Private Sale : Desperate Mothers

He kissed my forehead at first and I felt so damned stupid.  Maybe I’d been misreading the signs or something.  It was dumb to think a guy in his early twenties would be interested in an older woman like me—and even crazier when that older woman was his own mother.

Shit, I’ve never been so wrong.

Chris’s next kiss arrived on my lips, and there was nothing innocent about it.  It lingered and blossomed into something more.  His mouth opened wider than it should have and mine opened too.  The second our tongues collided I started to lose myself.

I let out the tension and pushed my body against him.  My hands wrapped around his suit, and I pulled him towards me.

I could tell instantly that his cock was hard.  I felt a small modicum of satisfaction in knowing that I’d been right about that.  It was reassuring to know that his lust had begun at around the same time as mine and that I hadn’t imagined it all.

At first, we just kissed, moving our hands all over each other but not quite venturing to the next step.  It was as though neither one of us wanted to be the one to progress the act.  I decided, being his mother, to take charge.

I leaned away from him, breathing hard.  Chris’s face had a look of anticipation, as though he was worried I might scald him.

“Remember that fourth painting?” I asked him.  Chris thought back to it and then the penny dropped.  “I want you to do that to me.”

I looked down at my breasts to give him one final clue.  Chris’s hands moved quickly to my blouse.

“Careful,” I said, holding his wrist.  “I need to put this back on afterwards.”

Chris smiled and then tempered his movements.  He delicately unfastened me as I pulled my suit-jacket back off my shoulders and set it beside the basin.

“I want you to treat Mommy special,” I told him.  “I’m not just another woman.”  I knew Chris may have had his share.

“I know that, Mom,” he said, leaning in and kissing my cheek.

There was such a warmth from him that it was almost surreal to dial it up a notch.  His love simmered on the line between familial and something deeper.

“Take out your tits,” he told me, pulling my blouse wide and marveling at my big breasts beneath that were bound by my bra.

“It’s been so long,” I hushed.  Perhaps I shouldn’t have confessed that.

Chris pushed back my shirt.  He was still so clothed, but he didn’t give himself chance to catch up.  Instead, he reached behind and squeezed the clasp of my bra.  My eyebrows rose as he opened the clasp in one.

“Been practicing?”

Chris laughed.  “I got lucky.”

Gently I took down the bra, trying to act all demure under his scrutiny.  The truth was I was an absolute animal in the bedroom, but Chris didn’t need to know that.  Yet.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

“Come and suck Mommy’s tits,” I told him, opening my arms and inviting him onto me.