Chapter 2: Elizabeth And Ernie-Earlier

The day was raw; it was windy and rainy, so un-summer-like. As I drove home from the office, closed for the afternoon due to a power failure, it occurred to me that it would be a beautiful day to fuck Artie in front of the fireplace.

Ernie and Ginny were out, or so I thought, an error that would open up many new vistas in my life. After shucking my raincoat, I went directly to the family room. We keep the fireplace always set up; all I had to do was to open the damper and apply the torch to the fire starter at the bottom of the pile. It was roaring quickly, and I picked up the phone.

"Hello, Artie dear, how are you?"

"I'm fine. What's up?"

"They sent us all home early and I just lit a fire. How would you like to sneak out and join me on our bearskin rug? I can make it worth your while, and I need it badly."

"Oh, shit, I've got meetings all day long. The only way they'll let me go home early is if I'm dead."

"Your loss, dear."

"I'll make it up to you tonight in bed."

"I'm soaking wet; I'll hold you to that promise."

I took off my bra, pulling it out through the sleeve of my blouse. Let me just say that my breasts are 'healthy', and the feeling of freedom when I was bra-less was delightful. Then I began to empty the dryer, sorting the clothing into piles for each of us. As I carried the pile up the Ernie's room, I heard a noise from behind his door. I gave it no thought, figuring that it was the wind.

When I pushed open the door to his room, I saw my fifteen-year old on his bed, stark naked except for his socks. His hand was between his legs, moving rapidly, the favorite sport of the healthy pubescent male. Its amazing what you can see in just a glance; a magazine lay on the bed next to him, open to a picture of a man standing in front of a naked, kneeling blonde, her smiling if somewhat whorish face impaled on a mostly visible cock, only the head hidden by her cheeks. It was probably a page from one of Artie's items of recreation reading material. I also noticed, as Ernie's hand moved away from his throbbing member, that my son was 'hung'. I hadn't seen him naked since he had been toilet trained, and I was shocked to note that he was endowed with an even thicker piece of meat than his father, whose own is pretty decent sized, take my word for it, thank you.

I began to back out of the room. "I'm sorry; I didn't realize that you were home."

"No, Mom, wait."

I could hear the sound of crying in his voice, pleading for me to stay.

"Maybe you should cover yourself up, honey."

His blush returned as he pulled a blanket over his nakedness. I placed the laundry on his dresser and sat on his bed.

"What's the matter, Ernie?"

"Am I so bad looking, Mom?"

"Of course not, son. I think you're even better looking than Ryan next door."

"Then why can't I get anywhere with girls?"

"You date, I know that."

"Yes, but I can't get past a good night kiss. I'm fifteen years old and I've never been laid."

I raised my eyebrows at the word he had never used before in my presence.

"And why wouldn't you let Dad take me out when we were in Las Vegas?"

I ignored the question. "There are a lot of fifteen year olds who've never had sex."

"Ryan has."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, he denies it, but I can tell when he's lying. He has a girl friend somewhere who's letting him fuck her, I'm sure."

"Please watch your language, Ernie."

"Sorry. But you didn't answer my question."

Now it was my turn to blush. Should I tell him the truth? What the hell, he was old enough.

"Ernie, men and boys like sex an awful lot. Sometimes they do things that they're not supposed to do."

"Like what?"

"If you must know, I was afraid that your father wasn't just going to fix you up; I thought that he might want to have sex with the woman also."

His eyes bugged out. "Has he ever done that?"

I sighed. "I don't know. But I was afraid. All you men are alike."

He laughed. "But I don't even know what to do with a girl."

"Well, I've just seen what you have down there, and once you get a girl into bed, you'll make her very happy indeed."

"Please, Mom, tell me what to do."

If I was wet before, thinking about fucking my husband in front of the fireplace and of the possibility that he might be cheating on me, this conversation had me totally soaking. This had really gone far enough. I bent to kiss Ernie on the head, in dismissal, when I saw the pleading look in his eyes. My brain exploded in confusion, thoughts jumbled and meaningless. Ernie's hand rested on my leg. My eyes closed; I was about to throw caution to the wind, and I knew it. I began to calculate how long it had been since I had first attempted to seduce Michael.

"Turn off the light, Ernie."

As he twisted to extinguish the night table lamp, I stood, lifted the blanket and slid into the bed next to my son's naked body. He inhaled but was otherwise quiet. We listened to the rain pounding on his window. In the gray darkness, I found his lips, kissing them gently but still not the way a mother should kiss.

"Touch my breasts, Ernie."

I felt a hand tentatively moving against my blouse, heading toward my mammeries. His hands were surprisingly gentle for a football player. Did that mean he was destined to be gentle with women, or was it just because I was his mother and he was afraid? A breast receded under his soft squeeze.

"Under my blouse, Ernie."

A pull on the bottom of the blouse told him that it was still tucked inside my slacks. Still in heat, I idly wondered if he would pull it out or start on the buttons. Come on, baby, make a decision. He started on the buttons; did he actually think through the idea and realize that opening the buttons, to attack me frontally, was a step in the ultimate quest, the removal of my blouse entirely.

His hands were still a bit chilly as they reached my breasts. I grabbed them to warm them up, holding them so tightly that he was unable to fondle me. Realizing that, I released them and then pulled his head toward me, aiming his mouth at a nipple. He needed no guidance there; his lips fastened on me as in the days before he learned to eat strained pears.

"I haven't felt your lips on my nipples since you were a tiny thing." His only response was a soft moan.

As I snuggled in his bed, savoring the feel of his lips sucking at my nipple and the soft caress of a hand on my other breast, I felt tears welling up in my eyes. What was I doing? This was sinful; Reverend Johnson would surely damn me to eternal hell for my conduct. And forget hell; while I was still alive, would I damn myself every waking, walking moment? I had never cheated on my husband; forget my failed attempt to seduce the Reverend. I had been in a rotten mood at the time. Artie had come home late and I didn't believe his excuses. Ernie, Ernie, we mustn't do this. I should pull his mouth off my nipple and jump out of bed. We would talk quietly; I would explain it all to him, and leave him to masturbate that beautiful piece of meat. He would have no choice; this young man wouldn't rape me, strong as he was. Maybe he would hate me for a while, but that's it. His sexual frustration with girls would someday find release, to their apparent extreme pleasure, and years from now we would smile and hug each other tightly when either of us remembered this day.

But my poor baby needed me. I was his mother, and my job was to care for his needs. Of course, that didn't include offering my vagina for his pleasure. I could stop; a woman always has the right to change her mind before and during sex. But he needed me so badly.

And my pussy was still soaking wet.

I pulled his mouth off my breast and brought it to my face. Our kiss this time was stronger, almost fierce. I forced his teeth apart with my tongue; when he realized my intent, he relaxed. The duel of tongues was restrained; more like a minuet than a sword fight.

"One of the things you have to learn, baby, is to French kiss, but you must never force your tongue into the girl's mouth like I just did. You can run your tongue along the edge of her lips, but don't push in until she opens her mouth herself."

I could feel his head nod in assent. Then I jumped off the bed.

"Where are you going, Mom?" I could hear terror in his voice.