Chapter 6

That night, though, mom's face held a distracted, worried expression that I recognized as the old boogie man, guilt. Our last session was as kinky as we'd gotten, and that must've taken its toll. She said she had a headache and would rather sleep alone.

Next morning at breakfast she was a bit distant and her eyes avoided mine. Knowing I had to do something to bring her back, I scooted my chair next to hers, took her hand, and kissed her on the cheek. She kept her face turned away, a pained, sad expression clouding its beauty. I took it in my hands, turned it towards me, and kissed her on the mouth, at first gently, just brushing her lips, and then deeper, crushing them a bit. Diana returned the kiss in a reluctant, involuntary reflex that she seemed to regret but couldn't resist. As I stroked the back of her neck, her face crumbled and she began to cry. "What are we doing?" she asked with a sob. "This is crazy."

Oh no, here we go again, I thought. Gathering up my powers of persuasion, I told her, "It'd be crazy not to do it. It's so wonderful." I held my cheek next to mom's and patted her head, trying to soothe her like she'd soothed me so many times as a child.

She turned her face away. "No! Mothers and sons just don't do this."

"We do it. We need it."

Diana shook her head and closed her eyes. "We'll be punished. Something terrible will happen."

"That's just a myth. It doesn't have to be true ... only if we make it true. We can do whatever we want. We love each other. That can't be bad." I brought her face back towards mine and kissed it more—her wet cheeks, the leaking corners of her eyes, her full, pouting lips. "Now can it?" As I encircled her firmly with my arms and drew her closer, she gave me a helpless, panicked look. I knew we were at a crisis—mom was hanging in the scales of fear vs. passion, and I needed to tilt her in the right direction and conquer her resistance once more.

I held the back of her head and kissed her mouth deeply; my tongue nudged hers, stroked it, tried to tease it into response. Finally hers licked back, at first hesitantly, but as I penetrated towards her throat hers grew wild, and they slid over and around each other like two lascivious sea creatures. My fingers delicately stroked her neck then moved down her yellow silk blouse, where they lost restraint, greedily rubbing and squeezing her soft mounded chest.

Diana clutched my hard flat chest the same way, but then broke our kiss. She sobbed and her body tensed as another wave of resistance swept over her. Through the silk I kneaded her nipples until she began to breathe slowly and deeply. All her tension seemed to flow into her nipples, making them firm and erect as the rest of her relaxed again. Vanquished, she bowed her head into the crook of my neck, and her other hand touched my thigh. We couldn't keep our hands off each other. It was an addiction.

I stood up, pulled her to her feet, and pressed myself against her. She gave a shudder that became a sigh. I stroked her round rear end through her skirt. I liked mom in skirts, liked to see her legs stirring the fabric as she walked, but the only time she wore them was when she had a trial or a meeting with a judge. This skirt was a loose velvet maxi—soft, smooth, and dark as her womb which I was yearning to re-enter. I pulled it up slowly, seeing her sleek ankles emerge into morning sunlight, then her curvy calves and luscious thighs. Her smooth bare legs were white sculpted columns tapering up from slim to squeezable. I stroked them, but I couldn't reach too far down because I didn't want to separate my chest from hers—I could feel our love flowing from heart to heart like the current in two magnets.

My fingers glided over the tops of her thighs, and mom shivered and pressed harder against me. I hitched the skirt into her belt so I could access her with both hands. Diana's legs trembled as I parted her thighs.

"I'll be late for work," she protested through her heavy breathing. "I'll be quick." But I wasn't. This was our work and it was too good to rush. I jutted one leg between hers, then cupped my hands on her buns and rotated them slowly, stretching them open then bringing them together, all the while rubbing my leg against her front. As I parted her cheeks more and rubbed harder, mom moaned and swiveled her groin into my leg. I knew I had to take her in a way that would dominate her into submission so she wouldn't keep slipping back into inhibitions. She had to admit that she was mine and stop objecting. I pulled her underpants down and rubbed her neat little nates, massaging and spreading the cushiony hemispheres. They responded happily to my touch, the white soft skin tightening and getting goose bumps. "Oh ... but we can't..." she mumbled. I didn't say anything—I knew talk could never conquer her. My fingers reached farther and delved through the moist opening at her midpoint, shielded by hair and legs but ever open. She had to accept that openness and that I was the one to fill it. I spread its lips and rubbed its inner walls and the fleshy button at the top. She mumbled again, but now it was just sound, no words.

I didn't want to risk a trek to the bedroom—she might grab her keys and briefcase and be out the door. I broke our embrace long enough to drop to my knees and pull her panties off. She lifted each foot for me, and I tossed them aside. The hem of the skirt slipped out of the belt and fell over me; it was like being inside a tent with just her lower half. The velvet blocked the light so I could see less, but held in her aroma so I could smell more. It was a scent that made me widen my nostrils and breathe deeper. I licked up her legs, getting more excited the closer I got, chafing her thighs with my teeth, then stuck my nose and tongue right into her nest. My lips sucked her lips and my nose poked her little button. Her body quivered, and she was so wet her juice ran down my face. I could hear mom's breath outside the tent like wind in the trees. I couldn't stay bent over on my knees any longer because my cock hurt too much in my pants, so I stood up.

Needing to have her right now, I tucked the skirt high into the belt again, exposing her backside, pale against the blue velvet. It looked so good that it inspired me with an idea. "Over here." I turned her facing the edge of the kitchen table, pushed aside our cups of tea and bowls of crunchy granola, then leaned her over the table.

"What's this?" Diana asked skeptically.

"Should be fun," I said, nestling up against her behind. She braced herself with her arms. I dropped my pants, and my member leaped out for her crotch. I rubbed it against her entire middle furrow, which was now awash with lubricant. I wanted urgently to be in there, so I tried to find the right spot, but it wasn't easy—I was confronted with a whole new set of angles than what I was used to.