The morning after, it takes me a while to gather and restart the brains I got fucked out of me. Was it all a dream? No. With consciousness also returns clarity. The evidence is within and without. My hips are sore, I can barely feel my legs, and finally there is Erik, upon whom I am currently pressed with the full weight of my plumpness.
In the... heat of the moment, I forgot to turn on the AC. My skin and sheets are soaked in sweat. The room feels like an oven, an oven where a whole lot of mad love has been cooking all night long.
Mad. Yes, that sounds just right. Now that my ungodly urges have been fully satisfied by sinking my teeth in the juiciest, ripiest, and most forbidden of fruits, guilt finally strikes back. Erik, my beautiful boy, what have I done to you?
He sleeps seraphically, half a smile still on his lips, those same lips that set my skin ablaze but a few hours ago. I prop myself up and watch him. I watch his chest going up and down, watch his fingers still somehow reaching for me. The memory of his hands running along my hips, squeezing my butt, cupping my breasts, pinching my nipples, caressing the inside of my thighs and daring between my labia, burns. Now, that is the kind of fire that heats the body and consumes the soul.
What the hell am I gonna do now?
Should I just get on with it as if nothing happened? Or maybe I should wake up Erik with a caress? Maybe a kiss? Maybe a nice morning blowjob. How long since I gave one of those. He would deserve it. Nobody deserves it more than my sweet boy.
I pull down the sheet and stare at his resting sex. The sight reminds me how it made me feel last night and kindles a fire I thought contained, but still burns beneath the ashes.
I better get up from bed, or--swear to God--neither of us is leaving this room again.
I go through the motions of waking up completely on autopilot. I walk to the bathroom, wash my face and teeth, apply my cream, and brush my hair. All the while, my mind is playing again and again flashbacks of the night before. I do not know my own heart. Half of me wants to scream, but the other half wants to dance.
What I have done is unforgivable, monstrous, and so very selfish. Then again, my victim did not exactly put up much of a fight. Enough! I need to get these thoughts out of my head for a moment. I'll just go downstairs and ready some breakfast. Or maybe lunch. Judging from the light outside, I'd wager we are far closer to noon than dawn.
I storm into the kitchen and don my apron. I just can't allow myself to think. So I keep my hands busy and my brain blank. The air fills with bacon and cinnamon, fruit juice drips down my wrists, and I slice avocado like I'm prepping for war. Three kinds of toast, a mountain of pancakes, eggs fluffed within an inch of their lives. Butter melts in delicate curls beside warm croissants I don't even remember buying. I could prepare a couple of mimosas--I still have that bottle of prosecco stashed beneath the sink. Wouldn't that be continental of me?
No. No more drinks. You are not giving yourself another excuse for fucking Erik again, you unqualifiable, unredeemable slut.
"Morning, Mom."
Erik kisses my collarbone, and I yelp.
"Honey," I hold onto my chest, afraid my heart might somehow escape it. "You starled me."
"I can be very sneaky." He places his hands firmly on my hips, pulling me in and placing his next kiss on my neck.
"Honey, stop," I beg of him, and am ignored. God, I spent the whole night scratching, yet I feel the itch coming back already, with a vengeance. "I will burn your breakfast."
"I thought I smelled something delicious." He finally relents. "Wow, you cooked for a small army."
"I thought you might've been hungry after... You know."
"Oh yeah, I'm starving!"
He lets me sit him down and pour him some orange juice. As I do so, his eyes fall to my chest, which the apron conceals partially and poorly. My own gaze drops down to his crotch. He put on a pair of boxers, but I can still see his cock resting beneath the cotton. Damn, that beast made me cum. Just thinking about it makes my legs feel weak.
"Um, Mom?"
I manage to take my eyes off my son's bulge and realize I just dumped half a quart of juice into a glass half as big.
"Oh, Jesus!" I grab the paper towel and chase after the rogue liquid. Plenty of it drips down, right onto his underpants. "I'm so sorry."
Without putting much thought into it, I grab another paper towel and press it to the damp spot in his underwear, trying to squeeze out as much as I can. Only when I see my son smiling from ear to ear do I come to my senses.
"You sure don't waste any time!" He chuckles.
"Idiot," I say, to him or myself.
We sit down to eat, and he digs in with flattering appetite. He compliments my cocking with his mouth full.
"Don't talk while you chew," I scold him. "And elbows off the table. God, I grew up a savage."
"Are we really still doing this?" he asks me, incredulous, amused, and vaguely aroused.
"Damn right, we are," I lecture him. "I am still your mother, and that is still my job." No matter how hard you made me cum.
"Sorry, Mom."
His contrition does not sound very convincing. Probably because of the snickering. I knew this would happen! How can I possibly be the authoritative figure he needs after I let him fuck my brains out and did so very little to hide how much I liked it?
"You okay, Mom?" he asks me.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay," I lie.
"Aren't you hungry?"
"Oh, I..." Get it together, Claire! "I was wondering what you would like to do today?" I force myself to smile. "Got anything planned?"
"What kind of idiot question is that?" He laughs. "I want to spend the whole day with you." He looks at me and does not find the enthusiasm he is looking for. "Did you have anything planned?"
"Me?" I laugh, resting my head in my hands, elbows planted firmly on the table. "I don't know. I can't think. I don't know anything anymore."
"Yeah, I get it." He sighs. "You got regrets?"
I look inside myself and do find some regrets, but not nearly in the appropriate amount. I am ashamed by my lack of shame.
"Don't think of me, hon." I lay my hand on his. "Do you have any regrets?"
"Not one ounce." He chuckles, briefly. "I'm only afraid that you do."
"What happened is," absurd, insane, monstrous? "unusual."
"But was it bad?"
How the hell can I answer that? Am I the only one who realizes how apocalyptically wrong that was? He is either completely oblivious or just doesn't give a fuck.
"It was the best fuck of my life," I confess. This time, my smile is not forced. "You tempted me and I couldn't resist."
"Well, you tempted me first," he deflects.
"What are you talking about? How?"
"You know," he points at me. "By being you, all of you."
"Oh, please!" I escape his famelic gaze. "I'm an old crone and you are," a young stud with a magnificent cock. "a young man with his whole life ahead of him."
"You are hot as fuck." His compliment oozes exasperation.
"Stop saying that," I hide my face in my hands.
"Mom, for real, look." He tugs his underpants down and shows me his cock, hard as a rock and glazed with precum. "Look at how hard you are making me."
I am just about to tell him to put it away and to stop this madness, but how can I, when my fingers have already locked around his shaft and my palm is already going up and down along it?
"Honey, you can't show your mom that beautiful, hard cock of yours like that." I press my thumb onto his urethra and squeeze out all the precum still accumulated within. "How can she possibly resist?" I lube my palm with it.
It seems my scruples are gone again, and it will take a while before they come back to haunt me. Meanwhile, I will enjoy the sensation of this thick, throbbing rod in my hand. It is so hard, so veiny, and so very responsive to my touch. He leans back on the chair, offering me better access to it. I shift my gaze between it and him. It is both alarming and comforting that he appears to be as enthralled as I am.
"Does it feel good, hon?" I ask him, more out of vanity than anything else.
"It's fucking peak, Mom!" he says. "Even if..."
"What, dear?"
"Last night you promised to use your tits, remember?"
"Oh!" I do remember. How could I forget such a thing? Some mother, I am.
I undo my apron and let my girls come out to play. They are not as firm as they used to be when I was his age, but they still stand up mostly on their own. The face Erik makes when I pull them out gives me plenty of reasons to be confident.
"Do you like Mom's titties, hon?" I ask while lubing them up with precum.
"They are the fucking best, Mom." He bites his lower lip. "They are big, and soft, and super fun to play with."
"You are so sweet," I say, with only partial sarcasm.
My girls are well-lubed up, I think. It's been a while since I did anything of the sort. I hope this does it for him. I hold my boobies up with my left forearm, while pulling his cock in between them with my right hand. I patiently envelop his manliness in plump femininity. Fortunately, my titties have also gotten softer and bigger with the years--and pounds. His remarkable log disappears between my pillows, save for its head, which pokes out as if asking me for a kiss. I grant it.
"Are you comfortable, hon?" I ask him.
"I'm seventh heaven, Mom."
"It's been a while since I did this." I smile at him and firmly squeeze my boobs around his cock. "Let's see if I remember how it's done."
Judging by his reaction, it seems I do. He holds on to the chair with both hands and bucks up to better meet my thiccness. Does it really feel that good? I smile, a little too pleased with myself.
I start at a low pace, careful not to brush against his glans with dry skin. I push up and against him, then pull down, squeezing hard, making sure his throbbing cock does not escape my sensual hold.
"Like it so far, hon?"
"Do you even need to ask?" He lets out a trembling chuckle.
With my confidence properly boosted, I decide to pick up the pace. I seem to be doing better than expected. He rolls his eyes and clenches his teeth into the silliest smile. Now, that is how you compliment a woman.
"You really do like Mommy's boobies," I prattle.
"Fuck yeah, I do!"
"What feels better?" I tease him. "Mommy's tits or Mommy's mouth?"
"Jesus Christ, Mom." Is he holding in his orgasm? He'd better not! "Why do you ask me these impossible questions?"
"Can't decide?" I giggle. "Don't worry, hon. You won't need to." I squeeze him upward and envelop the head of his cock with my lips.
He suffocates a fuck as I, ironically, milk him with my boobs. God, I love his taste. I never disliked cock in general, but this is something else. That salty nectar of his is intoxicating. It's a fucking drug, and I need my fix! I bring my tits down, easing the pressure as I reach the base of his cock; then, I squeeze him hard while going back up and simultaneously take more of him in my mouth. He rewards my effort with several drops of delicious precum, which I down without even thinking about it. He is fucking loving this, and so am I, even if it is putting quite the strain on my upper back.
"Are you close, honey?" I ask him, picking up the pace even further. "You are not holding back, are you?"
"I f-fucking want to enjoy this a little bit more," he stutters. "You are too fucking good at this."
"We need to do something about that potty mouth of yours," I scold him. "Now, what would you like more? Do you want to cum in Mommy's mouth or... do you prefer giving her a pearl necklace?"
"A p-pearl necklace?" He looks genuinely confused. "Oh!"
"You really didn't know what that was?" I find that hard to believe... Then again, maybe they don't use that expression anymore.
"Oh yeah, I wanna do that," he huffs. "Gonna give you the biggest, heaviest fucking pearl necklace you ever wore."
I must say, I am a little disappointed with his choice. I was looking forward to having him fill my mouth again and look at him in his eyes as I gulp down his cum. But even more than all that, I wanna make him happy.
"All right, but no holding back, okay?" I wink at him, and he nods.
I press my tits together and go up and down with long, slick motions. His cock, hard as marble and hot as lava, throbs and quakes. I press against it as much of myself as I can and, to my greatest joy, it erupts with warmth and love.
He shoots rope of cum after rope of cum, hitting my neck and cleavage. He covers my skin in seed, which soon begins dripping down towards my standing nipples. I pull my breasts up and lick them clean like a pussycat. God, there is so much of it. I thought I had emptied his balls good last night. I was wrong. Either that or his balls fill up faster than I can empty them. I... will have to do this often, I hope.
"Jesus, Mom." He pants. "That was fantastic."
"Glad you liked it." I struggle to hide how much I enjoyed this myself, despite my protesting spine.
"You are so fucking beautiful." He caresses my cheek. "Those pearls suit you well."
"Maybe I should wear them next time I go to the office." I tease him.
"Will it last that much?"
I can't tell whether he is joking or not. Either way, I shrug.
"You can always make me another one in the morning, right?"
"I can make you another one right now."
He pulls me back towards him, but I escape his grasp.
"Uh-huh. First, you must finish breakfast." I stand up and grab half a dozen paper towels. "And I must shower."
"Hey, wait!" He seizes me by the hips and pulls me back. There is no escaping him, this time. "Aren't you forgetting something?"
"What, hon?"
"You promised I could eat this, remember?"
He pulls down my apron, rather unceremoniously, I might add. Then, he parts my labia with his fingers and goes in deep.
"Ahn!" I yelp.
"You are so fucking wet."
Yeah, and whose fault is that? I pull out his fingers in scolding fashion.
"You need to be a little more considerate, honey. Mommy's pussy is delicate."
"Sorry, Mom."
"What am I gonna do with you?" I sigh. "First, finish your breakfast. Then, if you are still hungry, you can eat my pussy. Okay, hon?"
"Okay..." he gives up.
With a sigh of relief, I can finally go upstairs.
"Mom," he calls, and I turn. "I love it when you talk dirty to me."
I have no idea why, but this one little comment flusters me like he just paid me the best possible compliment. I hurry upstairs before he notices how hard I am blushing.
Minutes later, I am alone in the shower, rinsing my cum-glazed skin. After a torrid evening, an even more torrid night, and a heated wake-up to boot, I am drenched in sweat and so much more than sweat. If only water could wash off guilt. I am not eager to face my own thoughts, but what else can I do, trapped here in my head? I might as well get on with it.
Claire, you fucked your son, and you liked it a lot. Right now, you should be going crazy, like some incestuous, less murdery Lady Macbeth. Instead, you are humming under the running water like you just lost your virginity to some celebrity up in Hollywood. Can you, for the sake of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, explain how and why that is?
You have mixed feelings about this, I'll grant you that much. Problem is, they should not be mixed at all! So, let us set aside the obvious atrocious and amoral factor in the equation--which you shouldn't, because it is--and focus on the part that actually convinced you to go on with this. Erik is fantastic, both inside and outside the bedroom. I was really afraid he would not know what he was doing, but--Jesus Christ, was I wrong! He's capable, considerate, he's got the stamina of a fucking bull! A couple of months of this and he will be the best lover I've ever had. Fucking hell, I am already thinking months ahead now.
There is also the... nonphysical component. We always got along fine; more than most moms and sons do, dare I say. Even as a teenager with all his pesky hormones, he was always sweet to his mom. Now that he is fully grown, he has truly turned into a fine man, one that any girl would be lucky to have. Only he does not want any girl. He wants a woman. He wants you, Claire. That... turns my brain off, and everything else on.
I am sure that, sooner or later, my conscience will catch up with me. Sooner or later, life will present me with the bill, and I will have to pay. But you know what? Fine. I will pay my dues when the time comes. Right now, all I can think about is going as far as I possibly can.
I remember the face Erik made as he was shooting rope after rope of cum all over me. He is enjoying this as much as I am, and I intend to do so much worse for him. First and foremost, I will teach him how to eat me up properly. And he'd better like it, because he's going to do it a lot. Come to think of it? What if he doesn't like it?
He told me he had no problem licking Mindy, but--Let's face it, Claire, you are not Mindy. Your muffin is not exactly fresh out of the oven, and you have done little to make it more presentable. Mmm... is it too late for some last-minute preparation? I mean, Erik's waiting. Then again, he seems as fixated with me as I am with him. I can keep him on edge for a while longer.
I return to the bedroom and only now realize how much it reeks with the smell of incest and sin. Erik is scrolling on his phone, but tosses it away the moment he sees me striding in in my bathrobe.
"I was starting to lose hope," he snickers.
"Good things take time, Erik," I remind him.
He is no less impatient because of it, as I find out as soon as I am in reach. He snatches me like an octopus and wraps his tentacles all over me. He opens my robe wide and lets my girls out to play with. He gets behind me and firmly grabs both my tits from below. He squeezes firmly, almost violently, and is just barely a little gentler with the nipples. I should tell him to take it easy, to slow down, but how can I, when my breasts rejoice beneath his fingers? All I can do is return his smile and quietly invite him to do more, to do worse, to do everything he wants to me.
Erik kisses my lips, so eager to be kissed, and intertwines his tongue with mine, so eager to be tasted. Every bit of me is starving for more love, his love. He lets go of my tit with a hand and goes down to my knee. From there, he climbs upwards, playing it cool but clearly in a hurry. I gently open my thighs and welcome his fingers in between them. Eventually, he reaches my pussy, and breaks the kiss.
"What the...?" He spreads my legs wide.
He looks between my legs, mesmerized, and I let out a nervous laugh. I was never especially proud of my pussy, especially after giving birth. My labia has swollen up, and everything is just so... out there. That could be the main reason I gave up on shaving it, aside from dear old laziness that is.
"I thought it would have been easier to eat with some proper grooming," I conceal my uncertainty with humor. "Do you like it?"
"Like it?" He unceremoniously shoves two fingers up my vagina while diving back on my nipple with his mouth. It's a good thing I am already soaking wet; otherwise, this would hurt like hell.
"I fucking love it!" he says. "Did you do this just now? Just for me?"
"Yes," I giggle. "I am sorry to have kept you waiting. I just thought you would've liked it, and so I took some extra time."
"Totally fucking worth it."
He pulls me out of my robe and tosses it aside. He takes a long moment to enjoy the sight of my naked body, and the look in his eyes fills me with relief and newfound confidence. He lowers himself between my well-spread thighs and studies my pussy like it was the most precious jewel or the most tasty dessert. He gives it a loving kiss, making my whole body tingle. I hope he does not mean to tease me, or I will smother him with my thighs.
"Mom, I gotta ask you a favour."
What? Fucking now? "S-sure thing, hon. What is it?"
"I really wanna do this right, you know? I want you to feel good."
Ah, so there is a bit of uncertainty behind all the bravado. My boy is still a boy after all. What an adorable stud I've found myself.
"Me too, honey." I caress his cheek. "I also want you to feel good when you are with Mommy."
"No, what I mean is..." He struggles to find the right words. "I want to be able to make you cum hard, at any time. I want to be always ready for you. I'm not sure I'm being clear."
I believe he is. He wants to get to know me through and through. He wants to learn how to give me the maximum pleasure with the minimum effort. He wants to be the best for me, and therefore irreplaceable.
"I get it, hon." I caress him more. "Mommy will teach you how to lick her good."
"Promise me we'll get to the end?"
Well, I certainly fucking hope so. "Yes, honey. I promise."
"Okay, then." He kisses my hand and parts my thighs some more. "Here goes."
I brace myself for what promises to be something intense. I spread my thighs wide, close my eyes, and bite my lower lip. Lick your mommy, Erik. Give her all you got.
He takes his time, as he should, a tad too much perhaps. He kisses and licks the inside of my thighs until they are all slick with saliva. He probably wants to turn me on, but I am already up to eleven. No need for any more foreplay, hon. Mommy is all wet and ready for you. Come here and eat her. Yes, just like that.
He gives me a few long licks that go from just above my butthole all the way up to my clitoris. One thing's certain, he is now fully aware of how wet I was for him. He is probably smirking right now, the little rascal.
"How's that, Mom?"
"A good start, Son." So don't fucking stop! "You can keep going."
He begins licking me in earnest, bless him. And it is good. His tongue laps over me, long, strong, and loving. Horny as I am, he could probably just blow on my clit like a candle and bring me somewhat closer to cumming. Mmm, he is finally done taking care of my labia and climbing up to my clit. Here it goes.
This is fantastic... at first. But soon the sensation becomes less so. I think Erik, bless his heart, might have done his homework on the wrong corners of the internet. It feels like his tongue is scribbling down the alphabet on my pussy. Do they still recommend that? I feel a strong stimulation when he gets to the k, but lose him again at the i. Then he switches gears entirely, darting this way and that. It doesn't feel bad, not at all. The way he goes at it, it is sweet. It is also scattered. Did Mindy really endure fifty-plus minutes of this? Jesus, no wonder she was not in the mood to blow him after that.
"Is this good to you, Mom?"
"I-it's great, hon!" I really should not lie to him like that, but how can I speak harsh truths to those puppy eyes? "I think I am ready for more."
"Hell, yeah! Sure thing."
Okay, now he gets bold. He goes rougher, faster, too fast! My hips twitch for the wrong reasons. He misreads that and tries to keep me in place. I laugh under my breath, flustered and fond. His devotion makes up for the lack of finesse. Almost.
"Honey, that's too much," I say, and instantly feel guilty about it. "Mommy's clit is very sensitive. You need to slow down, just a bit."
"Sorry!" He chuckles. "I got carried away." And to tease my heart along with my clit he adds: "You taste so good, Mom."
He resumes, slower. His tongue finds my clit and presses on it. There it is! That's exactly what Mommy needs. Yes, yes!--Oh no. No, no, no! That's too much. He is pinning my clit down, and instead of a spark, it's this sharp, jolting sting. I close my thighs around his head, not in pleasure but in self-defense. I don't want to push him away, but damn, he's mashing me like I'm made of buttons instead of nerves. Oh, God. He is digging his way through my plumpness to give me another lick.
"Honey, stop!"
Erik pulls back and looks at me as if I just slapped him.
"Did I do it wrong?"
"Erik..." I hurry up to cup his beautiful, sad face. "Tell me the truth, where did you learn to do this?"
"Well... I think the post was named A Lesbian's Guide to Cunnilingus."
"Uh-huh." I can already imagine what sort of stuff was on it. Nothing written by a woman, let alone a lesbian. "You don't need these tricks to please a woman, hon. What you need is hard work, some patience, and carefully listening to her."
"Was it really that bad?"
"It wasn't terrible but..." I can't help but laugh at the mere fact that we are having this conversation.
"Jesus, you are merciless!" He divides his resentment between me and himself.
"Honey, come here." I embrace him. "Tell me, who am I?"
"My mom?"
"And?" I tease him.
"My girlfriend?"
"That's right?" I give him a reassuring kiss, trying to ignore my own taste on his lips. "What's the point of having your mom as your girlfriend if you don't let her teach you how to fuck? You do want to learn, right?"
"Not just fucking in general." He kisses me back. "I want to learn how to fuck you specifically."
"And lick me?" I press his cheeks to force his tongue out. Bet you didn't know your mom could be such a cougar. Eh, Erik? "You want to know how to lick Mommy so she grows totally addicted to your tongue and not just your dick, right? Right?"
"Right." He massages my thigh. "I want you to be horny for me just like I am for you.
Oh, honey. Mommy already is. God help her.
"Okay, hon." I boop his nose. "Since you already know how to fuck Mommy's brains out, how about you let her guide you through this one thing?"
He chuckles. "Okay."
"I'm serious, young man." Or at least as serious as one can be doing something like this. "I know how proud you can be. This is not the moment for it. You do what Mommy says. No more, no less. Clear?"
"Crystal Clear, Ma'am."
"Good." I lay back and spread wide again. "Now give me back that wet tongue of yours."
He settles back between my thighs, and I can feel how badly he wants to prove himself. He kisses my pussy, reaching deep inside of it. Not the worst start. In fact, I think I will hold him in place just a little longer. I sink my fingers in his hair and keep him pressed onto me, kissing him back with my pussy. I keep him there until I feel him gasping for air.
"Ready to start in earnest?" I ask him, and he nods. "Perfect. Now, let me guide you through this."
I accompany his head back down. "Right here," I murmur, guiding him to my clit. His tongue finds that soft, swollen spot. The first touch makes me shiver. "Slow and steady, hon. Slow and steady. Yes... just like that."
Some men just think they know better, relying solely on their mental map and never asking for directions. Then, they blame you when they inevitably get lost. Erik, on the contrary, listens, and thank God for that.
He begins tracing little circles with a clumsy kind of devotion, but that is plenty to send those joyful jolts through me. He feels that and becomes eager, of course. He begins flicking faster. When he does that, I press his head down and he steadies again, finally settling on the rhythm Mommy needs.
"That's very good, hon," I say, with my hands in his hair and my calves embracing him. "Now, keep going."
I am finally relaxing, and clearly he feels that. His tongue now flickers with confidence and a sense of triumph. He goes slow and heavy over me, then curls just right at the tip. Every moan I let out boosts his morale and momentum. His hands grip my thighs from below, hard. I'll have loving marks to remind me of this moment for some time. He is getting me closer to the edge, so much so that I can't help rolling my hips against his mouth.
Some guys I have been with didn't like it when I did that, always needing to be in total control. Erik doesn't mind, though. If anything, that riles him up even more. He holds me there, tongue buried, lips sucking, letting me use him until the pressure swells sharp and unbearable.
"T-that's it, honey! Almost...there... Mommy is cumming!"
He does not let that distract him, bless his heart. He keeps going steady, despite all the quaking, the quivering, and me nearly smothering him with all the strength I have in the lower half of my body.
I roll over the edge, and it is messy. My thighs clamp around his face, and I let out a scream that I fear might reach the neighbours. My whole body jerks and releases a flood into my poor boy's mouth. Still, he persists. He drinks me like he was parched for it, licking every last quiver out of me until I collapse back, melting into a sweaty, soaked and shaky mess of a mom. Fuck me, I'll need another shower.
I relax my legs and let go of his face, but he won't let go of me. He sinks his fingers into my thighs and frenches my pussy. I am so sensitive, he makes me jump up.
"Easy there!" I giggle, but he won't listen. He keeps tasting me until he has had his fill and emerges from between my legs with a drenched smirk.
"Better?" he asks.
"Way better," I return. "I didn't make you work too hard for it, I hope."
"Can't say it was easy, but--Holy moly, was it a turn on when you gushed like that."
"I did not hurt your neck, did I?"
"My neck?" He massages the back of his head. "No way! If anything, I would not mind if you squeezed me a little harder next time."
I feel a jolt of excitement when he says next time.
"For real?" I ask, just to keep him talking.
"Oh, yeah. When you... squeezed me in like that and grinded on my face, that was... I don't know, but seriously, I nearly jizzed my underpants."
He shows me the tent he has been pitching. I caress it delicately, and it throbs in my hand. A few droplets of precum make their way out of the stretched-out fabric.
"Oh, honey. I can't leave you like this." We share a stupid smile. "Would you like Mommy to return the favour?"
"Actually, Mom, would it be okay if I... you know, put it in you?"
God, his eagerness is touching! And contagious.
"That's fine by me, dear. But we only have one condom left, remember?"
"Oh, yeah." His lapse of memory is the opposite of convincing. "Maybe we could...?"
Of course, here we go. I have danced to this song already. I heard all the notes, I know all the steps.
"Tell the truth, honey." I embrace him. "Have you ever had unprotected sex with anyone?"
"Not really," he admits.
"And you would like to try."
"I would like to know what it feels like. From what I've heard, it's tons better than with a condom. For him and for her."
Is he trying to tempt me? I would very much like to say that it's not working.
"It is somewhat more intense, with the additional friction, the sloppiness, the sheer pleasure of having nothing in between you and your loved one--" I would make a terrible attorney. "Buuut, do you know what's the most important thing during sex?"
He raises an eyebrow. "I hope you are not going to say safety."
"Well, too bad!" I make him laugh so hard he almost rolls off the bed. "I am serious, Erik. When you have sex, you want to be safe and relaxed."
"But what about the thrill?" He teases me further. "Doesn't the risk make it even more intense?"
"Young man, you being you is thrilling enough. In fact, that's enough thrill for five heart attacks!"
Look at him chuckling. God, does he love fucking with me.
I stare at him, unamused. Which of course makes him come to me, begging for cuddles. I manage to play hard to get for almost five whole seconds.
"I do want you to feel safe with me, Mom," he says between kisses. God, I gotta get back on birth control.
"Listen here, hon." I return his kisses. "If you get the condom and promise to put it on before starting in earnest, I'll let you try what it feels like."
"For realz?!"
"Just for a minute!" I remind both of us. "And no funny business. When I say out, you get out. Got it?"
"One hundred per cent!"
He pulls the last condom out of the box and sets it on the bedside table. Just having it within reach makes me feel that little bit more at ease. He then gets out of his boxers, and I get rid of my bathrobe, which I believe is soaked enough with bodily fluids as it is.
I lay on my back and beckon my beautiful boy to take place between my breasts. I squeeze with my arms as he struggles to aim his cock at my pussy without the aid of his hand. I am just about to offer him mine when his throbbing glans finally finds its way through my labia and up my drenched pussy. He kisses my lips exactly when his cock kisses my cervix.
"How is it?" I ask him with a rope of saliva still connecting my mouth to his.
"Just unreal," he answers, incredulous and moved. "Never thought it could feel this good. I mean, I knew it would be fun but... wow."
"You like Mommy's pussy?" I try to clench around him. I am not sure he is feeling it, but I hope he does. "You like the way it squeezes you?"
"I like how you talk to me," he surprises me. "You make me feel like..."
"Horny?"
"Oh yeah, that too. But not just that." He pushes deeper inside of me, ever so delicately. "You make me feel--not sure if this makes sense--less like a freak and more like a man."
Gosh, I hope he doesn't notice my eyes welling up. That might kill the mood.
"You can fuck Mommy a little," I whisper in his ear. "If you promise to be careful."
"I promise."
I lace my finger with his and use my calves to encourage him to push deeper. Beneath the embrace of my legs, I feel his butt contracting, and every time he does, a wave of pleasure rises from beneath me and washes all over. It is eerie how not wrong all of this feels. It is as if part of my brain, or my soul, has shut down, or was never there in the first place. Either way, I can't go back. And if I could, I wouldn't.
"I cannot believe how good your pussy feels without a condom," my son says, and I must resist the urge to share with him how much I also prefer to have his cock without anything in between. He might get the wrong idea.
I think this would probably be a good moment to put it on, but that's not what I tell him. Instead, I pull him further down to me, squeeze his face between my tits, and whisper: "You can do it harder."
His appreciation for my breasts gave me some much-needed confidence. Just pressing his head between them made him throb inside of me. I hold him tight, and probably make it harder for him to thrust at full strength, but he still does. It is glorious.
His face rises from between my breasts, seeking my lips. I let his tongue in my mouth. We both do the utmost to make the kissing as noisy, sloppy, and obscene as possible. In my eagerness to hold him tight, I leave him precious little room to manoeuvre, but he makes the best of it, pushing ever deeper inside of me. I ride his gentle penetration with caution. Despite the quick haircut, my poor vagina is still overstimulated by the past night. My next climb to Mount Climax needs to be slow and gentle.
"Mom?" Erik calls to me, but I do not listen. The mountain top is in sight. "Mom, are you okay?"
"Don't stop, honey!" I say, half commanding, half imploring. "Mommy's almost there."
"Yeah, that's kinda the problem." Erik snickers. "Me too."
"Just hang in there a minute longer." I honestly don't know what possessed me to say that.
"Mom, for real. We don't have a minute." His laughter is broken by the effort of holding back.
I don't listen. I am deaf. I move my pelvis back and forth, chasing what has become an annoyingly elusive orgasm.
"Mom, stop!" Erik breaks free of my embrace and holds me firmly down on the bed. He is not angry, just frustrated. As for me, I am dying of shame. Instead of being the adult in the room, I acted like a horny teenager. Thank God, my son, who right now has more sense than me, stopped us from making a very stupid mistake.
Erik grabs the condom, bites the wrapper off, and dons it in a hurry. He pushes back inside of me, making me moan loud and very nearly cum.
"So, where were we?" he asks.
Now that his manhood is safely secured behind a shield of rubber, we forego the gentleness, and he makes me cum like a fucking train. By now, everyone in Seattle and San Diego will know that I am sexually active again.
Erik delicately pulls his cock out. I prop myself up, eager to see how much cum I have been missing this time. The answer is... none.
"Honey, what...?" I wash the sweat off my brow. "What happened? You didn't cum?"
"It's the last condom," he says with a shrug. "We gotta make it count."
No sooner has he finished saying those five words than he pushes me back down, forcing me on my side and raising my leg.
"Easy, easy, honey!" I don't think I sound particularly convincing. "I just came, I am super sensitive down the--" My words melt into incoherent moaning.
"Sorry, Mom." His apology is the opposite of sincere. "I really like the noises you make when I do this."
Over the course of the following hour or so--I really, really, really couldn't tell--Erik brings me to a third and a fourth orgasm. After the former, I am ready for a long pause. After the latter, I am ready to go back to sleep. Still, the cocky little bastard I have raised won't let himself go. Can't he see I want his cum? He'd better be about to take that condom off and spray me with his jizz. Otherwise, he is so grounded.
"Honey, w-why...?" I can barely articulate my threat/imploration. "Why are you still holding back?"
"Because I love you," he says. "I don't want this to end."
"It won't end, dear," I promise him. "B-but please. Mommy can't take it anymore now. I need you... I need you to cum."
"But--"
I have had enough. I use what little energy I still have left to push him back and climb on top of him.
"Holy shit, Mom!"
"Language!" I scold him. "And cum for momma."
I ride him like it's the last thing I'll ever do, which might actually be the case.
"Okay, okay!" he says, unable to resist me. "We can do more stuff after?"
More stuff? For real?
"S-sure thing, hon. We rest a little and then we do everything you want. But now... now Mommy wants you to cum for her."
"Well, thank God because my cock feels like it's about to come off," he laughs in relief.
"Well, we can't have that." I reach out for his hands and place one on my hip and the other on my chest. "Mommy needs your beautiful cock, so we have to take good care of it."
"Okay." He smiles, shaking off the sweat. "Let's fill up this condom."
Bah. I wished he filled up something else.
We hold tight and I ride towards the finish line. It does not take long to get there.
He groans and bucks like a wild bull. As his pretty face passes from concentrated effort, through animalistic abandon, to exhausted relaxation, I am almost moved to tears. I can feel the condom ballooning inside of me. We exchanged a final kiss.
"Wow..." I whisper. "That looked intense."
"Yeah." He pants heavily. "I was starting to think those gooners are onto something."
Gooners? What the hell is he talking about? I rather not ask. I do not need any reminder of our generational gap.
I prop myself up, nearly pulling off the condom in doing so. Thank God, it held.
I drop right next to me. Half of me misses him already. The other half is in a coma.
I woke up just a few hours ago and I feel myself drifting away again already. Age will do that to ya. I am surprised by the sensation of Erik's fingers intertwined with mine. When did he take my hand?
"Jesus," I sigh. "Still can't believe we did this. Again."
"I can," he laughs.
"Are you sure you don't--?"
"Mom, please!" He rolls his beautiful eyes. "How many times will we have this conversation?"
"As many as either of us needs," I warn him. "Women are like that, we need constant reassurance."
"Ha!" He chuckles. "If someone as hot as you needs to be reassured, there is no hope."
"I guess there isn't." I roll on my side and face him. "Tell me you don't regret this."
"I regret we had to take a pause." He caresses me. "I wish I could just get instant-hard again like in hentais."
Thank God he can't. I would die. Smiling, but still die.
"Is it always going to be like this?" He asks after a short pause.
"Like what, honey?"
"Like I can't keep my hands off of you." He presses himself on me, squeezing my butt. "I feel horrible just thinking I won't be able to spend the whole day with you tomorrow."
"It may feel like that for a while, yes." I move his hand a little further down my butt, showing him where I like to be squeezed. "It's called the honeymoon phase. We will be there for a while."
"And then?"
"Then we find our balance, our routine."
"Routine?" He pronounces the word like he did when I used to try feeding him broccoli.
"Routine isn't boring, honey," I patiently explain. "It's knowing how to be together without needing to chase each other every second. It's balance. It's tranquility--with the added benefit of intimacy."
"But we'll still fuck, right?"
"Of course, honey." I don't think I could go without this now. "It's still passion, but tempered--knowing each other, trusting each other, enjoying the comfort that comes from that."
"I do wanna know you." He holds me tight enough to make me hurt--yet it would hurt more if he didn't. "Like this, I mean."
"You will, hon. You will."
We lose ourselves in a storm of kisses.
--
Monday morning, Erik asks to skip school to stay home with me, and God knows if I am not tempted to call in sick.
I resist the temptation, even if not without effort. I am not letting Erik compromise his future over me. He is sad, of course, but I promise to make it up to him in the evening.
On my way back from work, I stop at the pharmacy and buy a new pack of condoms. A large one, this time.
Erik offered to go buy them himself but I firmly refused. His wallet is not as big as his heart and I fear he might go for quantity over quality, which is a very bad idea.
I buy my favourites: ultra-thin, lubricated, latex-safe, and obviously extra-large. A little pricey but worth it. A pack of twelve, it should last us at least for a week. A day and a half later, we are fresh out again.
I cannot go back to the same pharmacy so soon. I am already turning enough heads as is. I need to make a longer detour when coming home and buy more packs. This does not help much. Erik burns through them as quickly as he can, knowing that I can't resist having him doing it raw once we are out of options.
Having him pulling out at the last second is both thrilling and stressing. I love the sensation of his cum on my skin, but the more we do it, the more I want him to fill me up. Sooner or later, we will do something stupid.
By the end of the month, contraceptives have become a hilariously significant part of our expenses, which I try to mitigate by giving Erik a lot of oral attention.
While my boy enjoys a good blowjob as much as the next man, he is ridden with guilt for not making me orgasm. I compensate by showing him how much I love gulping down his cum and also by having him return the favor. And boy, does he return it
He is a good listener, my Erik. After just half a dozen sessions, he got a firm grasp on how to bring his mommy to screaming orgasm after screaming orgasm. He is not shy about it either. He licks my pussy as often as I allow him to, which is quite often. He also seems to find it quite relaxing. Soothing almost.
Once, just when I was about to jump over the edge, he fell asleep between my legs. He was so cute, I didn't have it in my heart to wake him up. When he finally came to, I let me do me raw, feel how wet I was, and finally cum all over me.
The way he looked at me while I licked my lips and my tits clean, almost moved me to tears.
--
We are now over two months into our honeymoon phase, and there is no end in sight. I was able to limit our sexual encounters on weekdays to just four: one in the morning, one when we return home, and two in the evening. I even gave Erik extra allowance to buy more video games. It kinda worked, except for the fact that I ended up blowing him while he was playing. Something I inexplicably enjoyed as much as he did and became yet another of our regular interactions.
I walk into the office half skipping, half crawling. People notice. Julia reads me like an open book and keeps pestering me for the juicy details. I give her just enough to keep her off my back. Still, it gets harder to explain why my hair is always tied up in a bun, why I drown myself in deodorant, and why I disappear to the bathroom every time I get a message on my phone. Obviously, I can't tell her that my hair would otherwise be a mess, that my clothes would reek, and that my Erik can't survive the day without at least a few selfies from his mommy.
These are just the weekdays of course. Weekends... weekends are a different thing altogether.
On Friday night, we come back from a long day and have dinner on the couch, either Chinese or pizza. Then, we cuddle and watch a movie on the couch. For a while, everything feels like it was before. Except that we never finish the movie.
It starts differently each time. Sometimes he just pounces on me. pulling up my shirt and latching onto my tits. Sometimes it is me who climbs on top of him and demands his undivided attention. Sometimes it's more casual, just an accidental brush that somehow ends up with me deepthroating him, or sitting on his face, or both.
He still enjoys giving me foot massages, and I still enjoy receiving them. The only difference is that now I learned to pull down his zip with my toes, and the massage becomes a footjob. Turns out he is kinda into those. We both are, I guess. I just love the way he looks at me when I do that, almost as much as I love the sensation of cum on my toes.
After that, we go upstairs. We have stopped sleeping in separate beds. What would be the point? We do it one or two more times, depending on how tired I am--since Erik never is.
Saturday morning, we sleep in. It became a nonwritten rule that whoever wakes up first must either get breakfast ready or wake up the other with oral.
Next on the schedule are the chores, which Erik performs a lot more diligently, thanks to all the positive reinforcements. Still, I have to be careful. If I lean too much, my shirt slips, and he laundry becomes titfucking. If I bend over too far, he must stop the vacuum and blow him. And God forbid I hum while drying the dishes--he'll be behind and inside of me before I can even put the plate away. I almost never do this on purpose, and I just love how easy it is to rile him up.
After lunch, Erik usually goes to the beach. He would love to just stay home fucking his mom, of course, but I won't let him. He needs a social life, and I also need some me time.
While he is out, I am able to finish whatever is left to do, ready dinner, and read some if I still have the time. Erik comes home relatively early, and we eat together with casual banter, casual brushing, and a bit of footplay.
He eats with a good appetite, which is no surprise considering the amount of calories he burns with me. I have also more or less subconsciously altered our menu to make sure he is in good shape and has... more abundant orgasms. Less sugar, more healthy fat and nuts, I basically banished sodas. As long as Erik is eating, I can keep him relatively at bay, but once he is done with his meal, the gloves are off.
We run upstairs and sometimes don't even make it to the bedroom before we start doing it. Once, he accidentally ripped off my panties, which made me so horny I almost smothered him in kisses. We don't need that much foreplay. My pussy has learned to be ready and lubricated for him for his cock, which never fails to stand at attention the moment his pants drop.
I put a condom in my mouth and unroll it on his beautiful cock, thanking it in advance for the many orgasms it is about to give me. Finally, Erik forces my legs open and enters me. Sometimes I cum just by having him bump into my cervix for the first time in the night. We keep going until either of us falls asleep, usually me.
Sunday morning goes pretty much the same way as Saturday. Breakfast is the only time we can go grocery shopping, and even that requires careful planning. With the added urgency of the weekend nearing its end, Erik is even more riled up, and I have to be ready for a quick blowjob--or an even quicker fuck--at any moment. Each week, he grows bolder and hornier. Sooner or later, we're going to get caught, and I'd rather that not happen where people might recognize us. That means we have to drive further away, which usually leads to sex in the car.
In the evening, I have to make sure Erik's balls are well and empty before Monday comes. My poor boy is extra horny. He is extra horny because I make him, and it falls to me, his mom, to make sure he is completely satisfied and able to focus on his studies. It is a rewarding, if exhausting, endevor.
--
This weekend, I feel especially exhausted. We already did it five times over the course of the day, and I hope six will be the winning number.
"Are you close, honey?" I ask, short of breath and weak in the legs.
"Almost there," says he, shoving his cock deeper inside and slapping his crotch against my blushing buttcheeks. "How many condoms do we still have?"
"That's the last one, hon." I half moan and half chuckle."
"Already?" he jokes, I think. "Then we gotta make it count."
I really wish he didn't. He had the intriguing idea of fucking me in front of the mirror, which I do not entirely like. First, I am forced to see myself, naked, sweaty, and impaled on my son's cock. Secondly, standing sex is something that, to me, lost most of its charm by my mid-thirties. My pussy is loving every second of it, but my legs and back would love returning to the bed.
"That's it, Mom. I'm cumming."
"Cum for Mommy, hon. Fill her up!"
He humps me harder. So much so that I almost lose my balance. He has to hold me in place. Being used like that is something I have cum to enjoy a little too much. While he is giving me the final shoves, I am assailed by a surprise climax and begin quaking all over his cock. I let out one final, broken, and gasping scream as he shoots his load.
I remain pressed against the mirror, with everything below my neck imploring for some time out. Erik pulls out of me, giving my legs, back and pussy some much-needed respite. Unfortunately, the relief is short-lived.
"Oops!" I hear him whisper with clenched teeth.
"Oops?" I ask in groggy concern. "What happened?"
"Um... not sure how I should put this."
"In words, honey." My concern mixes with frustration, and they block each other out. "And don't mince them."
"Well, it's gone?"
"...What. Is. Gone, dear?" My fingernails scratch the glass.
Erik shows me his cock. It appears that at some point during the final bout, it lost its precious rubber helmet. Concern and frustration turn into panic.
I search inside myself with my fingers. This is a literal and metaphorical mess.
"Did you get it?" Erik asks.
"No, I did not get it!" I snap at him. "Christ! I think I can feel it rubbing against my cervix."
"That sounds bad!"
"It fucking is!"
"Does it hurt?"
Normally, I would be touched by his inexperience and genuine concern. But right now it only adds fuel to an already raging fire.
"No, honey, it does not hurt. But we need to get it out now."
"By we, you mean...?"
"Well, your fingers are longer than mine, aren't they?" I raise my butt while holding onto the mirror again. He smiles at the sight. But at the moment, I feel rather indifferent to flattery.
Erik goes in. I do the utmost to stay calm and relaxed, which might be the hardest thing I've ever done--after giving birth, of course.
"Am I close?" He asks me, barely two inches inside.
"No. Not by a long shot!" I growl at him.
"Are you sure this doesn't hurt?"
"No, honey. It doesn't," I lie. "Keep going."
He keeps digging, and I must focus like a fucking monk not to clench my muscles and make an already quite bad situation worse!
This is it. Karma has finally caught up with me. Our Lord in heaven decided I needed a little reminder of how fucking wrong all of this was. Jesus, I am so stupid!
Erik watches me and misreads my discomfort.
"Maybe we should go to a hospital," he timidly suggests.
"No. Hospitals," I roar.
"Mom, this... this really feels like the sort of thing that a healthcare professional should take care of."
"Erik." I have never struggled so hard to stay calm. "If you don't get that thing out, I will murder you and myself."
I must look terrifying, because Erik takes what was meant to be a dumb hyperbolic joke as a serious threat. He faces twists with fear, shame, and guilt.
"Mom, I am so sorry," he whimpers. "I swear to God I didn't want to hurt--"
I pull myself up, forcing him out of me. Before he has the time to say anything, I wrap my arms around him. I hold my boy as tight as my few remaining energies allow me to.
"Hush, hush, hush. None of that," I whisper in his ear, and try to comfort him with a caress. I could use some comforting myself right now, but--God forgive--I'm still his mom. "It happens, dear. I've been through worse."
"You have?" He asks, skeptical but desperate to believe me.
"Yep. Once I had a whole toy stuck in."
"For real?" He tries to dry a tear without me noticing. I pretend I didn't.
"Big one too. Now, that was a pain to retrieve."
"Wow," he chuckles. "I didn't even know you could have a toy stuck in your pussy."
"Oh, it wasn't my pussy."
And there he goes with that stupid smile again.
"Cut it out!" I grumble.
We both take a deep breath, considering what we should say or do next.
"Are you mad at me?" he asks.
"No, honey, I am not." But I am furious at myself.
"Maybe you should be," he takes his head in his hand. "I should've been more careful when putting it on. I--"
"Honey, we have been going for... how long?"
He checks the phone.
"Um... about an hour?"
"What?" My, how time flies by. "No wonder it came off, and possibly broke. Jesus, I am starting to think that condoms might not be the best option for a superstud like you."
"Or a superbabe like you."
I really wish I were more resilient to flattery.
"The point is, we need to get it out. And I will also need to visit the pharmacy."
"I'll drive you."
"No, you are not!" That is not a trip I want to take with him. "Look, just... just get it out, okay?"
We go back at it, and it is one unpleasant, uncomfortable, and embarrassing experience for me and him. Still, persistence pays off.
"Gotcha, you sombitch!"
"Language," I repeat to my son, while he is still wrist deep in my pussy.
"There it is." He shows me the condom. It does not take a scientist to deduce that a large portion of the sperm it temporarily contained has been squeezed out during the retrieval operations.
"Well, that's that." God, I am a mess, the room is a mess, everything is a mess. Focus, Claire. One catastrophe at a time.
"I'd better go look for a pharmacy that's open on a Sunday." I grab my phone and swipe in resignation.
"Are you sure you don't want me to drive you?"
"I'll ride the bus."
"Okay," he mutters.
I pause my swiping, and again, despite all, try to be a mother.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It feels like you are running away from me."
"I am not running away from you, Erik." Jesus, his timing is terrible. "We have, and we need to fix this."
"Then let me help you fix it," he insists.
"I will take care of this." I point at myself. "If you truly wanna help me, do something about this mess."
"You mean do the laundry?" He looks at the sheets like they were a crashed UFO.
"Yeah," I state the obvious.
"Okay," he takes courage. "What setting? Temperature? Any specific detergent?"
"Oh, my God! You are incredible." I try not to laugh, and fail. "You can fix the fucking washer, and you still don't know how to use it."
"Hey, I'm the mechanic, you are the pilot."
"Unbelievable," I scoff.
"Those are two completely different sets of skills." He laughs. "Like, say, penetrative sex and cunnilingus."
"Well, you mastered both of those, didn't ya? Stop making that face!"
I run out of room, then back in, get my clothes, and run out again.
I do not exactly have the time--or patience--for makeup and styling, right now. I collect my post sex hair into a bun, spray on a healthy dose of deodorant, and don my jeans and sandals. That'll do. Now I just need to put on my bra. Bra. Where the fuck did I leave my bra?
My sex-scrumbled brain is unable to recollect the exact location of my bra. I walk back on my own steps. Did I put it on this morning? I kinda stopped wearing them on the weekend, since they are always in the way. Maybe I left it in the living room last night.
"Erik!" I call out loud. "Did you see my bra?"
"No." The answer comes as an echo.
"Are you sure? I think I left it in the living room on Friday," which is forever ago. "Can you check?"
I grab a loose shirt. Worst case scenario, I'm going commando.
I hurry downstairs and am just about to ask Erik when I spot him recovering my lost bra from beneath the couch. Instead of calling me, he tugs it in his back pocket. What the fuck?
"Honey? Did you find it?" I ask, nonchalantly entering the room.
"Oh! Um... no, sorry."
I stare at him for the boldface, motherfucking liar that he is.
"Erik, seriously. I need it. I can't go out like this." I show off my braless girls dancing beneath the shirt.
"Why not?" he asks with his usual grin. "You look great!"
"Yeah, I would stop traffic," I mumble. "Come on. Give it up."
"I don't know what you are talking about."
I... can't help but smile at him. He grins back.
He hands out my bra but pulls it way up out of reach.
"Hold your horses," he smirks. "What do I get for it?"
"Erik, this is not the time."
"I think I deserve a prize; otherwise, I'm keeping it."
I unbutton my jeans and pull them off in a hurry.
--
It's been a while since I last took the bus, and twenty minutes of waiting is a sufficient reminder of why. At least I have recovered my bra, even if I had to give up my panties for it.
I check my phone for my destination. The closest open pharmacy I could find is fifteen stops away. That makes a whole thirty minutes trapped inside my head, which right now is not a nice place. I need to turn my brain off.
I open TikTok, hoping the algorithm will lull me with blissful brainrot.
The first thing it proposes to me is a cat video, one of my many guilty pleasures. It almost makes me chuckle--until a mama cat chases away a huge Labrador to protect her kitten. Now, that's a good mom. I scroll on.
Next up is an ad for fertility treatment, and I am crushed by an anvil of irony. I skip it fast.
Next, a BookTok I've been subconsciously following for six months. She's pitching a story about a young woman turned assassin and the immortal prince she's sworn to kill. How many of these have I been reading? I scroll on, scroll back, bookmark it, and scroll on again.
Another ad: the latest Korean skincare. I should skip it, but fall into temptation.
A perfect young woman stares back at me, every line erased, her skin glowing as if lit from within. She's draped in a flowing dress, probably woven out of sunlight. The breeze teases her hair into effortless perfection. Words flash across the screen in bold, cheerful letters: Age is just a number--your skin deserves better.
I shut the phone and shove it into my purse. Fantastic. Even the CCP thinks I am old.
God, my head feels two sizes too small and ten pounds too heavy. I press it against the window and let the passing scenery be my only distraction.
At the pharmacy, the line is relatively short, and thank God for that. On my way to the counter, I pass over a shelf loaded with condoms. I should get more while I am at it. But should I? This--this whole thing--feels a lot like a wakeup call. It could very well be my last chance to stop what I know is a devastatingly self-destructive cycle.
Not even fifteen minutes later, I am back on the bus, with a bottle of water, my plan B pill, and no condoms. Why did you not buy more condoms, Claire? Because you don't want to keep driving on the highway to hell, or are you just momentarily spooked? Tell me, you no good slut, what will you do when you get home? Will you tell your son that this insanity must end? You decided to play with his heart, and now you are going to break it? Or maybe not. Maybe you'll go home to your beautiful boy and have him empty every ounce of sperm he has in his balls inside your pussy where it belongs. Then, and only then, should you take the pill. It cost you sixty bucks, for crying out loud. Make it count!
Unless you prefer not taking it at all.
"Mrs. C, hi!"
The familiar, feminine voice freaks me the fuck out. I turn to her and put on a very trembling smile.
"Oh, hi Mindy!" Like a curvy stage magician, I make the pill disappear between my thighs. "How are you?"
"Okay, I guess." She takes a seat right in front of me. I was right. God is punishing me. "Hot day, huh?"
"It sure is." Why did she say that? Am I sweating? Of course I am. I can feel my back and armpits growing swampy. I should have put on more deodorant.
Mindy looks at me, mirroring my forced smile. She blushes, clearly struggling to put her thoughts into words.
"So... how is Erik?" she asks.
"Oh, he is good. Good, I guess."
My phrasing could not be more awkward. Fortunately, she does not see through it.
"Uh. Good to hear." She falls silent.
She is cute. Real cute. And young. Full of life. It is also clear that she is not over Erik. What should I do? What should I say?
"Erik told me how you broke up," is all it occurs to me.
"He did?" She winces.
"Well, he didn't go into details," I stutter. "Just that it was... kinda bad."
"It kinda was." She lowers her eyes.
"I am so sorry." An extremely partial truth. "I hope the two of you will stay friends."
That is not what she wished to hear. It was not what I wanted to say either. Part of me would be just elated to see them back together. The other part of me would like her to move to New Jersey.
"Mind if I ask you something?" She looks at me with puppy eyes.
"O-of course not, dear. What is it?"
"Is Erik seeing anyone? As far as you know, I mean."
I can feel my blood freezing in my veins. Does she know something? Did Erik tell her? No way. I'm being paranoid. Keep it together, Claire.
"I-I really wouldn't know," I say, with the confidence of a dodo talking to a Spanish soldier. "Erik does not really discuss this sort of thing with me."
"I guess not." She sinks into her seat.
"Did he tell you something?" I pry, like I would pry inside a recently dug up grave.
"He said that--" Her words die on her lips. Her confession takes her a huge amount of courage. Courage that I am taking advantage of. "He said he met someone special and that for the first time in his life he is truly in love."
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
"You think it's true?" she insists, imploring almost. "It's not true, right? I mean, it was one week. What are the chances? Right?"
"I don't know." I buy time to think. What am I supposed to tell her? The truth? I would sooner jump in front of this bus. Should I just tell her that she should get over him? I can't. I can't treat her like a rival in a teen drama. This is already fucked up as it is. "Look, I'll talk to him and... I'll tell him to call you. And at least be honest."
She breathes a little easier.
"Thank you, Mrs. C," she says, tearing half of my heart out. "You are a good person." And there goes the other half.
The purgatorial ordeal that was this bus ride eventually comes to an end. I recover the pill that I wrapped inside the pamphlet and put it in my mouth. Without further hesitation, I down it with a mouthful of water. There. It is done.
I barge inside and find Erik on the couch. He quickly lets go of the joypad and comes to meet me.
"Hey." I can tell he wants to hug me, and more, but he is not sure of how I would react. I am not sure either. "So, did you get it?"
"Yeah. I got it."
The silence lasts one breath. Then another.
"I would like to pay for it," he says.
"It's sixty bucks," I inform him with a half smile.
He whistles in incredulity. "Sixty bucks a jar, no wonder the pharmas are so loaded."
"No, honey. That's sixty a pill."
"Sixty a--" He chokes. "Jesus Christ."
"Yep."
He lets out scoffs and half-formulated swears.
"I would still like to pay for it," he insists. "I did this and it's only right."
"Forget it." I shake my head. "I won't let you waste your allowance on an orgasm."
"It was one hell of an orgasm, though." He smirks. "Zero regrets on that side."
I truly cannot say I share the sentiment.
"Something wrong?" he asks.
"Is something not?" I ask in return, putting him in immediate distress. I take his hand and lead him back to the couch. "We need to talk."
"Yes, we do," he immediately interrupts. "Did you get more condoms?"
"Honey, I'm serious." He was afraid I would say that. So was I. This conversation is not just necessary; it is inevitable. "I met Mindy on the way back."
"Oh Jesus." He turns as far away from me as possible.
"She still cares about you," I pull him gently back to me. "Are you sure you are not giving up something good, something real, for... this?"
"But this is good!" He grabs me by the waist, making me yelp. "This is real."
"No, honey." I try to keep some distance between me and him. "This is not real, it is a perverted dream."
"And whose dream is that? Yours or mine?" He caresses my hips.
"It doesn't matter!" I push his hands away. "It's a dream. One that we'll have to give up on. One we will have to wake up from."
He jumps up, searching the room for something to smash. It doesn't matter. I'm ready for it. Whatever he does, I deserve it.
"I... am not ready to wake up, yet." He falls back onto the couch.
"Yeah," I say, embracing him as a parent should. "Me neither." I kiss his cheek. "It felt good, having you all to myself. But the more we continue, the harder and more painful it will become to stop. And you do know that we have to stop."
"Do we?" He insists with his smirk. He does not convince either of us. "I guess we do."
I give him another kiss. "I am so proud of you."
"I'm not." He laughs a broken laugh. "But if that's what you want."
"What I want is irrelevant." I caress him. "What you need is all that matters."
"I need you." God, that voice, those eyes, the touch of his hands as he takes mine. He wants me to melt.
"Yes, you need me... to be your mom."
"Not my mommy?" He jokes, but I find his attempt at humor more tender than amusing. "Sorry."
I raffle his head.