Unspoken Pleasure (erotica)
Mom's Touch But Don't Look Policy:>Ep18

When I came back from flushing the condom in the toilet, Mom was lying on top of the covers. She was fully dressed. This time, she patted the side of the bed where she wanted me to sit.

We lay back and watched (actually watched this time) a bunch of banal reality shows. They weren't bad, really. But nothing was better than being with Mom. The whole world seemed muted in comparison.

We ate a staid, almost funereal dinner. As I chewed, I mentally reviewed everything that had happened the past month or so. How Cassie had broken up with me. How Mom and I started watching movies together. Starting to run with Mom. Starting to do, um, other things with Mom. Painting her nails in the backyard. Painting her pussy with my tongue in her bedroom. And then, finally, the two of us becoming one.

It was over.

I knew it was going to be hard, but both of us would move on. This time would be a passing reverie. A fever dream of sounds and sentiments. Something that neither of us would ever admit to, but in our secret hearts would share forever. Mom would go back to her life. I'd meet a girl and marry. In stolen moments, we'd share a sneaking smile, but that was all. And even then, we'd wonder if it was all imagined. A skip in time. A blip where the world paused and we slipped around the seconds like phantoms.

Mom's phone buzzed and she looked down at it.

"Your father's flight is delayed," she said. A moment later the phone rang. Mom pushed the button to answer it on speaker, sliding her cell into the middle of the table.

"Hi David!" Mom said, remarkably cheerful. "Jay and I are here -- we saw about your flight. That sucks!"

"It's fine," Dad said. His voice was tired. "I just can't wait to get home."

"I'm sure," Mom said, "We'll have the bed all set up and ready for you." I thought that was a strange thing to promise, but in the context of what we'd been doing in there, I'm sure it was an important detail to Mom. "Whatever," Dad said, "You're still going to come get me."

"Yes, Jay's all set to come pick you up," Mom said. She smiled at me, warmly.

"Don't just send the kid, Julie, seriously," Dad said. Something about how he called me 'the kid' made me wonder if he realized I was on the phone, too. Mom had clearly said I was there, hadn't she?

"Oh, definitely," Mom said, "I can't wait to see you, too. But I'm sure, if he had to, Jay would be fine on his own."

"Jesus Julie, look. I know that Jay's your sweet little boy or whatever, but even you have to admit, he's not exactly firing on all cylinders."

"He's right... He's listening to..." Mom tried to interrupt him, but Dad plowed forward.

"I mean, the kid's almost 19 and I barely trust him to drive to the supermarket for milk without getting in two accidents on the way and bringing home eggs, instead. Let alone the hour's drive up to Bradley and back in the middle of the night." Mom looked at me, ashamed. As if this was somehow her fault. Both of us flushed. I felt embarrassed. Angry. All of it. Still Dad kept going.

"He must've gotten the brains from your family, Julie," Dad said, "Seriously, it's a good thing you were pretty when you were younger, or you wouldn't even have gotten this far."

"Have you been drinking, dear?" Mom asked.

"Only a little while I'm waiting for my flight," Dad said, "OK -- I'm going to go. 12:30, don't forget. I'll text you when I'm boarding."

Click.

The room was so silent, I could hear the house settling. A dog barked in the distance. Mom wouldn't meet my eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Jay. Your father didn't realize."

"Don't be sorry," I said. I stood up from the table.

"He shouldn't have said those things about you," Mom said, "Your father hasn't seen how much you've grown up all these years. We're still used to thinking of you as the little boy who nearly burned down the house making Pop Tarts. That's all." "He shouldn't have said those things about you, either," I said.

Mom looked down at the table. "It's OK. I'm used to it."

"That's not OK, Mom," I said.

"No, I know," Mom said, "But what else do I have?"

You have me. I thought the words, but I couldn't speak them. To say that, somehow, a son could fill in for a husband. That was ludicrous. The roles, the relationships, they were completely different. But then, wasn't that what we'd been doing this whole time?

"You deserve to be treated better," I said, "Like the amazing, wonderful, gorgeous woman that you are."

"I know," Mom said, "Your father's been gone for so long. He's having a terrible day. Probably a few too many drinks, too. He isn't usually like this."

I'd known my dad my whole life (duh). I knew he was drunk and probably depressed, too. But I also knew that he'd meant every word he said on that call. But whatever anger and resentment I had was washed away by a melancholy for my

mom.

I had a scholarship. I was going to get back to college. I could leave that place forever if I wanted. But Mom had to live the rest of her life this way and it wasn't fair. She was worthy of so much more.

I guess, being Mom's little knight again, I wanted to save her. Instead, I suggested something far more dangerous.

"We've got time to kill," I said, "Want to watch a movie?"

Mom looked at me and sighed. I could see her weighing it in her mind. Knowing that she should say no, but unable to not say yes.

"I have to get the bed ready for your father," she said.

"I can help with that," I said with a smirk.

"Actually ready," Mom said.

"That'll take, like, five minutes. We have four hours."

Mom paused. I could almost see the angel and the devil on her shoulders, arguing back and forth across her brain.

"Movie only," she said. "No other stuff."

I readily agreed.

*

We put fresh sheets down on the bed. Mom put on a different comforter and changed the pillowcases. Finally, I gave the bedroom a thorough Febreze, just in case.

We went downstairs to Dad's room, and I turned on the TV. Mom sat on the couch next to me. Our hips touched, but that was all.

Mom set an alarm on her phone for when we had to leave the house to go pick up Dad. It was going to be a late night, and she was worried we might fall asleep in front of the TV.

"We have to be there right on time," Mom said, like the world would end, otherwise.

I nodded and started flipping channels to replace something to watch.

"Let's try something different this time," Mom said. I understood that she was really reminding me that this wasn't going to be like our usual screen time.

I flipped around the channels and found, in a very edited format of course, Bridesmaids. This was the opposite of different, of course. It was the very movie we'd started with. I took it as a sign and stuck with it.

A few minutes in, I grabbed the blanket and pulled it over myself.

"Cold?" Mom asked.

"Sure," I said. I reached over to Mom's pants and started to unsnap the buttons. Mom shifted under my touch.

"Jay, I don't think we should do that," she said. But I could hear the variance in her voice. She truly, literally, wasn't sure.

"Do what?" I asked, and zipped Mom's jeans open. Mom sighed, exasperated, but she didn't say anything more.

I played around with her pussy, through her panties. Just lazily took my time. After a bit, I grabbed Mom's hand and brough it over to my lap, landing it right on my dick. Mom made a little moan. She squeezed my hardness through my shorts. Both of us were stroking each other through our clothes. To my surprise, Mom was the first one to shuck off her pants.

"It's really warm in here," she explained as she slipped her jeans and panties right off.

"Definitely," I said and did the same.

Bridemaids ended and another movie started. I was no longer paying attention. Mom's hand slipped up and down my bare dick. I rubbed and played with Mom's slippery pussy. We were teasing each other. Taking our time. Two people so expert at bringing each other off that it had become second nature.

But I wanted more.

"Mom, I want to cuddle," I said.

"We are cuddling, dear," Mom said. She put her arm around my shoulders to make her point.

"Mooooom," I said, whining once again, "This isn't cuddling."

Mom rolled her eyes at me, but she was teasing. "I guess we could sit on the floor."

"Yes!"

"But, you know, we should be careful on the floor," Mom said, "There's no carpet. So, it's bare. Down there. And we should make sure to cover ourselves."

I gave Mom a wistful frown. "We, um, ran out," I said, "Of coverings."

Mom was already sitting on the floor. Before she could reconsider, I slid down behind her, careful to keep the blanket over us.

"Oh, honey, today is really not a good time for that," Mom said.

"I'll be extra careful," I said, realizing what Mom was saying. She had felt extra slippery when I'd fingered her. I'd assumed it was her arousal from us doing this once again. But it was more than that, I realized. "We'll need to be cautious," Mom said.

"Tell you what," I said, "I'll be the only one on the floor. You can sit on my lap."

"That's kind of the opposite of what I was saying, sweetie," Mom said. But she dutifully let me slide under her. My dick squeezed down under Mom's dripping sex.

Mom slowly began sliding her backside on my shaft.

"This is... Very. Comfortable," Mom said.

"I wish I could sit closer," I said, "Cuddle more."

"Honey, we can't," Mom said, "Not like this. Not today."

"OK," I said.

"It does feel nice," Mom said. "Snuggling. With my special guy."

I reached around Mom's hips and found her clit. She sucked in her breath.

"Be careful, OK, honey?" Mom said.

"I just want to make you feel good," I said, meaning it.

"I know, baby boy, but Mommy needs to stay in control."

"You're always in control, Mom," I said, "I'll do whatever you want."

"I know," Mom said, "But sometimes... Sometimes Mommy makes mistakes. I don't want to do something we both regret."

"I couldn't," I said, "As long as it's what you want, then it's right for me."