Chapter 14

It had been a late night for Gary and Abigail Chadwick, the election went well into the morning and their candidate had lost by a narrow margin. The bright spot was that Congress had tipped in their direction and their local candidates were good until the next term. As with most couples, the election process was a stressful time but was more so for Gary who was the personal lawyer for the mayor of Newton. Abigail could have stayed in bed and gone back to sleep, but she was anxious to get up, have a cup of coffee, get breakfast out of the way, and call the airlines for a ticket to London to visit Arthur over the Thanksgiving Holiday. I don’t suppose they celebrate Thanksgiving there Abby thought ... Nah, it’s strictly an American Holiday.

With the way the political component of Gary’s law practice had been piling up Abby had been seeing precious little of her husband. She found herself wondering if another woman might be involved. At the moment though she was thrilled that he had encouraged her to go to London to see Arthur. At the same time, with their lack of sexual activity, she was troubled by the inappropriate thoughts about her son that were popping up more often in her brain. What kind of mother would be thinking like this? Might I be making the wrong decision to go over there now with these feelings percolating the way they have been?

When the phone rang she thought it was probably Minerva Coe calling to chew on the results of the election. Answering the phone, she heard: “Hello, Mrs. Chadwick, my name is Colette Bentley, I’m a friend of your son Arthur’s.”

Her heart dropped into her stomach as she thought something must have happened to him. “Is he OK?”

“Yes, there is nothing wrong here,” the woman on the line said in a cheery English voice, “he’s fine.” There was a brief pause then, “Let me explain Mrs. Chadwick. I’m a British Airways stewardess who lives in London. I met Arthur on his flight to London. I was deadheading back to Heathrow after a brief visit to the states when I had the pleasure of sitting next to your son on the airplane.”

Energized by the adrenalin of being assured that her son was fine the tiredness brought on by the late election night vanished. But she was confused about why the woman called. The English lady told how she had met Arthur on her flight to Heathrow and how “impressed” she was with him. She told Abby about “deadheading,” a term foreign to a person who had not done much flying. Abby was impressed that on her day off after having flown the entire night that the Chadwick woman had been kind enough to show Arthur some of the highlights of London before taking him to check into his dormitory. She sounds like a real sweet person Abby thought but was still mystified by the call.

As Colette Bentley went on Abby became intrigued with the Brit’s friendly presentation. When she said that she could get Abby free flights for her to Heathrow and back to Boston she found it hard to believe how that could happen. But the woman kept insisting, telling her that she would be “working” the flights herself both ways and was “eager to meet Arthur’s mother.” After hanging up Abby was in a dither. She went to her to the bedroom where and woke her husband. When he finally cleared his thoughts and understood what his wife was telling him he said, “I’ve heard that airline employees had those kinds of perks, but I thought it only included family. Of course, she could lie about you being family but that’s not our concern.” Shaking his head, he smiled and said, “Imagine our shy boy making friends with an airline stewardess of all people. I wouldn’t have minded that happening to me when I was his age.”

Irritated by Gary’s comment about Arthur being shy Abby said, “Arthur’s not as shy as you think.” She felt her face warm as she blushed and thought If he could only imagine some of the thoughts I’ve been having about our son. “He hasn’t dated much but according to his friends he certainly appeals to girls, and I can certainly understand THAT. He’s just been more into his studies. He’s studying abroad after all and is still in high school, Gary.”

“If he’s not being distracted by his stewardess friend,” her husband said with a smirking grin.

“It’s not like that at all Gary, as I understand it, she’s close to our age and they’re just friends. I swear Gary all men seem to just one thing on your minds.” And you haven’t been doing that thing with me lately she thought.

“So, Mrs. Chadwick,” Gary said, “what makes you think your son might not be thinking that way himself? From what I’ve heard airline stewardesses are a promiscuous bunch. And, by the way, what makes you think she’s our age.”

“Well, when I asked how long she had been with the airline she said twenty-two years.”

With a roll of his eyes, Gary said, “Yeah but I imagine she still looks good. They don’t employ toads you know.”

Her husband’s comment made her think how charmingly Colette Bentley’s personality came across on the phone: sparkling, alluring, fixing the image of an attractive, fit woman in her mind’s eye. “Promiscuous bunch,” she thought could she have that kind of interest in my boy?” which triggered the recurring thought maybe it would be a good idea for mothers to be sexual mentors for their sons.

Noticing his wife’s nostrils flaring Gary said, “Is anything wrong Abby?”

“It just makes me mad Gary when everything always comes around to sex, which by the way we haven’t been doing much of lately.”

With a sensual chortle, Gary said, “our son having sex with an airline stewardess makes me horny Abby, does it for you?”

Though she was at the point in the squabble where she had to maintain the position of the proper, moralistic mother Abby, riven with jealousy, felt darts of titillation tickling her sexual parts as she said, “Honestly, Gary is your default position on male/female relationships only about having sex?”

“Well, baby if you had to deal with something like this every morning (he threw the covers back and uncovered his morning erection which jutted out of this pajama fly) you might be inclined to think this way more often yourself.”

Jesus, she thought in a confusing snit, I’ve been thinking about sex the last two months with nothing to show for it which triggered the outburst, “You’ve neglected me sexually for months you asshole. And when we do have sex, I’m always the one who has to ask for it! Why can’t YOU be the aggressor for once and make ME do something ... maybe demand that I suck your cock or something. Instead (as she always did, she made the move) putting her left knee on the mattress and in one action levered herself up: bringing her right knee over his body while grabbing his cock, swiping his knob through the trough of her moister than usual vagina. Centering it well in her threshold, she let gravity take over and enjoyed the slide as she impaled herself on his erection.

She knew he would be doing no more than silently thrusting upward as she rode him until he came. And he always came too soon. I have a clitoris you could rub for Chrissakes. Tell me to sit on your face. Or tell me that you want to fuck me in the ass. Bringing her finger to her clitoris to get herself off before he came, she thought why I couldn’t have married a dominant, exciting man rather than such a wimp like you?

Recalling what her husband said about airline stewardesses being promiscuous she thought I hope Colette Bentley teaches Arthur to be a better lover than you, Gary. It would be such a waste of his big, beautiful cock. GEEZE, why did I think of THAT? Since that day four years ago when she saw what she wasn’t supposed to see she had often thought of her son’s surrealistic prominence. And why am I so seriously imagining that Arthur is having sex with Colette Bentley? Maybe I’m just looking for a convenient woman my age through whom I can live vicariously.

When Gary rolled out of bed and headed for the shower Abby turned on her back and brought her hand to her clit which was still swollen, gliding her fingertip around its slippery, cum-coated prominence. With tendrils of electricity coursing from her nipples to her toes, she thought at least I can still feel the memory of Gary’s cock moving inside me. And there it was again, the perpetual image of Arthur’s erect penis she saw that day. The vivid memory that so stubbornly clung to her mind made her rub her clitoris more vigorously. Once she achieved a more intense orgasm, she lay in a quandary that had persisted since that that fateful day when her lust for her son started percolating.

It happened on Monday, October 1^st four years ago. It was an “in-service day” for teachers at Arthur’s school. The thirteen-year-old had the day off and Abby allowed him to sleep in. At 1:30 am she had awakened from an erotic dream in desperate needed for sex. As usual, her hubby rarely responded kindly when she awoke him in the middle of the night for sex. But she was intent on getting Gary hard and having him fuck her to at least one self-serviced clitoral orgasm.

He was lying on his back when she reached over and felt his limp, lifeless penis. Wriggling into position she laid her head on his stomach, pulled on his flaccid member, and sucked its soft head into her mouth. Thought she had nursed him to full erection, he hadn’t awakened. Once again taking the bull by the horns she straddled his body, mopped his knob in her wet groove, centered it in her opening, and dropped on his pulsing schlong.

“Jesus honey,” Gary croaked, “Why do you have to do this when I’m sleeping,” then yawned loudly. As she rode him, he bucked weakly against her bounces. When he came and his penis begin slipping out, he said, “I have to pee,” then went to the bathroom while Abby got herself off to her first orgasm. When he got back in bed he immediately drifted back to sleep.

After their first year of marriage, sex became routine. With little romance from Gary: there was insignificant foreplay and only enough fucking to get his gun off with scarce cuddling afterward. Abby’s many orgasms were self-triggered through grinding masturbation, aided by a couple of sex toys purchased on vacation. After a while, as she gave up trying to excite her husband sex became merely fucking.

That Monday, October 1^st four years ago was another routine day in Abby’s routine life. It was washday. As she separated clothes from sheets, she noticed that one of Arthur’s sheets had numerous stains on them that reminded her of potato chips. When she realized that they were there because of Arthur’s wet dreams or masturbation she smiled and chuckled. Her body warmed as she recognized the manifestation of her son’s entrance to puberty. Her thoughts of Arthur’s wet dreams were clinical but those of him masturbating caused a different, more insistent feeling in her core.

She remembered how she discovered self-pleasure when she was going through puberty and how she began exploring the wonders of her own body. The pleasure she discovered in orgasms added richness to her life. A popular girl in school Abby remembered how boys would ogle her sometimes, standing close to her and sniffing around her as if they were male dogs. When dating she struggled with boys wanting to get into her pants.

Aunt Carole, seven years her senior, advised Abby that she could prevent some inconsiderate young “dude” from breaking her cherry by giving blowjobs, explaining “after a boy ejaculates, Abby he loses his immediate desire of penetrating you with his penis.” What Carole didn’t tell her based on her own experience, was how much she would enjoy having boys’ cocks in her mouth and how soon it would happen. I wonder what Arthur would think of me doing that, she thought at the time she was doing the laundry. Then, with a harrumphing chuckle, she said, “I wonder which girls will be sucking my boy’s cock?” SHAME ON YOU she thought after having considered, I wish it could be me.