dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. When I came downstairs, I found Mom already sitting at the table. She was back in her usual uniform of a flannel shirt over a white, ribbed tank top and high-waisted jeans. A plate of waffles sat in front of her. My heart sank.

When I was a kid, whenever I had a bad day, Mom would make waffles for me. I don't know how the tradition started, but at some point, it was established that they were our comfort food. That plate was the death knell of what we'd been doing. It told me everything that Mom couldn't say.

I sat down and Mom placed two steaming circles onto my plate. She couldn't meet my eye.

"Your father's coming home tonight," Mom said, "He finally got all the paperwork through. We have to pick him up at Bradley after dinner."

"I see," I said, "You must be happy he'll be home." It was a cheap shot, I know, but Mom batted it away like a pro.

"It'll be nice to have the family all together again," she said.

"I'm sure."

I could barely taste my breakfast, but I forced myself to eat. Mom sat and watched me. She was smiling, but her eyes looked sad. I knew in that moment that Mom wasn't any happier about this than I was. Just more mature. "It's been fun," Mom said, "the last few weeks."

"For sure," I said.

"I don't want to lose that," Mom said, "I mean, the closeness that we have."

"Me neither," I said. I reached across the table and took Mom's hand. "I'm not letting you go."

Mom nodded. She got up from the table, and I swear I heard a sniffle.

After breakfast, I helped Mom clear the table and do the dishes. I would never see that sink the same way again.

"After this, you want to watch something?" Mom asked. I nearly dropped the plate I was drying. "You know, one last time before your father gets home."

I nodded, mute. Unable to express myself anymore.

"I think my bedroom will be fine," Mom said. Her message was clear.

After we finished with the dishes, I went up to my bedroom. I grabbed both remaining condom packets and put them in my pocket. If this was the last hurrah, then I was making the most of it.

Mom was waiting in her bedroom, the blanket already up to her waist.

"Come rest your head," she told me, patting her shoulder.

I climbed under the covers and slipped off my shorts. I scooched in next to Mom, putting my head right where she wanted. I pushed my legs against Mom's and felt that she, too, was naked below the waist.

"This is the last time," Mom said, "Our last chance to do this together."

"Pretty sure we can still watch TV," I said, even though I knew exactly what she meant.

"Not like this," Mom said, and she sounded wistful. Sad.

She reached over and pushed play on my iPad. The show came on and we did something completely different. We actually cuddled. We stayed in the bed, enjoying each other's company. Mom absently stroked my head. I held her close. Strangely, it was the most intimate thing we'd done.

But biology inevitably came knocking and soon, I found myself reaching for the condoms. As soon as I opened the first one, I knew something was wrong. The latex felt dry and thin. It had clearly gone bad, so I tossed it away. I opened my last packet and, thankfully, it was fine. I guess it made sense. Last time together. Last condom.

I climbed between Mom's waiting thighs and slid inside of her. We rolled together slowly, taking our time. We didn't say anything, but we stared at each other while we made love. We didn't do anything else. No extra motions or extraneous sounds. We enjoyed the connection of our bodies. It was lovely.

Finally, I filled the condom. Then I emptied Mom. She rubbed her hand up my flank, like rewarding a racehorse after a good run. She was staring, intently, and I realized she was looking at the condom. I held it up like offering it to her. Mom shook her head and looked away.