Chapter 3

The lazy afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the park as we lounged on the grass, our usual Saturday routine. As evening descended, we returned home for a quiet night of watching videos. I excused myself to bed and Patrick followed soon after, not bothering to hide his intentions. Without exchanging words, I stripped off my shirt and slipped under the covers. He joined me, casually draping an arm over my body and initiating small talk while his hand wandered over my breast. Eventually, as darkness filled the room, he withdrew his arm and I pretended to be asleep, curious about his next move.

My heart raced as I felt his hand move down to my buttock, gently exploring through the fabric of my shorts. But when he attempted to slip his fingers beneath the leg opening, I knew it was time to end this game. I stirred and made noises to signal that I was awake. Patrick quickly backed off and we both drifted into slumber.

The following Sunday was spent lazily in our apartment, I indulged in snacks and wine while reading the newspaper and he was watching TV and drinking soda. As we headed to bed that night, I was relieved to have my own space again. However, on Monday after work, I returned home to another home-cooked meal from Patrick and couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty about enjoying his company so much. The thought of him eventually leaving for college left a heavy weight in my chest.

Later that evening, I left Patrick at home while visiting friends. When I returned, he was already in bed. In the privacy of my en-suite bathroom, I undressed and climbed into bed with him. His hands immediately found their way to my breast and then to my buttocks.

“Do you want me to take off my shorts?” I whispered.

Patrick eagerly agreed and I pushed them down just enough for his wandering fingers to have easier access. The sensation of his touch on my bare skin sent shivers down my spine. As his fingers traced every inch of my body, I could feel myself getting dangerously close to climaxing. But when he reached for the intimate space between my buttocks, I knew we had gone too far. With a quick movement, I pulled his hand away and whispered,

“Let’s not go any further. We could get into trouble.”

I felt Patrick’s warm breath against my skin as he rolled over and away from me. The sheets rustled beneath us, a stark contrast to the heavy silence that now hung in the air between us. I lay there, my body humming with unfulfilled desire, wanting nothing more than to release myself to orgasm. But the fear of being caught by my son kept me frozen in place.

But then I felt Patrick’s body begin to move in a rhythmic motion. I knew what he was doing, and while it was clear he was drawing closer to climax, I didn’t dare join him. His movements grew faster and more urgent until finally he groaned and collapsed next to me, shaking with release. In my mind, I was certain that his moans were for me, and I couldn’t help but wonder what we were doing to each other in his fantasy.

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks - I wanted Patrick. In just a few weeks, my feelings had shifted from motherly love to something much more complex. The absence of my husband had left a void that only Patrick seemed capable of filling. I knew then that I couldn’t go without sex any longer.

As the light of Monday morning began to filter through the curtains, I lay there reflecting on what had happened between us and what could happen in the future. But before I could come to any conclusions, Patrick stirred next to me. He looked so peaceful and content, and I didn’t have the heart to disturb him.