Stevie had a choice to make. Either she could drain the rest of that vodka bottle, along with what remained of her inhibitions, or she could call it quits and be a responsible adult, letting what had just happened slide for now and see what would be tomorrow and the day after that.
And what had just happened? Here she stood alone in the kitchen, night-time, and yet with midnight still far enough away to have to settle for her own company. In her own company she was already a danger to herself, even while sober.
Now a pleasantly inebriated feeling washed over her, just enough to feel warm and fuzzy and to drown the anxiety that wanted to scream out, “DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT JUST HAPPENED???”
Of course she did. The sensations very fresh in skin and muscle memory, in her lips and in other parts of her body, tingled and still touched her now like a phantom lover.
Not only did thoughts and feelings swirl within, now that she was alone again. Sounds and voices and images recollecting vividly words said, breaths breathed, kisses shared replayed the day’s fascinating turn of events.
But nothing played on her mind more than the last twenty minutes of her unbelievable life, and frankly her body, her mind, her libido, and her heart, all wanted the very same thing.
He knew now that they thought and felt the same. He knew now that they fantasised the same. Lee, her son, knew that they were clamouring at the same boundaries preventing them from seeing each other and something starkly different than what they had been all their lives.
Some of those boundaries had come down as of late. Some of it had been very innocent and then some of it shamefully guilty. Some of their more intimate interactions, and honest truths, had been shameless on the other hand and called into question the very taboo that once threatened Stevie’s sanity.
What boundaries were left now? Were they knocking them all down, and paving the way to becoming more than a lonely mother and son?
And what was the final boundary, she wondered? Was it inhibition because if it was, then both had just come very, very close just now, to planting the seed of such an impossible reality.
‘I could easily go right up there, right now, and take him,’ she thought, but she wouldn’t in light of all she had said, and of all she had recently wrestled with. But still the thought was so tempting and so alluring.
‘I could otherwise sober up a little and go say goodnight in a while. Maybe put it out there that if he really wants me, that it’d be okay,’ she thought on. And she had been there in her mind before. Not a chance in hell. She wouldn’t have the guts to offer herself and to face either outcome.
And Stevie also considered the most realistic option; say goodnight and go to bed, fuck herself silly and never mind the deep hunger within her that fingers nor sex toys, nor incredibly filthy mother and son fantasy, which would not be sated without having the real thing.
She wanted him. She wanted her son, Lee. She wanted that cock as she had seen it today, long and thick and so achingly hard, spurting and spurting almost endlessly, like shaken champagne, and if only she could have it, she would have it in every way she could imagine.
He would fuck her to completion, like that one-time wonder Kit but with a view to a permanent position. She would ride it, she would suck it, she would bend over backwards just to fuck it, and if the way she felt now was anything to go by breathless and shaken in uncertainty and anticipation she couldn’t begin to imagine the thrill of an orgasm courtesy of her biggest crush…
And her biggest fan…
Stevie screwed the cap back onto the vodka bottle and let it slide on its bottom across the kitchen worktop. There was still about a quarter left, but easy come, easy go. The same could not be said of mistakes made in the heat of the moment!
She wouldn’t make a move. She would do no harm. She would instead make a show. She would tease him harmlessly. Just a little daring something to maybe fuel what they called a “nightly emission” in him, and maybe his reaction would fuel in kind a little fantasy for her to enjoy in her own bed.
Midnight came. The lights went out downstairs, and Stevie went to her bedroom the television still audibly playing out from behind the slightly open door of Lee’s room to fetch some nightwear, before tottering off to the bathroom for a quick hot rinse.
A little while later there was a knock at Lee’s bedroom door. The overhead light was off. The bedside LED lamp cast a clean strong glow. He was already in bed watching Jon Bernthal blast the shit out of some bad guys on last year’s big Netflix action thriller.
He barely registered, but he was aware. The door was open after all, so she crept in carefully. Lee was lying in bed, not just topless but naked as ever the duvet covering his legs, his modesty, and tapering off at the hips. Beside him in the bed sat his laptop where she would be sitting.
‘You’re in bed already?’ Stevie asked, and acted as though she couldn’t believe it. She was stood right behind him and he laughed but didn’t turn to look. ‘You’re acting my age. What’s wrong with you?’
‘Here goes nothing,’ Stevie said in her head and felt thrilled from head to toe. It was almost cruel that she would tease him this way, but she would not fail to do what she set out to.
She was wearing a baby blue babydoll nightie and it was more than moderately see-through. Underneath she wore skimpy but loose white French knickers, but what he would notice for sure were her breasts, otherwise bare, big and beautiful.
Stevie felt the rush of adrenaline like a lightning bolt from her head to her toes. Of course adrenaline didn’t quite run from head to toe, but its effects could leave one’s thoughts in a muddle.
Deliberately she bent to take a seat beside him on the bed, leaning forward and arching her butt up, then saying, ‘oh silly me,’ when she sat on the laptop. Lee’s eyes were immediately on her, all over her, and from behind noticing the absence of bra straps.
Instinctively he tugged up at the duvet’s edge to secure the erection hidden underneath, one moment subsiding and then the next back with a vengeance.
‘Let me just put this on the desk for you,’ Stevie said absently, picking up the laptop and feeling that the battery pack and fan extractor very warm. Was he only pretending to be watching Jon Bernthal go full-Rambo on the Taliban to hide his interest in other more pressing matters?
That didn’t matter. What mattered was that his eyes were on her exclusively, and she knew it all the more when the TV show paused. Feeling his eyes all over her in the resulting silence she turned around, knowing full well that when she did, he would see everything by the light of his bedside lamp.
Smiling politely, hiding her nerves, Stevie returned to him and perched herself at the side of the bed, facing him. Now Lee had a close-up of her cleavage, complete with protruding nipples, the left of which clearly sported that little nipple ring.
For a moment she let him gaze, too dumbfounded at what he was seeing to know that he was staring. ‘I swear I was saying something,’ Stevie began to say. ‘It’s completely slipped my mind now. Trust me, senile old sod!’
It wasn’t the cleverest excuse to take his eyes off her tits, which she could have bared to him with a slip of the shoulders by which two flimsy spaghetti straps hung. And God did she imagine doing that.
‘You’re definitely not old,’ Lee blurted suddenly and trailed off with a dry chuckle.
Stevie’s expression flattened at a whim. ‘Oh so you’re agreeing that I’m clumsy!’ She poked him right in the bellybutton then with one manicured nail, just enough to startle him, and when he leapt out of his skin she was laughing along.
This was getting awkward way too fast because she did not give thought as to where this was going. Playfully, though absently, she scratched at his belly and then her hand hovered up to his strong chest and flattened upon it warm and smooth.
‘I’m going to bed,’ she announced as she might have at any other time. And then she leaned towards him, following his eyes as the seductive gravity of her tempting cleavage pulled his eyes into their orbit like two glassy half-moons. ‘Giz another kiss,’ she whispered, deliberately inhaling deeply enough that she almost heaved out of her transparent nightie.
1-2-3 just like it had ended before, now it commenced again as their lips so stealthily savoured each other. She was so tempted to fall into him and let it go where it may, but a couple more kisses, giggling girlishly and smiling, she inched back and let him know; ‘I love you I do.’
‘Mm-hmm,’ he laughed from behind closed lips.
‘Mm-hmm,’ Stevie hummed and made it something appreciative.
‘Me too,’ he spoke.
‘You love you too, do you?’ she mock-scolded. She knew what he meant. Then again any lad like Lee could afford, within their own rights, a little ego. Stevie was definitely going to do a bit of self-loving in a few minutes time. ‘I’ll close the door so you can love yourself in privacy.’
Exasperated, Lee rolled his eyes and scoffed. His face said it all. She never stopped. He was never going to live this down, was he? Before he could respond she attacked his lips affectionately once more and sat up so that she could stand up without falling off the bed.
Leaving nature to take care of the rest, Stevie said goodnight and left him to it. She certainly had left him with enough wank material for the night, if not for the following week. She certainly got the most out of her dirty mind as a result, twisting that innocent goodnight kiss into a variety of different erotic scenarios.
Looking back as the days of that week went by, there felt nothing wrong with a little tease and a touch-up. It put a smile on his face and it put her in an unshakably good mood. She would take to dressing a little more provocatively before bed therefore, without trying to the point of absurdity.
Nothing too frequent either! Stevie loved to feel good in her casual little numbers each special in their own way all the same and not all of them were so revealing. It just felt good to feel the appreciation of a hormonal young man, and particularly Lee.
It made her feel beautiful, which no long-term single woman did, least of all when that woman was well into her forties!