Sunday Storm Warning
Ann headed to her job at the grocery store the next morning, checking the weather to see when the snow would hit. She worked from 7:00am to 4:00pm and was relieved to see the snow was supposed to start around 6:00pm that night. As she mechanically steered her car to her work, her mind worked through the scene with her son from yesterday. She hoped she had nipped it in the bud as there was no way she was going to give her only child more mental or emotional damage. The night before she had masturbated in her bed, fantasizing about the cum filled panties, her fingers alternating between plunging in and out of her sloppy pussy and in and out of her mouth as she imagined her juices were semen she sucked off her fingers. She told herself last night and again this morning that wasn’t the same thing at all as incest. She was focused on the cum, not the producer of it.
After the car pulled out of the driveway, Brandon dug around in the back of one of the kitchen cabinets, making sure there was a bottle of red wine. Ann hardly ever imbibed, but with just her at legal drinking age in the house, she would sometimes finish the bottle and once Brandon even had to hep her to bed. Was he going to try to fuck his unconscious drunk mother? No. Certainly not. Would he try to get her inhibitions lower? That was the plan.
Ann headed back home after work, the first flakes of snow starting to fall. They were big fat flakes that presaged accumulation. The forecast had been updated for heavy snow and the grocery store was bombarded with worrywarts buying the store’s inventory out of milk, bread, deli meats, and for some reason, toilet paper. Ann was exhausted, feeling like she had worked two shifts. She did not feel like cooking and was contemplating ordering take out or delivery, but debating with herself about shifting her budget around to accommodate it. Fuck it. She’d order she and Bran a nice meal from somewhere, have it delivered, then figure it out later.
When she walked through the door, she was unexpectedly greeted with the scent of something cooking and it smelled really good. Bran didn’t really cook… what was going on? She put down her purse and went into the kitchen to find Brandon standing in front of the stove. The table was set for two and there was an unopened bottle of wine on the table.
“Bran? What… what is this?” She was smiling, but puzzled.
“Hey, mom. I know how the store gets with weather stuff so I made us some spaghetti so you don’t have to cook. I not sure I got the garlic bread right, but the rest was pretty easy.”
“Bran, you are the most thoughtful young man ever!” She glided across the kitchen, feeling a warm burst of love in her chest and kissed him on the cheek as she hugged him tightly. She expected to feel him pull away in embarrassment, but he leaned into her a little, still concentrating on his sauce and noodles.
“Open the wine, mom. I know you deserve a glass after the day you had.”
“You are right about that, Bran, but I have to work tomorrow. No wine.” Ann picked up the bottle and put it on the kitchen counter by the stove. She caught a glimpse of Bran looking… disappointed? Unhappy?
“Honey, it was super thoughtful of you and I love everything you’ve done for us tonight, but I work tomorrow. I’ll have some this coming up weekend and maybe even let you have half a glass or something. Okay, sweetie?”
“Yeah, mom. That sounds cool.” Brandon scowled down into his sauce, replying, “Dinner’s ready.”
They had a nice meal together, chatting about Ann’s day at work and Brandon’s latest D&D adventures. After they cleaned up, Ann expected Brandon to go to his room per usual to play video games or whatever he got up to in there, but he surprised her by suggesting they watch a movie. Ann was further surprised when she looked up from the couch to find him bringing a blanket over.
“It’s cold and snowy, Mom. I thought it would be nice to curl up under the blanket. We could turn off the lights and watch the snow fall for a bit before we start the movie.”
“Bran… that’s, wow… it sounds great. Let me change into some comfy jammies and I’ll be right back.”
Ann groaned as she took off her shoes, rubbing the soles of her feet briefly before taking off her shirt, leggings, and bra and donning fuzzy socks, long loose flannel pajama pants, and a matching button up top. No way was she putting that fucking bra back on after the day she had. She put her hair up in a tie and headed back to the living room.
She plopped down on the couch and watched Brandon open the blinds and turn off the lights, feeling a warm glow at the thought of a cozy evening with her favorite person in the world.
“I love you so much, Bran.” She watched him watching the snow fall through the window, his profile stark in the dim light. He really was a handsome young man. They would figure out something to get him a girlfriend.
“Love you too, mom.” Brandon turned away from the window to smile at her, looking at her more… deeply… than he normally did?
“Look at it come down, Bran. What was the latest on the weather?”
“Oh, you know… snowpocalypse, the storm to end all storms, 20 feet of snow, all that normal bullshit they try to scare you with.”
“Bran. Language.”
“Sorry, mom.” He pulled Ann’s feet onto his lap and started to rub them, surprising her. “Your feet must be tired, right? I know some days I hear you complain about them.”
“That feels amazing, honey. You don’t have to rub my feet.” Ann was hoping he wouldn’t stop, but she certainly wasn’t expecting her son to rub her feet.
“Mom — you do so much for me, I want to do this. I want to make you feel good.” He continued the foot rub, Ann sinking back into her blanket, totally relaxed as she watched the snow fall.
Brandon rubbed his mom’s feet through her fuzzy socks, very subtly rubbing the heel of her foot against the hardness in his jeans, confident she couldn’t tell what he was doing through the thick material. He wanted more, and moved his hands up to her calves, pulling the tops of her socks down to massage the smooth skin of her legs. He heard his mom moan softly as he kneaded the tight muscles. He was afraid to speak, to ruin this moment, and lost himself in the sensations of her feet on his hardness and his fingers on her legs.