Unspoken Pleasure (erotica)
Unexpected Side Effects: 1

Summary: Son helps mom deal with an unexpected side effect. Read and enjoy...

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"Mom, if you pass me that canister," Stan pointed to a round, tin container with sunflowers on the outside and flour on the inside, "I can put it up here. We don't use it much, so it'll be out of the way."

"I appreciate you helping me reorganize the kitchen. I never liked how your father insisted I keep it, and now's the right time to change all that." She passed him the canister, pressing into him a bit as she did. Did she just rub herself on me? Stan thought, feeling odd at the encounter. You're being stupid. She's your mom.

Stan huffed. His parents had separated more than a year ago and their divorce had just become final. He was glad his mom was finally taking this step, moving on from that relationship. He'd been worried about her. "Glad to help." "I know, I know. I should have done this long ago." It was as though she was reading his thoughts.

"Mom, everything in its own time. You're the best one to know when to do things for yourself."

"I hope you don't think I'm trying to trash him in your eyes."

Stan stepped down from the stool he'd used to reach the top cupboard shelf. "Not at all, Mom." Gripping her shoulders, lowering his head just a bit, cocking it to one side, he continued. "You've been a trooper, gone through a lot of stuff, and I've never felt you were trying to diminish my relationship with Dad, such as it is. I'm glad we're making these changes to clean the house of him. It's already feeling fresher, friendlier in here."

"Thanks son." She stepped in close, put her arms around him, gave him a tight squeeze. He tingled when her hips rocked against him. Does she know she's doing that?

She released him, turning away. Just his mom again.

"Are you feeling alright, Mom?" He looked at her, noting her fine facial features. Elvish, he'd always thought. She's a dainty lady. Blonde curls framed her delicate nose and chin, cascading past her shoulders, extending to the tops of her breasts. Bosoms. She's your mom, so they're bosoms. She only came up to his armpits, something he'd teased her about ever since his head had nudged higher than hers. He had always thought she looked amazing with her narrow shoulders, slim waist, and legs. But then, she was his mom, and he knew his impression of her was tainted by the love he had for her. Even though he'd seen age working on her, thickening in her thighs and hips, a small paunch but hardly noticeable, certainly nothing like Dad's beer gut. Too, there were lines around her mouth and by her eyes, and speckles of grey at her temples, but after all, she's approaching forty. Stan hoped he looked as good when he was her age, twenty years from now. "Yes," she gave him a funny look, as though she was concerned or frightened, but it lasted only a moment. "Why?"

"Oh, nothing." Stan stammered, wanting to take back his question and his thoughts. "I just worry about you. I know you've been stressed lately."

"I'm a big girl, but I appreciate the concern."

"You been taking those pills the doctor gave you? You know, for the anxiety."

"Yes, mother." She gave him a stern look.

Stan dropped the subject. "OK, what next?"

They continued to work, assembling the kitchen how his mother wanted it. That made sense to him. She did most of the work in it, so it should suit her. Stan continued to watch his mother, remembering how she's rubbed against him. He wasn't certain why it stuck in his mind, or why it resulted in that tingle that reverberated through him. Maybe because when it happened, it stirred up some of the same feelings that came when a girlfriend got close to him.

He didn't have a girlfriend right now, having broken up with the last one a month ago. He missed the sex play, but not the mind games she was playing, manipulating him. Thinking about how she would touch him, how she felt, caused a flush of tingles in his crotch, so he turned his mind back to the work they were doing.

"Thanks, Stan," his mother sighed. "I am glad that job's done." She stood, one hand on her hip, glancing around the room. The other hand was in front of her, low, hidden by the waist-high counter that was between them. It moved a little. Is she rubbing herself? The thought rocketed into his brain.

He felt a flush as his concentration focussed on that spot. "Mom, what are you doing?" The words were spoken before he could stop them from spilling out.

"What?" Her head snapped toward him. That hand continued to move. Looking at his face, she must have noticed his stare, because then she looked down. Her hand froze for a moment, then moved behind her in a blur. "Oh," the word barked out, but the rest of her sentence was more controlled, "I guess I'm just a little itchy." Her face flushed, and she didn't meet his eyes. She gave him a weak smile. "I'm sorry. Wasn't thinking." Seeing how embarrassed she was, Stan let her off the hook with just a squint. "If we're all done, I'm going to watch some TV."

"Uh, sure. That's a good idea." She turned and headed down the hallway that led to her bedroom.

What's up? Stan wondered. She always says I watch too much TV.

Later, Mom joined him in the living room. Stan was watching The Slicker Club, a sitcom about a group of millennials struggling with their view of how their families should treat them. He found it only mildly amusing, but two of the actresses stimulated his imagination and libido as he fantasized how he would service them if given the opportunity. In his mind, they would come to amazing, life-changing orgasms because of his tongue, fingers, and cock. Today, he had managed to reward himself with a painful erection. When his mom came in, he had to shift his posture to ensure his hard-on wasn't visible.

"I don't know how you can watch this show." His mom sighed as she settled onto the far end of the couch. Dad's chair was the only other seating in the room, but neither used it much. To Stan, it felt like some sort of violation. Dad had been so insistent on no one else sitting in it. "I have it shaped to my ass. Don't go spoiling that." Twice, Stan had sat in it, bounced up and down, trying to erase that aspect of his father from the house. His mom wasn't the only one who had suffered. Dad hadn't been cruel, more mean and demeaning, but Stan still maintained contact. He didn't miss him now that he wasn't here.

"It has its moments. Makes me laugh." Stan had to say something, so she didn't know his real reason. He would slink away to his bedroom and take care of his stimulation later. As they watched the antics on the screen, Stan heard his mom laughing, too.