Chapter 1

As the piercing sound of my alarm shattered the stillness of the morning, I jolted awake, greeted by the realization that it was already seven. With a groggy sigh, I rolled out of bed, feeling the cool touch of fall drifting through my half-open bedroom window.

Making my way to the kitchen, I stumbled in my half-awake state, hastily setting the coffee machine in motion. Despite the early hour, the comforting routine of preparing breakfast for my mother, Beth, and myself commenced, grounding me amidst the chaos that lay ahead of me for the day.

This daily ritual had been my steadfast companion since I embarked on my new journey, straight out of high school. Much to my mother’s chagrin, I elected to forego college and pursue my interests as a baker. As a single mother, she had devoted herself entirely to raising me over the past eighteen years.

She wrongly felt responsible for my decision, thinking it was about the expenses. I never revealed that the real reason was my intense love for her and my desire to stay by her side.

With my workday beginning at nine, an hour after my mother’s, I took it upon myself to assume the responsibility of preparing breakfast for her each day and cleaning the kitchen before heading off to work. Hearing Mom stir in her room, I placed four slices of rye bread into the toaster.

As I’d done countless times before, I cracked several eggs, skillfully dropping their contents into the sizzling skillet. After confirming the yolks remained intact, I hurried to the refrigerator and retrieved the bowls of fresh fruit.

Once arranged on the table, I poured two cups of coffee, set them by the fruit, and returned to finishing our fried eggs. Just as the aroma of breakfast filled the air, Mom entered the kitchen, settled into her seat, and took a sip of coffee. “Good morning, Adam. Sleep well?”

As the toaster pinged, signaling the completion of the toast, I scooped up the eggs and arranged both on the breakfast plates. I placed them on the table before settling across from her. After spreading some strawberry jam on my toast, I replied, “Last night was a bit warm until I cracked open the window. After that, I slept like a log. How about you?”

Mom took a leisurely bite of her toast, savoring the moment before responding, “No troubles here. My room stays cool, being on the shaded side. Looks like the weekend weather will be delightful. Any plans?”

Between bites, I outlined my agenda, “Tomorrow, I’ll tackle the yard work and wash the East windows. Sunday’s wide open, but I have a few ideas.”

Her smile turned mischievous as she quipped, “It sounds like a lucky girl might be lined up for a date with my handsome son.”

I blushed at her teasing. I hadn’t dated anyone for over a year and Mom never missed a chance to playfully rib me. While we ate, I admired the reason I hadn’t dated. No one could compare with the woman sitting across from me. Her short, tousled brunette hair framed her face perfectly, accentuating her cute smile and the sparkle in her brown eyes. Her magnetic personality filled me with delight, infusing each day with a sense of anticipation as I eagerly awaited the evening to spend more time with my lovely mother.

Breaking my concentration, she rose, grabbed my coffee mug, and turned to the counter to fill our cups. This was one of the highlights of each morning. Her threadbare, short robe hugged her curves and was short enough to show off the lower portion of her smooth, firm thighs. As always, my prick hardened and threatened to escape my robe. I quickly rearranged my hard cock before she returned and sat.

Her worn robe gapped at the neckline, offering a tantalizing glimpse of the gentle curve of her breasts, teasing me without revealing too much. She had hinted in the past she’d like a new robe as a gift, but I always avoided buying one for this reason alone. I was thankful that her thriftiness prevented her from indulging in procuring one. Finishing her meal, she stood, pecked me on the cheek, and said, “As always, thanks for breakfast, Adam. Have a great day.”

I lingered for several minutes, relishing the feel of her warm, moist lips. After cleaning the kitchen, I glanced up to see Mom exit her room, dressed for work. She looked radiant as always and after a light hug, left for work. I glanced at the clock and noticed it was already eight, too late for Mom to make it on time.

Initially, when I began preparing breakfast, she would join me, already dressed for work, quickly eating before rushing off to meet her schedule. However, over the past few months, I noticed a change. She wore her robe and lingered longer at the table. Given her senior position in the company, I wasn’t surprised by her decision to take liberties with her arrival time, opting to savor her mornings a bit longer.

I retired to my room and performed another daily ritual of mine—whacking off to my hot mom. I lay nude in bed, leisurely stroking my hard cock, while my mind filled with Mom and I making love. After a few minutes of slowly pumping my entire length, I smeared the slick pre-cum oozing from my slit onto my shaft. Once lubricated, I gripped my rod with both hands and twisted in opposite directions, sending pangs of pleasure through my groin.

After bringing myself to the brink of eruption, I returned to a slow stroking rhythm, pressing my fingertip into the canal on the underside of my prick. Every third or fourth pump, I gripped and bent my cock to one side and then the other, sending more jolts of pleasure through my groin. Wrapping my fingers directly below my crested crown, I rubbed the sensitive area until I neared orgasm.

Glancing at the clock, I knew I was pressed for time and decided to escalate my masturbation session. I wrapped my hand around my slick, engorged head and twisted it until I was close to ejaculating, then pumped the length of my cock as rapidly as I could while envisioning Mom lying nude on the bed. I’d never seen her without clothes, but it didn’t stop me from imagining her with large, puffy, brown nipples that matched her warm eyes. The vision of her hairy mound hiding her pussy, trimmed into a perfect upside-down triangle, caused my prick to ache and throb.

While I stroked, my prick slid into my mother’s juicy pussy. My hand squeezed hard, fantasizing that it was Mom’s tight pussy surrounding my cock. When my prick was fully engulfed, I twisted my cap once again before stroking like a madman. After a dozen strokes, an image of Mom’s smiling, beautiful face formed, triggering my eruption. Streams of cum shot out my tip, landing on my belly. I continued to milk my cock, creating a large pool of baby batter in the middle of my sunken stomach.

A sudden wave of guilt swept through me as I realized that my hand provided more pleasure than making love to the girls I had dated. I knew it wasn’t because of my technique—it was from fantasizing about my mother.

Grabbing my shorts and T-shirt, I wiped off the remnants of my orgasm. Throwing them in the laundry basket, I felt confident Mom wouldn’t find them as I’d been doing my own laundry for the last few months. After quickly dressing, I dashed off to work, barely making it on time.

As I immersed myself in the task of baking, the aromas wafting from the oven filled the commercial kitchen with a mixture of pleasing smells. While I enjoyed the act of measuring, mixing, and kneading, my mind inevitably wandered to the inappropriate attraction I had of my mother. While I fell deeper in love with her, she didn’t appear to reciprocate my feelings. The fear of jeopardizing our relationship by succumbing to my emotions resurfaced, serving as a reminder to tread carefully in the future.

On Friday night, Mom treated me to one of my favorite meals, marking the joyous conclusion of the work week. As we sat down to dinner, our conversation flowed effortlessly, brimming with laughter and warmth. It challenged me to tear my gaze away from her captivating smile that evening. After clearing the table, we retreated to our rooms to shower.

Repeating my morning ritual, I emptied my balls, the only difference was that I covered the stall wall, rather than my stomach. Hopefully, by relieving my sexual tension, I wouldn’t be distracted throughout the evening. As usual, it didn’t help as much as I had hoped.

As we cozied up on the couch together, Mom nestled close, her warmth enveloping me. The gentle touch of her flannel cotton nightgown against my bare arms was a soothing sensation, adding an extra layer of comfort to our quiet evening of watching sitcoms. It wasn’t long before she rested her head on my shoulder and drifted off.

I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and pulled her closely. A heavy sigh escaped her lips before her breathing deepened. My gaze drifted down to the open gap in her robe, which exposed several inches of the insides of her breasts. My prick jerked with a mind of his own, disregarding the attention I gave him during my shower in an attempt to keep him at bay for the evening.

I leaned down and inhaled deeply, her fragrant hair shampoo wafting through my nostrils. My prick remained fully hard through the next thirty minutes. A burst of laughter from the comedy show abruptly awakened her.

“Wow, guess I dozed off. Sorry, I’m such poor company,” she apologized.

“It’s fine, Mom,” I replied. “You deserve to relax after working all day and then treating me to that big meal. I need to hit the sack anyway, as I have a big day tomorrow.”

We rose and when we hugged, my tented sweatpants bumped against her, but she didn’t acknowledge it. With our heads side-by-side, I snuck a whiff of her intoxicating natural scent.

Back in bed, I stroked off another load with the fresh memories from the evening.

We spent all day Saturday doing chores. While I attended to the outside areas, Mom cleaned the house, and to my dismay, ran both of our laundry baskets through the washer and dryer. Thankfully, she didn’t mention my crusty underwear, but I quickly convinced myself that most mothers wouldn’t be bothered or upset when encountering their sons’ signs of adulthood.

On Sunday, the hours languished until after lunch. Restless, Mom fidgeted on the couch, her impatience getting the best of her. She turned to me and exclaimed, “You mentioned you had something planned for today. Surprise me.”

“Alright,” I replied with a mischievous grin. “Prepare yourself for some exercise. Dress accordingly.”

“Tennis shoes it is,” Mom eagerly chimed in, bounding off to her room to prepare. Meanwhile, I headed to my room to change. I threw on a pair of shorts and a tank top, appropriate attire for a sunny, warm afternoon.

When I met Mom, I did a double-take as my eyes soaked up her beauty. Her short tennis skirt flattered her long, toned legs. When my gaze traveled upward, I briefly paused on her tight blouse, the outer edges of her bra pressed against the thin material. When I ended on her blushing face, she smiled before her eyes scanned my hairy legs.

“Looks like we’re ready to go,” she chirped, strolling to the door. I grabbed my backpack and headed out. We walked to the park and when we were at a large grassy area, I extracted a frisbee from the bag.

“Seriously?” Mom exclaimed. “Don’t you think I’m a little old for that?”

“Not at all, Mom,” I replied. “You’re in great shape and I thought it’d be nice to do something that I enjoyed during my childhood.”

“I do recall that we had a lot of fun. It was a cheap way to pass the time and it kept us in shape. I’m game if you are,” she shouted as she ran a distance before turning.

I spun it toward her and surprisingly, she leaped to the side and caught it, her smile broadening from her achievement. We tossed it back and forth, each of us working up a sweat. On one of my throws, it went by her and landed several feet behind her. When she bent to pick it up, her short skirt rose, revealing the backs of her thighs.

My prick throbbed and being careful not to be too obvious, I intentionally flicked it past her every fifth or sixth time, enjoying the display of Mom’s bare legs. One time, she leaned over so far that her blue panties came into view. She lingered, before standing and tossing the frisbee back to me. After an hour, we decided we had enough exercise.

On the walk back, she enveloped her arm with mine. With each step, my arm bumped against her breast, adding to my excited state. “I haven’t had this much fun for years,” Mom exclaimed with a smile. “Thanks so much, Adam.”

“It was just as I remembered it. I loved the things we did together when growing up. I’m glad you enjoyed it as much as I did,” I replied warmly.

After we entered our house, Mom glanced down at my tented shorts, looked up at me with a sexy smirk, and asked, “Any other ideas to finish the day?”

“I thought it’d be nice to dine out tonight at La Bella,” I proposed.

Seeing her smile widen, my stomach fluttered with excitement as I suggested, “Let’s shower and get dressed.”

“Wonderful,” Mom replied, turning, before making her way to her room. I remained, my gaze locked onto the backs of her shapely legs until she disappeared behind her door.

She adorned herself in a dress I hadn’t laid eyes on in years, yet I found myself quite pleased with her selection. The sapphire blue gown perfectly accented her brown hair and eyes. The plunging V-neckline showcased an ample display of cleavage, her pure alabaster flesh drawing my eyes. A snug belt showed off her thin waist, her dress hugging her curvy hips, ending below her knees by several inches.

Her expression begged for approval and I was only too happy to oblige. “You’re beautiful, Mom. Every man in the restaurant will be admiring you,” I complimented my blushing mother.

“Oh, stop it,” she giggled. “You’re too kind, but it does feel good to dress up every now and then. And I must say, you clean up quite nicely, yourself.”

Upon arrival at the restaurant, I approached the hostess and confidently spoke, “Reservations for Beth and Adam Johnson, please.”

With a smile, she remarked, “What a lovely couple. I have a romantic table that would be perfect for you.”

“Thanks, but that won’t be necessary,” I responded. “My mother and I would prefer one of those booths instead.”

“Of course. Follow me,” she directed. After seating, we ordered and before long, we engrossed ourselves in lively conversation. We never had difficulty conversing with each other and continued chatting throughout our meal. It turned into a delightful evening and I loved watching Mom laugh and smile.

The insides of her breasts, exposed from her neckline, quivered and shook each time she giggled. My gaze alternated from her breasts to her smiling face. She never acted offended by my obvious leering and after a while, I didn’t hide the fact I was staring at my mother’s chest.

When we returned home, Mom hugged me, holding me closely. Kissing my neck she gushed, “Thank you for a delightful evening, Adam.”

I gently kissed Mom’s soft neck and replied, “I enjoyed it too. I love every moment spent with you.” As my warm breath caressed her ear, she squeezed me tightly, drawing me closer. Her familiar scent enveloped me, and I wished for our embrace to linger longer, but all too soon, she stepped back and walked to her room. “Goodnight, Adam,” she softly spoke before closing her door.

While I lay in bed hashing over the day’s events, I chastised myself for delving deeper into my infatuation with my mother. My love for her was far too strong to reverse direction. I only hoped my physical attraction wouldn’t offend her at one point and affect our relationship.

Thursday night, I lay in bed nude while stroking my cock after a night of cuddling with Mom. The cool breeze from the open window couldn’t evaporate my juices fast enough as my hand effortlessly slid up and down my shaft of steel. I closed my eyes and envisioned Mom’s nude body beneath me.

Suddenly, a low humming sound caught my attention. Opening my eyes, a sliver of blue light caught my attention as the noise ascended into a high-pitched shrill. An oval opening appeared, and after a woman stepped out of it, the light and sounds dissipated.

Following her gaze, I looked at my hand, firmly wrapped around my cock. I quickly pulled the sheet over me. Blinking my eyes in an attempt to clarify her image, my jaw dropped as I stared at an older version of Mom. Her hair was streaked with several streaks of gray, but her smile and cute face undeniably belonged to my mother.

“Mom?” I stuttered, still unsure if I was asleep, and in a dream of some sort. Perhaps, all of the intimate fantasies of my mother had twisted my mind into something surreal.

“Did I come at a bad time, Adam?” she asked. Her voice was distinctly Mom’s but my mind kept reminding me that it was an illusion.

“This isn’t real. You’re just a dream, a figment of my imagination,” I surmised, confident I would soon jolt awake.

She inched closer until her hand snuck under my sheet and traveled up my hairy leg until her fingers wrapped around my still-hard cock. “Does this feel like it’s imaginary?” she asked, giggling.

Utter confusion gripped me as tightly as Mom’s hand squeezed my prick. Uncertain of what question to ask first, Mom softly spoke, “Yes, it’s me dear. I’m your mother from twenty years in the future.”

While she continued to stroke my cock, I resisted the urge to move her hand away. It felt too good and if it was a dream, I wanted it to last as long as possible. Remembering the lighted portal, I incredulously asked, “Time travel is possible in twenty years?”

She chuckled and replied, “No, of course not. Someone from the far future contacted me and asked for my assistance. It appears the timeline experienced a hiccup and they enlisted my aid in repairing it.”

With her other hand, she flipped my sheet off and sat on the edge of the bed. Gripping both her hands around my cock, she twisted her hands in opposite directions in the way I cherished most. I couldn’t help myself from moaning with pleasure.

Noticing my puzzled look from her cock caressing, she explained, “Don’t be shocked by my actions. It’s part of my assignment to ensure everything is functioning correctly in this time period. Trust me, sweetie. Close your eyes and allow me to continue.”