Virginia

I was at our estate about an hour outside Richmond when mom approached me with a hug and kiss. In the time since my father passed away years ago, it’s been the two of us. We have quite a few friends and even a few family members popping in from time to time. However, following my father’s passing, we’ve grown incredibly close. Probably more than should be appropriate for a mother and son.

My father, before he passed, was a successful investor and grew up in a wealthy family. He was also a very devoted husband and father. Unfortunately, cancer cares not how rich or poor you might be. It doesn’t care if you are a pristine example of philanthropy and altruism or if you are the shit stain on the whitie tighties of society. According to him, the only regret he had was not giving my mom more children. My mother neither married nor dated again.

“Honey, I have a favor to ask you.” she looked up at me with dramatically pleading and fluttering eyes.

She was wearing a white bathrobe, and I was sure she had just come from the pool. It wouldn’t be a giant leap of imagination to know she was naked underneath. Her dark Mediterranean skin contrasted nicely with the white. At 5’0”, she was over a foot shorter than me. Bathrobes are meant to be comfortable and not sexy. However, my mom can look sexy and curvy in anything she wears.

I hear what you’re saying, “You shouldn’t look at your mom that way.” I agree, but I’m not fucking blind. She could give the pope an erection. Before you dwell too much on that visualization, allow me to move on.

Mom has a way of making me want to do things for her. She is, as I’ve learned, can be very charming. However, she has a keen enough mind and imagination to make anything happen when she wants something.

I’m a big guy. A few months back, I was moderately overweight, and I learned my girlfriend was cheating on me. People deal with traumatic events like betrayal differently. I dealt with it by spending most of my waking moment’s training in martial arts and exercise. Judo, weight training, and swimming became my life when I wasn’t in college. I didn’t lose much weight but put on quite a bit of muscle and trimmed what body fat I had left. In short, I look much different than I did several months ago. My skin color is a little on the dark side, resembling my mother’s Mediterranean heritage, along with my short brown hair and brown eyes.

I wouldn’t want to lead you to believe I am sexually active with my mother. This isn’t that type of story. As I said, we grew close. However, she’s beautiful and exudes southern charm by the buckets. If I didn’t notice, I would, at best, be nuttier than squirrel shit or, at worst, dumber than a fence post.

As my fitness level improved after my breakup, so did my confidence. Mom was the conduit of my recovery. We didn’t need to find work because father left us plenty in his will.

I laughed at her playful question. “Oh ya? You already know I’m not likely to tell you no about anything.”

Her eyes twinkled a bit, then she turned and laced her arm in mine, guiding me toward one of our spare guest rooms.

“Was this going where I think it’s going?” I thought, wondering if I could be wrong about my assumptions.

“I was telling a friend about you, and the subject of your penis size came up, and well, she is more than a little curious.” Oh yes, I left that part out. She knows what I look like naked.

I stopped, and I was suddenly feeling annoyed. “You trying to get me to have sex with one of your friends? Who is she?”

She playfully slapped my arm. “Don’t be like that. Not all women are the same as your ex.”

“Oh, come on, we aren’t going to talk about this again, are we?” I looked up at the ceiling. If I were going to break down and have sex with someone, I would set my sights a little closer to home.

She cut me off. “I know, that’s not fair. Look, have I ever asked you to do anything like this before?”

“No,” I answered but still didn’t look at her.

“So, will you indulge me?” she asked a little too eagerly. She slipped her hand under my shirt and rubbed my chest.

“I feel like I’m being set up for something.” I hedged, trying to buy some time and think.

“Honey, do you trust me?” she asked

“You know I do,” I responded.

“Look at me.”

I did, and she looked at me seriously

“Say that again.” She ordered me in a very uncharacteristically dominant way.

“I trust you,” I responded

“Good! Now take this. Go in there with just your shorts on and wait. She will be in shortly.”

“What’s this?” I asked

“A blindfold,” she answered

“What?! Are you serious? Why?” I was perplexed.

“Several reasons, not the least of which is she is married. Also, she won’t be saying a word to you.”

“So, she wants to play around anonymously and not let me know who she is.”

“Basically, yes”

“Why are you doing this for her?” I asked

“I have my reasons. Just go in there, get undressed and be yourself. No matter what, don’t’ take off the blindfold.”

I growled in frustration and thought, “I hate that phrase. Be yourself. Who else could I be?”

If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t even consider saying yes. Mom just seems so adamant.

I sighed and entered the room. The guest room, compared to the rest of the house, was a bit more spartan. Essentially, just the bed, dresser, bathroom, and such. Even the artwork on the walls was Pottery Barn. Nothing special.

I removed my shirt, shoes, and socks. I’ve been wearing loose-fitting shorts that have been picked out for me recently by you know who. They didn’t bind around my bulge when I got an erection which, has been much more frequent in the past few weeks.

I put on the mask and sat down in the plush chair by the bed.

In a few moments, I heard the door open and close. I heard ruffling of what sounded of clothes being removed and placed on a nearby chair. A few moments passed, and I could tell the mystery woman was trying to gather her nerve.

In short, I could tell she was extremely nervous.

I heard her approach and stopped, I think, just outside my reach. Then I caught the scent of her perfume.

I smiled. “I’m not one to keep track of women’s perfumes, but what you’re wearing right now is my favorite.” I began.

“Tom Ford’s Lost Cherry. I’d know that scent anywhere.” I took a deep breath of the familiar scent and leaned back in the chair.

I heard nothing in response, and she didn’t come closer.

“I can only name two scents without looking. The second maybe you’ve heard of it, Davidoff Cool Water. I swear a woman who wears either of those can get me to do anything she wants.”

She finally stepped closer to me and placed her arms on my shoulders with me sitting in front of her. Her hands were trembling with nerves.

In response, I lifted my hands to her waist, which was trim and tight. Slowly, I moved them down her sides to her legs. Her legs, similarly, were petite, and it was clear she was in excellent shape. The firm legs were encased in a pair of silky thigh-high stockings. The mystery woman was thin but physically fit.

Continuing my exploration, I slid my hands up her back, and she pressed herself into me. Her breasts, considering her thin frame, were somewhat large for her size. Probably a large B or C. She was tall too for a woman, nearly six feet.

When her breasts touched my face, I could feel her nipples harden against me. I pressed into her back so I could kiss the center of her chest around the breasts.

When my hands reached her upper back, I realized how long her hair was. It hung down to the bottom of her shoulder blades.

“I can tell by how much you’re shaking that you are more than a little nervous. If you don’t want to do this or are being coerced, we can stop this right now. Please, I have no interest in taking advantage,”

She cut me off with her fingers to my lips. Once I stopped talking, she placed her palms on my cheeks and tentatively kissed me on the lips. She leaned her forehead against mine before tilting her chin forward for another slow kiss.

“This woman was a romantic. No way is this just about sex. That was a very tender kiss.” I thought.

Our slow, tender kisses tapered slightly, and I kissed my way down her jawline to her neck. When I tucked my face into her neck, I gave her a gentle nibble. A soft moan escaped her. It was the first noise she made. Wrapping my arms around her, I leaned back, so she fell on top of me.

She caught herself on the back of my chair, and my mouth found the spot on her neck just below the ear.

She gasped when I kissed my way up to her earlobe. I took it into my mouth and gently bit down. Biting it hard enough to generate a tiny squeak, she pulled away slightly.

When she did, I reached up to her face. In a move mirroring her own, I placed my hands on her cheeks and kissed her. I leaned my forehead against hers then kissed her again. The only difference is I brushed my thumbs across her cheeks. Her face was also somewhat thin with full lips. When I did, I knew exactly who it was.

The woman’s name was Anya, an East Indian beauty and a friend of my mom’s. Interestingly, she was closer to my age than my mom’s. They held a similar passion for horses, and Anya was my crush for as long as I can remember. She was a famous actress in Bollywood and traveled back and forth between our two countries. Anya was married to a complete fucking shitswizzler of a husband, Sanjay. He married Anya when she was 19 years old. Like my father, before he passed, Anya’s husband was also rich. Her husband came to our estate one time but made himself such a snobbish ass that my mom dissuaded him from joining Anya again. My mom met Anya at an equestrian event outside Richmond and invited her back to our house for drinks and a ride.

When I saw Anya for the first time, I was almost sixteen. The ladies were dressed similarly in beige riding breeches with a white shirt and black riding boots. They were coming back from a ride around the property when I saw her. The expression on Anya’s was one of delight. Her smile radiated and lit up the deepest darkest corner of my soul. Her very presence lit me up in a way I can only describe as heaven-sent. Even a Virginia sunrise paled in comparison. It took several long moments before I could look away but not before they both caught me staring at the beauty.

“Who’s this handsome young man?” Anya greeted me politely.

“Anya, this is my son, Isiah.”

We shook hands in greeting, and when she turned that warm smile to me for the first time, I knew I was in trouble.

My mind snapped back to the present, and I was still blindfolded. My thumbs brushed across Anya’s cheeks. She took my hands then kissed my palms before placing them on her breasts.

Knowing who this was, I was already three-quarters into an erection. Feeling her nipples harden prominently under my hands had me harder than a diamond baseball bat.

Kissing, as it turns out, was a significant turn-on for her. Her body quivered even more. I could feel the nervous energy in her body as a mix of sexual tension and nerves. My erection was finally in full swing inside my shorts, and it pressed up against her from underneath.

When her groin contacted the shaft of my erection, she pressed into me harder then started to slide against me. Her quick, nervous energy only fueled to make her movements that much more insistent. I could tell it wouldn’t take much for her to orgasm. She was very sensitive, I realized, on a hair-trigger.

It occurred to me sliding herself against my shorts must have been uncomfortable or will be very soon. Letting go of her breasts, then tapping her legs so I could lift my hips to indicate I would remove my shorts.

She stepped back, but her hand lingered and caressed my shoulder.

When my cock sprang free in its fullness, I could hear her gasp in surprise.

Both of her hands reached down to wrap the length of my enormous erection. She stroked up and down in what wasn’t a very smooth rhythm and started a bit fast. She was more eager than experienced, I realized. I didn’t care in the least. It still felt good, and despite her lack of experience, it wouldn’t take much to make me explode. Knowing who was doing this was enough to stoke my sexual fire into a raging inferno.

“If you are trying to make me cum quickly, then keep going,” I informed her

In response, she only jacked her hands up and down faster. The only difference is she locked her mouth around my large head, which was enough to make me explode then and there. The intensity of my first orgasm surprised me.

She never broke contact with the head of my dick and gulped as much as she could before she finally gasped. She was breathing heavily with the fast pace she was setting. I hoped she wouldn’t burn out too quickly. I had no intention of making this quick.

My quick orgasm had the effect of taking a little of my sexual edge off. She furiously licked and sucked at the shaft even after I came. I’m not sure I could take her insistent sucking so quickly after I came. I needed to redirect her a little.

“Come up here and kiss me,” I ordered, taking her hands.

She hesitated, and I wondered why. Then I realized she wouldn’t want it so soon after cumming in her mouth. “There is a glass of water on the end stand to your left.”

She must have tried to reach it with one hand and still held on to my dick with the other. I resisted the grin. She finally let go just long enough to grab the glass and put her free hand back on me. She took a mouthful of water then placed it back on the end stand.

When she rinsed her mouth, she finally kissed me again. This time it was less romantic and filled with much more lust.

In my mind’s eye, I can vividly recall her beautiful features. I remembered her flawless skin, which is several shades darker than mine. Her bright heavenly smile filled me with delight. I hadn’t seen her since before I went to college. Details of her sprung to my mind unbidden. For as long as we’ve known each other, nothing would have led me to believe we would have anything other than a platonic relationship.

Anya liked to ride when she visited. Mom encouraged me to take Anya down the trails of our property. Our courses were set up with obstacles and could be ridden fast, slow, or have jumps. She preferred to ride a chestnut mare by the name of Diva, and I rode a light bay stallion by the name of Marcus. Her riding was a little rough. However, with a bit of coaching, she improved drastically. Even more so because she developed a close bond with Diva and had an intuitive sense of her capabilities, it was during these rides she became very open and less guarded. She shared her culture and language, and in return, I shared also. My attempt to learn Hindi turned out to be an abysmal failure, but the effort delighted her to no end. Upon our return, she would flirt with me a little to my absolute delight. She would gentry reproach me if I became too aggressively flirtatious in return. The first time she initiated contact was when I brought her a cup of tea after a ride. She was very picky about her tea, and outside riding horses, it was another passion. I made a mental note to prepare it precisely as desired without being told how. I brought both cups of tea poolside, and when she saw them, she burst out in a laugh.

“Look at you! That is so sweet!” Then swept me up in a hug and subsequently a kiss on the cheek, nearly spilling the drinks. She pulled away and stared at me with a thoughtful expression. “Why do you do this? You act like a servant to me sometimes.”

I was reeling from her physical contact, and it took me a moment to pretend nonchalance. Shrugging, I said, “You’re our guest. Mom insists our guests be treated well. It’s the way things are around here.” Yea, even to my ears, that sounded like complete bullshit.

“Your mom did an outstanding job raising you without a father around. You’re nothing like Sanjay.”

The name of her husband sobered her up. A pained expression crossed her perfect features. “You are going to make some lucky girl very happy.”

“I prefer making just you happy.” She looked at me with pity before uttering the statement that always felt like a stab in the chest.

“Isiah, you know I’m married.”

Returning to the present, she had one hand behind my head and the other stroking my cock. Her breathing was labored but steady. Lifting one leg, she placed a leg on one side of my hips, followed by the other. Straddling me, the shaft of my cock pressed against the folds of her smooth pussy.

The frustrating part of my memory is I knew what she looked like with clothes on. However, I never had the exquisite pleasure of seeing this goddess without clothes. Resisting the urge to rip off this tiny strip of cloth called a blindfold was killing me.