Again Daring

The lasagna had burned.

With mum sitting across from me at the table, munching on a cheese and butter sandwich, my mind continued to whirl. And each time she looked up, it was obvious hers was also spinning. Every soft bite echoed louder than it should.

Ramifications.

Pecking order.

Mother and son. Or daughter-to-be.

And she’d been the first woman I’d fucked. She hadn’t known that. Once we’d separated, she’d sobbed. Then I’d joined in. Even after we’d showered—apart—both of us had continued to sniffle as mum attempted to salvage our blackened dinner.

So, once more in our silk kimonos, we ate in the most profound silence. At least the blubbering had ended. As I squinted through the window at the setting sun, a thought slipped into my brain. What would my brother think? When I cleared my throat, mum glanced at me.

“What”—I gulped—”um, about Stevie?” I lowered my sandwich and sighed. “What should we tell him?”

“Nothing,” left her as a soft whisper.

And all I did was nod before returning to my meal, such as it was. The silence other than quiet chewing and the occasional sip of red wine stretched for another million years.

“I’m sorry—” Her low voice quieted at the abrupt rise of my palm.

Even as she’d started speaking, the second and much more important thought had slammed into me. Pecking order! Mother or not, she was my responsibility.

Perhaps I hadn’t forced her, but I’d set the conditions. And mum had assented. Of her own free will, she’d given herself to me. Not to Lee. Nor anybody else. And the shimmer behind her hooded eyes said she’d do it again. And for as long as I’d permit her to do so. It was the same damned expression I possessed when with Lee.

Without a word, I put the sandwich on my plate and stood. My mother’s gorgeous brown eyes, ringed with tears, widened as I stepped closer. When I reached for the belt of her robe, the softest whimper slithered from her shaking lips. As I tugged it open and slid the shimmering silk from her shoulders, mum lifted her arms so I could remove it.

Once I’d folded it over my arm, I returned to the chair and lifted my wineglass. That was the longest three steps of my life. So many rules were being broken. Norms cast aside. You know, by me, the cross-dressing little slut boy dreaming of better titties. Hell, any titties at all.

“No regrets, mum.” As I held out the glass, it shook in my trembling fingers. “I want to keep you.”

Her move.

Time slowed way down. Everything but her crimson face faded to a hazy blur. And my pulse, which had been so calm even while I’d spoken, raced.

While rolling her shiny full lips, she glanced from me, to her bare chest, and then to her wineglass. Behind her bottomless pools, so many emotions sped. Also, all the questions: What had we done? What could we do? And what I’d make her do? Plus, what would she beg me to do?

At that very second, my mother could choose to end everything. Grab her robe back from me, cover herself, and walk away. We’d never speak of what had occurred. After leaving Lee to me, she’d return to her former life.

Instead, she flashed me a tight grin. Oh, there was still more than a hint of nervousness behind it. But when her shaky fingers eased towards the glass, my heartbeat became a thundering torrent. Fuck all if she didn’t lift her magnificent tits. Mum’s smile widened.

Later that night, I lay on my back in bed. I’d skipped pajamas. Even light silk was too smothering after everything earlier. And with a fist drifting along my dicklet, my mind was whirling. How and when would I explain to Lee what had happened? After getting home late, Stevie was staggering around, drunk. But soon enough, the house had quieted, and I let my eyelashes flutter closed.

At the creaking of my door, I tensed. Even as quiet footfalls moved closer over the carpet, a cloud of mum’s wildflower-scented soap and fruity shampoo wafted into my nose. At the soft squeak of my mattress and her warm naked body sliding into my side, I exhaled.

“You don’t mind, do you, Molls?” she whispered.

“No, Jules.” I skimmed a fingertip along her cheek, sweeping a shock of chestnut hair from her face. “Mmm, not at all.”

That time, as I pressed my lips to hers, there was no hesitation. Her rising moan met mine as I thrust my little tongue deep to play with hers. With her clawing across my non-chest, raking my hard tiny nips, I held mum ever tighter. As we writhed in the darkness, kissing, our moaning became more intense.

When she slid a long, toned leg over me, the world faded away. And as those fucking amazing tits and their rubbery thick nipples dragged over my slender torso, our moans united. They became an endless, much louder groan.

Shadowed by the swaying chestnut curtain, her darkened eyes gleamed. At the gentle grip around my throbbing root, I growled into her mouth. Her tongue trembled against mine as she lifted her hips.

With her in control, there was no slipping and sliding; she dropped, engulfing my slim reed in one swift plunge. God, she was so wet and warm. Her eyes blazed like chocolate fires as her pelvis rose and fell, pumping me with her supple body. All the while, she stayed tight to me with her twisting mouth rolling over mine.

It was gentle. And sensual. Unhurried and clamping as hard as she could, she eased up and down. At the very top of each slow stroke, she’d stop, gripping my tiny helmet. While working her hips around in a languid swirl, she’d stare into my eyes. She was amazing. And mine. The only things speeding were our pulses.

That time I lasted a lot longer. As I said, my mum knew how to fuck.

But at the inevitable shaking of my entire body, she lifted her mouth and smiled. As she swept her hair back with one hand, she sat up and settled atop me. The fingers of her other raked my pulsing, flat belly. With every lengthy flooding spurt, she clamped. Both her thighs against mine and her walls along my pumping shaft. That weird undulating started, drawing my essence deeper into her.

I’d never come so much in my life.

The whole time, neither of us had spoken. There’d been no frantic cries. Nothing but the slow squelching of our mated bodies and my rapid breathing.

It was surreal. And beyond sexual. Magical.

When at last I’d emptied, and my reed melted, she lowered herself to me. My arms slid around her sweat-slick back. After a quick press of her lips to mine, she glided along my cheek. As she nibbled at my ear, my cocklet oozed with a quiet splurch from her wondrous warmth. She giggled. It was the cutest sound I’d ever heard.

“Mmm, I love you, Molls,” she whispered, before nibbling at my earlobe.

“I love you too—Jules.”

After rolling my head to find her supple parting lips, her tongue darted to play once more. At some point as we kissed, blackness took me away.

In the morning she was gone, and I dressed for school. Since I was feeling sexy as fuck, I slid into pink lace panties and a rose-colored pleated micro-skirt. While my mother, my first woman, had been more than fun, flashing my little butt would melt the boys and men. A delicate Chantilly lace bra—padded of course—and a tight white tube top had me hard as a rock by the time I flounced down the stairs.

Up earlier than I’d expected, Stevie was eating cereal and had already started the coffee. On his phone, he only grunted at my “good morning,” but I still pecked at his cheek. He was fun to tease. He swatted at me, but I danced away on glossy pink pumps. They had the cutest ankle straps.

After my mother came down for breakfast, we exchanged glances over Stevie’s hunched shoulders. Her eyes widened as she scanned me.

“Oh, don’t you look pretty, Molls.” She smiled.

“Thanks, mum.” I did a little twirl. The grin on her face broadened; yeah, she had a whole new appreciation for my tight bum. “You also look grand.”

To read this story you need a Registration + Premier Membership
If you have an account, then please Log In or Register (Why register?)

Support the author's future writing by purchasing this book from Bookapy

Molly's Tales

INtrinSicliValud

$2.99