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In time they resolved to turn over a new leaf!
Ray was definitely not coming back. His shady manipulations and his hidden agendas exposed, they were just the cherry on top of the cake that had long ago turned stale. But if the deal hadn’t been sealed by now, that’d have done it.
He was gone for good, no matter what the future held, and that was as good a place as any to make resolutions, because it seemed defeatist and derogatory to live in his shadow, living the way they had when he was still there, as though keeping his place warm when he had no place there.
No, Stevie was not forcing her son out of the house out of some false sense of protection. And no, neither was she interested in getting back out there on the dating scene. She had decided that she liked being alone, at least for now, in the company of her son.
So she made it perfectly clear that he could stay for as long as he wanted to. Unlike other families that pressured their offspring out into the world, she didn’t see why he couldn’t find his place in the world while still having this place to call home.
If he could live there with the knowledge of her lifetime kink. If he couldn’t, wouldn’t the goal then be to rebuild that bridge? Just as Stevie could never have disowned her son, she would never have imagined the emotional catastrophe of being disowned as the woman that had brought him up into the world.
Their new leaf was inked with one very brave constitution. Nothing was off limits. Whatever they wanted to know about each other, they would talk about it. Frankness was the object, frankness and honesty and openness.
This was now becoming more a unique living arrangement than a traditional family hierarchy, as a result. Live liberally and take responsibility conservatively. Was that not the ideal way for adults to live amongst adults after all?
Stevie hadn’t done the former for much of her adult life – living liberally – but when she did, it had quickly descended into an ill-fated juggling act. What was the difference now?
The difference was simply a state of mind, because Stevie had turned today’s family home into yesterday’s prison cell, making Lee the bearer of her struggles and strains; which was going to hold him back in the long run.
On the subject of incest, she didn’t have to know the technical ins and outs of suffocating her boy through emotional incest, the facilitator of many a worse crime. He had never been her Oedipus. She had never been his Jocasta. It was never a power game over mind and emotions.
Ray had been the power player, so the conclusion dictated. If he had been there to represent himself, pulled up before judge and jury, he would have tried to gaslight his way out, and to project his faults onto Stevie, who was admittedly weak.
But that spoke volumes for the type of man he had been. Because somebody was weak in any way, did that justify manipulation? What kind of man saw fair game in controlling vulnerability rather than making up for what his woman might lack?
Any man with a weakness would, after all, be honoured that a woman with strengths in many other respects should feel right by carrying the torch where it was necessary, and all Stevie had ever wanted was to raise Lee right and otherwise to have a little happiness and stability.
But ever since his departure, free from Ray she had inadvertently locked herself down in the absence of his authority, and for other reasons she was yet to share.
She and her son had also, for a time, locked each other out, but that was changing now. Ongoing talk therapy had also helped to transform her outlook beyond the secrets she had freed.
Ever proving to be mature beyond his time, Lee had made one more stipulation, and that was something he wouldn’t take no for an answer to.
‘Don’t be afraid of your secrets and don’t be afraid to tell me anything,’ he had said. ‘It’s nobody else’s business and I promise that nothing goes beyond these walls.’
What a loaded statement!
There was already hesitation in her promise not to be afraid, as she shouldered those words, but in time she’d come to terms. Her libido alone would drag her to that point if she tried to block it out, and especially as she began to grow comfortable fantasising at night about her favourite kink…
Fantasising about so many possibilities between she and her son, and the realities that could follow!
Sometimes she would fantasise about seducing him in a number of scenarios. Sometimes it would be Lee that initiated the seduction, if he didn’t outright just read her mind and take her.
Accidental incest scenarios brought her great excitement as well. One thing that had played on her mind as of late was born of an occurring situation between them. During a recent play fight he had grown hard in his pants. They were in the right position to initiate sex easily. All that was needed was a lack of clothes.
Stevie had run through that scenario a kars seks hikayeleri number of times, imagining what had happened if maybe she’d have been wearing nothing but a flimsy thong, maybe sporting a fat little camel toe that would have been hard for him to miss.
What if he had only been wearing his underwear, now stretched thin and tented over his raging stiffy as he “accidentally” prodded his mother’s dampening camel toe.
‘Need to get up?’ she would ask as she had that night.
Avoiding the fact that he clearly already “up”, ‘yup,’ he would awkwardly reply, as her thighs remained clamped around his hips, holding him snugly against her.
She would let him go eventually, only Lee would then pull his big cock out and slap its heavy shaft and head against her mons pubis. Two can play this game, she would think. It especially takes two to play this particular game, she would correct herself. And then she would pull the damp gusset of her thong aside and invite him to take the next natural step.
That was just one instance of the power of her filthy mind. Stevie had a knack for creating the steamiest, filthiest encounters in her head, and for some reason there wasn’t a man outside of their personal life who could possibly replace Lee.
Of course, he didn’t have to know about that, but it seemed now that maybe he did, the way he knew everything just by reading her expressions, her words, and her body language.
Stevie was going through changes she never imagined, just coming to terms with herself and learning that maybe she wasn’t the monster she thought she was. If anything she was more a functioning addict, and not the worst of any sort.
The substitute was also not so bad. Heroin addicts had their methodone. Stevie had her imagination. Answers on a postcard which one gets to keep their teeth, and the winner gets a free pleasure cruise through Literotica’s finest!
But Lee had insisted on a few occasions by now that at least he felt it was actually quite a natural desire to many, despite her ever so gradually diminishing reluctance to believe him. It wasn’t hurting anyone, least of all the son who also admitted that it was all part of 21st century sexual liberation to be able to safely explore many taboos.
Not so long ago a journalist had asked the actor Tom Hardy had he ever slept with another man. His reply went cleverly along the lines of, “of course I have, I’m an actor!” Stevie had scoffed at that little anecdote. Imagine in twenty years time that an actor no different had been asked, “have you ever slept with your mother?” and answered in the same fashion.
Ridiculous but maybe only time would tell if it would prove to be relevant!
So when the urge took her to seek pleasure in her favourite fantasy material, she would just go ahead and do it, because why worry anymore about simple harmless fantasy?
Lee was no stranger, within the bounds of her imagination, to the delights of his sinful mother’s flesh. In her most private sexual episodes, he knew her body inside and out, and he was very confident in showing it.
Ironically real life was bearing parallels. Lee’s own glorious show of sexual confidence with Kit had played its part. But he was also changing and becoming more bold, although not controlling. Lee was beginning to show her more affection for one, verbal and physical, and he was also beginning to dress more confidently – or to be more laid back in greater states of undress. He wasn’t the only one…
It was his fault if anything. These days she was just working with the material she had to hand. If that required that she flirt with her son and to flaunt herself in letting go of her doubts and fears, then there were worse things to live with.
There was a fucking band, “back in the day” as her generation would say!
They were still going now, but they weren’t the same. Nothing was the same anymore. Back in the ’90s Stevie had many a fucking good time, and many a raw fucking, to that band’s barrage of thrashing drums and eardrum ripping guitars.
Even just being invited to see the tribute band by her son had her giddy with excitement. A week in advance before the gig at Stairway to Hell – one of the last remaining old-school rock and metal clubs around – and Stevie was dragging out all of the old vinyls.
He had everything covered on the night. It felt a little bit like a date, despite its innocent simplicity, which still openly thrilled her. He plied her with booze. It had been decades since Stevie had a night of knocking back the beers, but she hadn’t lost her touch.
Ray had been a poser, with his sickly pop music. And just because a man was a bit of a character, that didn’t make him a man of character. Ray had been a bit of a beak-head and a pill-popper also, claiming once he had “settled down” that he was no longer into that shit.
In memory of Gary she’d had dumped him if she knew the truth. Looking back, all of the supplements he would jack himself up with should have been a dead giveaway. Lo and behold she had it on good word on a number of occasions that Ray had in fact returned to the scene and was now preying on young girls.
A roofie for her, a Viagra for him – she shuddered to think the man he might become!
By comparison Lee was a character but the fact that she was the object of his affections, the subject of his softer side, and that he was innocent and good at heart, she could rest assured that he was generally not the type to go off the rails, providing that he had a little guidance where it mattered.
Nostalgically, and almost quite sadly, Stevie was again reminded of Gary – his real dad – when she saw how he handled himself at the gig; though Stevie had done well to make sure that Gary’s fatal flaws would never be handed down.
He was bursting with personality, though he was yet to mature to physical distinction. For now he was timeless, just like Gary. A couple of rockers had too easily mistaken Stevie for his girlfriend. All the more thrilled she played along, following his lead.
‘Where did you two meet?’ asked a heavily eye-shadowed plump woman with stark purple lipstick and similarly cartoonish tattoos.
‘The hospital,’ Lee lied. But it wasn’t a lie, was it? He had been born in a hospital after all. The plump tattooed goth found him hilarious. ‘It’s a long story,’ he dismissed, hoping not to have to go deeper down that rabbit hole.
‘Matt and I met on a swinger site,’ she replied a little too easily. Her boyfriend, an equally rotund man but masked with a black beard and long hair, looked Stevie up and down. She was suddenly aware of what this might turn into.
Gradually they moved away and looked for a good spot to watch the band from. And arm in arm he and his mother drank, head-banged, and raved, to many a classic. For a tribute band it was a good turnout. It really felt like the real thing.
But whereas all the lads Lee’s age were posing to the softer likes of Safe Home, I Am The Law was when Stevie and Lee lost their shit and cleared the kids out of the way to soak up the mayhem on stage.
Faithful to the sentiment of the music and the bygone age, there was no going home dry and clean. Aside from the sweat and the dust and the smoke, Stevie had spilled her drink and right between her tits. She would spend the rest of the gig with her leather boots sticking to the floor where she stood.
But as that soaking had occurred, Lee stood rooted to the spot, his eyes hopelessly feasting on her soaking wet tits. Sweet Jesus how her plentiful previews glistened, like two oversized apples bobbing in a bowl of water on Halloween.
In good humour she had shrugged and attempted to shake off the excess by manically shaking her torso from side to side, almost completely freeing those huge orbs from their tight confines. After midnight and on the ride home she didn’t fail to mention how her tits had gone all sticky.
‘That was amazing but my ears are battered,’ Stevie reminisced as they closed the door behind, grateful to bask in the warmth of the family home. She was still so full of energy, though, revitalised by her social experience, and the night really wasn’t so late.
Taking off her leather jacket, Stevie hung it up on the rack by the vestibule door, turned to look where her son had gone, and followed him into the kitchen. There Lee stood filling the kettle. When he set it down to boil, he turned to face his mother with a tired but grateful smile for the fact that she seemed so happy.
Stevie wound her neck in with a grin and hugged him close. Expecting a brief but tight hug, he was surprised by how gentle and lingering it was. His hands wandered down her sides before his fingers reached inward across her back, feeling their way into the muscled ridge where rib met spine, and there he squeezed her before rubbing her back.
And then when he expected that she would kiss his cheek and finally let go, Stevie surprised him again by uttering a low hum of satisfaction before planting one softly on his lips.
‘I love you,’ she declared. ‘Thank you for a great night and for making a lady happy.’
She smiled a while, smoothing the creases of his t-shirt at his shoulders, not wanting the distance to grow. A broad smile eventually crested the expanse of his strong jaw. ‘I’m gonna get high…’
‘Do it,’ Stevie encouraged. Who was she to stop him enjoying himself. He’d sleep soundly.
Though it wasn’t a question, it was an attractive offer. ‘It’s been ages,’ she said and then quickly relented. ‘Okay, just let me go wash the stickiness off my boobs and put something loose on.’
She was aware of the effect her words had, talking about her boobs. Lee was no longer embarrassed by her pneumatic chest being on display, or by his mother enjoying them in the absence of a good man’s hands.
‘Take a photo,’ she teased, sticking her tongue out as she headed for the door.
‘You take a photo,’ he brushed her off easily, or so he thought. ‘You’re the one who can’t stop playing with them!’
She paused. No, it wasn’t going to be easy. ‘Well nobody else will…’
‘They would if you gave them half a chance,’ Lee laughed.
‘Jealous?’ Stevie harped with a cheeky little wink.
To that Lee arched one eyebrow and snorted. ‘You wish!’
‘Nah, you wish,’ she teased.
This was escalating fast. Looking down at herself, she thrust her chest out a little and looked back to her son, who was sticking firmly by his guns. ‘You can come and soap them up for me if you have to pretend so hard that you don’t look at them at every opportunity…’
That word picture might have been a bit too much in the moment. But Lee was sure he’d appreciate it later, when he was alone in bed.
‘Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you?’ he retorted, feeling his cheeks burn. It was then that Stevie cackled in her triumph, taking off for the bathroom. By the time she got there, she too was blushing hard. Maybe she had pushed that a little too far.
On second thoughts, nonsense – her man had a sense of humour. He could take a little raunch from his mum!
Stevie rinsed herself off after a quick blast, appreciating the relaxing heat of the shower and how it soothed her neck and shoulders. She was maybe too old to headbang now, which didn’t make her so sad. Towelling off she didn’t think twice about sauntering across the landing into her bedroom without a single item of clothing, not even a towel, to cover her blushing naked body.
She slipped into a flimsy low-hanging black velvet camisole top and pair of matching shorts, then drew a soft cotton hooded fleece around herself to keep out the chill. Padding barefoot down the stairs, she invited Lee to grab an ashtray. They would smoke in the warmth and comfort of the living room, snuggled up on the sofa together, while Stevie perused for something to watch on Netflix.
Soon enough they were high and happy, too laid back to want to move at all, while a movie played out on the big flat-screen. Nobody was really paying attention though. Lee kicked his shoes off and sprawled to lie down, his mother falling with him. And soon enough they were spooning.
The heady combination of highness and body-heat, the smoothness of his mother’s body pressed against his – did she know that she was rubbing her butt right up against him? Lee’s cock was now facing south, but it wasn’t soft for long, because every few moments she would wiggle right up against him, light as a feather.
He thought that she was doing it subconsciously, at least told himself that as his heart rate began to rise, and the crotch of his jeans became tight; that was until she nudged right into him as if to deliberately catch his attention.
Was she as baked as he was, or was she aware that his hard cock was pressing into her so obviously?
Stevie rolled around to face him with a spacey, faraway grin. Growing harder, Lee knew that he had lost control over his own body, if he ever had it. Now he was facing down an up-close and personal preview of his mother’s tits, and her camisole did little to contain them. Other than the shoulder straps, the only thing keeping her top up were the two blatant and large erect nipples it hung from.
She was so soft and warm. One hand ruffled his hair, and then cupped his cheek so she could hold his attention and dote on him. She smelled of peaches, her favourite soap scent, and the aroma hypnotised Lee in his dazed state.
‘I could really go for a nice snuggle on the bed right now,’ she purred. He sighed heavily, out of a mixture of both contentment and nervousness. ‘We could just, like, cuddle and talk about things where there’s more room to sprawl and spazz out…’
‘If you like,’ he replied. ‘I’ll turn everything off here first.’
What was to come? Lee heard soft music coming from upstairs as he tidied up and turned out the lights. It could have been that his mother simply appreciated the closeness and assumed that things could go no further, but in his mind, his thumping heart, and his aching balls, he doubted it.
He was stoned and not thinking straight. He was pretending and not acting straight. He was horny and not headed straight for his bedroom, at least not to release his frustrations and to sleep.
Quickly and quietly he floated up the stairs and past the low golden light emanating from his mother’s doorway, disappearing into the darkness of his own to strip and put on an appropriate pair of lounge shorts.
And when he found her, Stevie was lying on the bed, her hoodie discarded, knees up, tits up too, with little left to the imagination other than what lay beneath that camisole set. Lee had admitted that he’d seen everything on her before and she knew that was true.
He’d seen her in some situations that would make most people freak the fuck out and die of shame. For Stevie, sex had been something to be frank about, and especially with a teen son with a curious eye for the act of sex.
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