Tuesday, 23 August 2011


Special Note: Before you read this story, I must warn you that it is a very slow story. It is written by two people who love to read and who wrote it so that others who love to read can share this experience. It is not erotica even though it is erotic. It is meant to stimulate the biggest sex organ in our bodies --- our brain, and not that other part. It is more for the imagination than for the moving hands, if you know what I mean. Enjoy.

She lay there in her bed, no longer asleep, not yet awake.

Her legs extended slowly towards the bottom of the bed feeling the cool cotton sheets. It was one of her three favourite sensations when her legs caressed the smooth and soft fabric so gently in the mornings. Almost as sensuous as running her hand across her belly and letting the tips of her fingers dance against the nerves in her skin.

She spread her legs to heighten the sensation by letting the backs of her legs take as much stimulation as possible and then stretched in a languid, sinewy way before returning to the original position where the sheets still held her warmth.

From cool excitement to comforting warmth, the morning glory was in full bloom. It was no wonder it usually took her a while to get out of bed in the mornings, especially in winter. She just loved the feel of the mornings while listening to the sweet sounds of quietness as the world lay still just before an energetic jump on the day.

If she listened carefully, she could just hear his deep rhythmic breathing. A sound that was music to her soul, as well as a reminder of the potential her body held for sensual gratification. A beginning and an end unto infinity of bliss.

She rolled slowly onto her back as her hands moved gently up across her hips and her stomach, tracing his touches with as much care as she could imitate. It wasn't as overwhelming, but it was arousing nevertheless. She imagined those big hands of his gliding across her skin, barely touching, yet burning through to the middle of her being. When she found herself cupping her own breasts, she tried to imagine what he must have felt when he had played with them in a delicate, almost fragile, manner. Her palms cradled them, as her fingers moved up and touched her nipples. The warmth, the fullness, and the softness of her skin contrasted well with her erect, thin nipples.

She caressed herself gently to reach the kind of peak she had felt under his hands and then stretched again. She still wasn't fully awake but she wasn't stretching to wring out the last remnants of sleep. Her body was feeling the arousal before her mind sensed the change and she was moving to explore the rising urgency she felt.

Elizabeth opened her eyes and moved her hands away from her breasts. She carefully swung her feet from under the covers to the floor and quietly sat up. Her hands organized her hair into a ponytail as her feet searched for her slippers, found them and, as they had done so many times before, automatically slipped them on.

So many times but not like this time!

She reached over, tugged at the hem of her nightgown which lay where she had discarded it on the floor last night. Not last night; in a different lifetime. She pulled it on and padded out of the bedroom.

The sun was not yet up.

She walked down the hallway wrapping her arms around her shoulders, hugging herself and feeling an inexpressible joy. She stopped outside one of the bedrooms, pushed the door open and looked in. She checked to see if he was there. He wasn't; she knew he wasn't but maybe even now she could say good-bye to him. The bed was still made, the pillows still carelessly thrown against the headboard. She looked for a long time then turned and pulled the door closed behind her. He wasn't there. She knew that. She knew where he was.

Lost and found.

In the kitchen she started a pot of coffee and stood, enjoying the aroma, waiting for the brewing to finish. She poured some into a mug, added milk and carried it into the living room where she sat down on a sofa and placed the mug on the table next to her. She shivered slightly and pulled her legs up to hold in her body's heat and then, reaching over, grasped the cup in two hands to take in its warmth and had several sips. There was a faint trace of light along the distant horizon. She made a slight sound as she sipped the hot coffee again.

Once upon a time, her mind said. Once upon a time, not so very long ago, in a magical land just over the mountains, there was a beautiful young princess with hair the colour of sunshine and a handsome prince with eyes as tender as a newborn baby's.

She felt tears come to her eyes. For a moment, but only for a moment, she thought she would not be able to hold them back. She held the coffee mug close to her face and focused on its warmth and its aroma. She inhaled deeply, taking both the steam and the smell of the coffee into her lungs; lungs that had experienced an even more refreshing fragrance in that other lifetime. The tears did not fall as the steam seemed to have dried them up slowly.

The princess, she knew, wasn't that beautiful. And, maybe, too, the prince wasn't so very handsome either. It didn't matter. Life is not a fairy tale with chargers and stallions and ladies' handkerchiefs offered as tokens of love and esteem. It is a collection of unexpected and fleeting moments of time filled with exquisite happiness, excruciating pain, inexplicable satiation, and heart wrenching loneliness. Never a dull moment; except of course the dull moments between such moments, where the wait becomes a slice of infinite time folding onto itself.

Her prince had brought her so many of those moments --- and in just that order.

Fast forward to another time in the past.

Last year, in the early spring, Alan had abruptly decided that the posters on his walls were anchors to a childhood he had outgrown. A sudden commitment accompanied by a rush of energy and the posters were down, crumpled and jammed into a waste paper basket. The bed, pressed into a corner, had been placed the way a child would want it, so Alan moved the furniture to different positions. The child used sheets with comic book characters so Alan stripped the bed and the sheets joined the posters in the bin.

"Mom?" he called.

Elizabeth climbed the last few stairs and appeared at the doorway.


"I'm here," she said quietly.

Alan turned to the door. "I need some real sheets."

Elizabeth surveyed the room. "Seems to me you need more than just sheets."

Alan looked in the direction his mother was looking. There were marks on the wall where the tape, which had held his posters, had pulled away the paint when the posters were torn down.

"A can of paint will fix that," Elizabeth helped with his perplexity. "The room needed to be painted anyway. The sheets are a problem, though. I don't think I have any 'real' sheets. We'll have to go shopping." She gave him a comforting smile. It looked like he needed it.

A boy was declaring that he was a grownup, but he needed validation from mommy. She gave it, in a subtle and quiet way, using a mode of communication that the two of them had developed over the years. They were able to say things without using words or sounds and apparently they both were in harmony at that exact moment.

"But I need a full stop at the end of this statement."

"I can only give you an ellipsis." She then went and fetched some temporary sheets and said, "I'll help you remake the bed."

She stood on one side as Alan grabbed a sheet and passed an edge to her. Together they laid it on the mattress and tucked in the sides and ends. As Alan looked up to see how his mother was making her folds, she was bending over and her blouse was hanging loosely away from her.

Alan looked and suddenly realized what he was seeing. Or rather, realized that what he was seeing was not what he used to see. The boy really had grown up, and Elizabeth too understood that when she raised her head and saw him so transfixed.

Whether it was the vacant look in his eyes, or slightly parted lips, or a held breath, Elizabeth knew a transformation had taken place and she wasn't prepared for such a transformation. It was a history making moment, and it lasted only that long. He came out of it and looked away guiltily; another indication of the metamorphosis. There was an adult male present in the room and Elizabeth couldn't stand straight under the weight of that realization.

She put out her hands on to the bed to support her as she leaned over. "C'mon. I haven't got all day. Finish your side." Alan finished his side of the bed rather quickly.

Elizabeth walked back downstairs. There were questions in her head but no answers. She felt lost but didn't know why. She could see where she was going but didn't know her destination. The wind blew her around and the lights went out on her. She had to lean on the counter to collect herself. She couldn't collect her thoughts though, as they were scattered all over the house.

Fast rewind to another time in the past.

The princess and the prince had met the way princesses and princes meet. The princess was turning the page in her storybook, the prince was doing the same in his, and suddenly, they were in the same storybook as if they had always been together.

The "before I met you" time for both was as shapeless and bereft of memories as the "since I met you" time was as concrete and filled with promise.

The first memory she had of their meeting was an accident. It was a busy time of the day at the food court in the mall. She was rushing to use her fifteen minutes of lunch time constructively and he was strolling away after an hour long break between breaks. She turned a corner around the big flower pot next to the Thai place and slam, bam, are you okay ma'am. She had her soda cup empty itself into her blouse and he was standing like a brick wall, just smiling. She was so pissed she couldn't even speak the profanities that were going through her mind.

He didn't help her or anything. Just said, "Be careful, next time," and walked away.

She was more upset at the fact that she had only few minutes left before she had to get back to the store and tend to that cash register that had become an extension of her arms after a year and half of pounding its keys. Her food was all over the floor as the wetness travelled from the tip of her breasts to the end of her cunt. She was wet. Her pussy was wet. But it was the syrupy, thick fluid from a coke glass that had made her soaking wet.

That sensation stayed with her for weeks to come.

She asked Woo at the Thai place to call for the cleaning lady and ran back to the store. For once, Mr. Rutherford showed some compassion and gave her another ten minutes to clean herself up. She had to buy new clothes at employee rates to change into and before her minutes were up, she was back at work, clean, dry, and hungry.

She didn't even remember what he looked like because she only saw him from waist down as she was on the floor while he stood towering over her. When a strange young man joined the queue, she didn't know it was the same man who had knocked her down. He waited patiently for people in front of him to finish then approached the counter and placed a paper bag in front of her. She looked at him inquisitively. He smiled, again, and said, "I figured you may still be hungry." And left.

The man who had knocked her down, was going to knock her up one day. But she didn't know it then.

Fast forward.

Thursday they shopped. "Look, we can afford to get you a bigger bed. There's enough space in the room for one."

She continued without giving him a chance to answer. "I remember when your dad and I went shopping for your bed. We were amazed at how quickly you'd outgrown the crib. We wondered how soon you'd outgrow the bed. I'm sorry he's not here today." She looked down and bit the corner of her lip.

Alan reached over and took her hand then released it, put his arm around his mother's shoulders and pulled her towards him. He kissed her forehead. "I know."

"You do?" As soon as the question left her lips, she realized that of course he did. He knew through that special mode of communication they had developed between them. Her loss was also his loss and her emptiness had its reflection in his chest as well. They had learned not to open the wound and there she was scraping the crust a little. "I am sorry."

He kissed her forehead again and pulled her against his body as shelter. She shifted, put her arm around his waist and briefly laid her head on his shoulder. The bandage was being applied before the bleeding started. For that moment their world was each other and the rest of the world moved around them.

They rejoined it. As they turned to walk to another store, his hand slipped from her shoulder, down across her back, accidentally touched her and then he took her hand. Alan remembered the soft feel of her breasts pressed against him a few moments earlier and now the warm feel of her butt across his fingers. He entwined his fingers with his mother's to squeeze the shaking out of his hand. She squeezed back equally and she knew he was thinking about her and the touch. Both of them were looking down the storefronts.

"Thank you." She said it quietly. She squeezed once more and slowly pulled her fingers away. The touch had its own affect on her. It was an accidental touch, but it was not the touch of her son. It was the touch of a man who was comforting her. The intimacy of their sharing had appeared in that touch and her body responded to it with a strange understanding.

He was looking off to the side when she looked up. He didn't see her eyes; didn't know she was looking; didn't know how she was looking at him.

She took his arm. "Is this okay?"


"Here's where I wanted to go," Elizabeth said as she directed Alan into the store entrance.

Her prince had brought her to the very same store when he first moved into his own place. She was by then his woman and he wanted her to help pick a bed --- their bed --- although she was nowhere near the realization that he was making future plans for both of them. He knew where he was headed. She didn't. Life was too short to conquer the world and she didn't know where to start; couldn't start because she didn't have the resources; never started because the world was not for the conquering, as she learned after years of hoping, and failing without even trying. He knew it from the beginning and never tried; didn't need to try; he knew his place in the world and he knew her place in his life. She refused to accept anything.

Memories weighed her down. "I'm going to wait here and let you look around. When you've got some idea of what you want, let me know." She sat down on a bed near the front of the display and leaned against the headboard. Alan wandered without any pattern among the beds on display, occasionally drawing his hand across one of the headboards. Amazingly, the headboards had the softness of his mother's behind.

A saleswoman moved so that Alan's path would take him directly to her.

"First time buying a bed on your own?"

"Yeah. No. Yeah, I guess. My mom's at the front but I'm trying to find something. I don't know. I'm just looking, I guess." He didn't like how it sounded when he told the saleslady that he was with his mom. It somehow at that moment didn't sound right.

She knew how to handle his type. She moved in closer. Close enough that Alan noticed and felt the change. "Single or double? Something a bit funky or something that will fit anywhere? Once we've decided that, we can talk about prices and delivery dates. Come with me. Let's check out the doubles. We have selected samples on the floor and I've got a complete catalogue back at my desk."

Elizabeth watched. She was too far away to hear any of the conversation but she didn't need to hear it. The saleswoman's body language said it all. She regretted sitting down. She should have been with him. To do what? She couldn't say. But she should have been with him, that she knew.

"I'm losing the child he was, now I'm losing the man he will be," Elizabeth thought as she watched the two of them walk from one bed to another. She couldn't tell if it was a sigh of sorrow, of loss, or simply of defeat that escaped her lungs.

Alan moved to put some distance between himself and the saleswoman. She should have been with him so he didn't have to do that. She could have been the distance between him and the woman. Why? She didn't know that either.

She was with her prince when a similar lady had tried to sell him a bed. Her saleswomanship had hit a snag with Elizabeth as the extra variable. This was another situation where she should have been that extra variable, as a mother of course, and Alan would be spared the cheap tricks of the saleswoman.

Alan had the saleswoman show him several additional display beds, who then hovered over him as they went through the catalogue. After several more minutes, Alan stood up abruptly. His eyes made a fleeting, final inventory of the saleswoman and everything she was offering. "No, not today, I think. Nothing here that really makes me say 'I want this one!'"

He walked back to his mother. She stood up and they talked quietly as Alan pointed in the direction of a couple of beds. "In our house," he said, "you've always had class. Class on a budget, but class nevertheless. She couldn't show me anything with class. We'll have to look somewhere else."

Maybe her prince didn't need the extra variable either. But that was a different time, a different scenario, and Elizabeth with different insecurities.

"Are you working Saturday?"

"Not until 3:00. Can we go looking in the morning?"

At home, Elizabeth turned the key in the latch to let themselves in. After she closed and locked the door, she turned to Alan, impulsively put her arms around his neck and held him close for a few moments. Then she faced him, put her hand on his upper arm to pull him closer and then kissed him on his cheek. "Night, sweetheart."

"Night, mom." He returned the kiss then wrapped his arms around her shoulders pulling her towards him. "Thanks. Saturday."

"Saturday." She hugged him back and felt the strength in his body. She let her body relax against his and held him close to her for longer than necessary. She tilted her head back and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "Don't stay up too late."

Elizabeth turned and walked from the room. Alan looked at her back as she moved away and instinctively his eyes focused on the area that he had touched earlier. His heart skipped a beat. Just like the view while they were fixing his bed, he realized that what he was seeing was not what he used to see.

Alan's thoughts turned to how fragile she felt in his arms and how he wanted to hold her just a little longer. Why? He couldn't say. This shopping for bed was an experience that had made him want to hold her longer --- and tighter. He was declaring that he was a grownup, and he had done something that grownups normally do. He had gone shopping for a bed with his mother; actually grownups don't do that. He had gone shopping with a woman, one could even say with the woman in his life, as she was the only woman in his life. But it didn't seem right. It was not a fulfilling experience. It didn't have the intimacy that grownup couples, man and woman, would have shopping for a bed. It didn't feel as good as it should have felt and he wanted to hold her a little longer and a little tighter to feel grownup. The boy needed his mommy to make him feel grownup. He felt pissed. He stayed up late, pissed at himself, and fell asleep angry.

It was somewhere between that half-asleep, half-awake state when he also realized about the softness that his mother had pressed against his chest.
On Saturday Alan found a bed and dresser set he liked. Even better, it was at a price his mother liked. Elizabeth took his arm as they left the furniture store and headed across the mall to a store that dealt only in mattresses and mattress sets.

"Soft, medium or firm?" the salesman asked. She didn't miss the difference she felt in her heart at Alan dealing with a salesman as opposed to a saleswoman.

"I don't know. Mom, how do you like it?"

"I prefer a firm one," she said. The voice was casual but Alan thought he noticed a fleeting smile.

Alan looked directly at his mother. "Ok, let's look at some firm ones then."

The dialogue was the same, only roles were reversed. She was playing the part of the prince and Alan was the princess, her, in this remake of the classic.

The salesman had already turned toward some display mattresses that they could check. If he noticed the innuendo he made no indication. He probably didn't. Alan had called her mom and no innuendo in the world can exist when the person being addressed is a mom. He walked them to the back of the store and identified a pair that had different construction techniques and suggested they try them out.

"Go ahead, Alan."

He sat on the edge and then lay down on the bed and carefully placed his shoes on the plastic protector at the foot of the mattress. He moved around a bit, tried rolling over on to his side and then on to his back again.

"Seems okay to me. What do you think?" He slid towards the middle of the mattress as his mother sat down on the edge and bounced gently. She motioned for him to slide over further, which he did, and she lay back. Alan had only moved part way across so when she was lying down, the back of her hand touched his. Alan moved over further but left his hand momentarily touching hers before finally placing it across his chest.

There was jerkiness in his motion that didn't fail to register in Elizabeth's mind. The touch wasn't as intimate as his hand on her butt cheek, but it was intimate considering they were lying next to each other in a bed, in a position that usually couples assume when in bed together. Her prince had actually turned and climbed on top of her to see how the bed would really feel. She had died of embarrassment but the saleswoman had just smiled. Apparently that was not something new for her.

"If this were my mattress, it would be fine. But it's still your choice."

"Well, you know more about these things than I do, but if this is firm enough in your opinion then it'll be fine for me, too."

Elizabeth felt angry. She didn't like the experience of shopping with her son as the memories of her prince danced in her head. This was her son. That was her prince. The situations were totally different. She should not superimpose one on the other, whatever direction. And there was the real problem. Superimposition in whatever direction. It was one thing to remember her prince when shopping with Alan, but why on God's earth did she look towards Alan and expected him to climb on top of her? Did she want him to climb on top of her? It would have made the scene as authentic as the original, even though there was a salesman instead of a saleswoman, but for heaven's sake, Alan on top of her? How ludicrous?

Elizabeth felt rather subdued when they left the store. Alan realized the dejectedness. He probably knew the reason as well, most likely subconsciously. He took her hand but she did not relax it to let it shape itself to be easily held. He let it go. She felt even worst. What was happening to her?

"I'm sorry..." Alan apologized to her. Then added as an afterthought, "...mom."

She slowly took his hand in hers and squeezed it, then took it out of his and linked it through his arm. He looked over at her and smiled. "You're pretty cool, you know."

Reassurance at just the right time, which was enough to change her mood.

They shopped for the sheets and then returned home. Alan rushed to his bedroom to change for work and then came back downstairs. Elizabeth had made a small lunch. They ate and talked and then Alan took the dirty dishes to the sink, washed them and put them on the draining board. After drying his hands he turned to Elizabeth and hugged her. "Thanks for showing me the ropes. Nice to have your company, too."

Elizabeth put her arms around Alan, not because she wanted to but because she needed to.

"I actually enjoyed it. I'm not a big fan of shopping. I do it because I have to and not because I want to. It was nice having someone to chat with." She turned her face away and gently laid her head on his shoulder. Alan felt her hair move against his face and then rested his head on hers. They stood there like that for a while, Alan getting warmth from her soft breasts and getting aroused by the smell of her hair, and Elizabeth soaking in his strength and feeling excited by his erection pressing slightly into her thigh. When the pressure increased somewhat, he broke the hug quickly. "Gotta go or I'll be late."

Elizabeth stood there listening to his receding footsteps. She was smiling but her eyes felt heavy and wet. What would the man do now? What would the boy do now?

There is a picture tucked away in her drawer of memories, as she calls it, where her prince is holding her in his arms. They are standing in water as the camera captured the sweet loving expression on their faces with beautiful span of the ocean as a backdrop. They were on their honeymoon and had found enough time to go frolicking on the beach. There was love in their hearts and hope of a bright future in their eyes.

Whenever she looked at that picture, as she found herself doing after Alan left, she felt herself transported back in time. She would see herself with him in the picture and feel the water on her feet as his hands closed around her waist. She could swear that she felt his heartbeat on her back each time she held that picture in her hands. Laughter echoed in her ears and his touch filled her heart with the energy and passion he had for her at that moment in the picture. Yes, time stood still for them when they were there and it stood still for her whenever she found herself visiting that site. She could practically walk into that ocean from her room and take her place in the picture even after all these years. The smell of the ocean came to her nostrils as she immersed herself in the scene.

The picture was alive and she lived that day each time not only in her memory but in her present as well. Whenever she looked at it, she didn't look at a faded print but a living, breathing ocean with living breathing prince and princess standing in its water, holding each other with the gentleness of the wind that was creating waves on the surface that crashed at their feet. The experience was real, the faces were real, and the tears were real. She could touch him as she had done for many years and she could feel the bumps on his skin as she had done while he slept in the bed those many years ago.

That picture was a live scene framed with white edges of the paper and deep set into its texture.

The following weekend, Alan, with occasional assistance from Elizabeth, painted the room with two coats, assembled the bed and put new sheets on it. Both days were hot and by the end of Sunday afternoon, Alan was covered in a light sheen of sweat. He finished a few touch-ups, stood in the doorway to admire the results, and called his mother.

She came up behind and looked over his shoulder into the room. "Nice job. Very nice job. You can be quite pleased with yourself." From behind, she wrapped her arms around his chest and pulled herself to him.

"I'm all sweaty."

"I know. But I don't care." Alan felt something in his heart, a certain kind of warmth. He had never expected any woman, including his mother, to hug him so carelessly when he was soaked in his own perspiration.

"You are weird," was all he could say.

She kissed the nape of his neck and said, "More weird than you think."

They both laughed. "You've done a fine job on your room, Alan. I think you should be rewarded for such good work."

"Well, a proper hug would do." He sounded mischievous.

"I was thinking more like a special meal that I could cook for you, but hug seems to be an easy way out, so here goes." She turned around his body and came in front of him. She placed her arms around his waist and moved into him.

He wrapped his long arms around her and placed his hands around the small of her back. "Shoot, if I knew you meant a special meal, I would've asked for lasagne."

"Too late buddy," She looked up into his face as she felt his hands move on her back. He kissed her forehead and as he leaned down for the kiss, his hands moved onto the top of her butt. She didn't know if it was a deliberate move or if it was just a natural result of their closeness, but she was aware of his hands on her ass.

She reached up to kiss him back. She had to stand on her toes to reach his lips and as she touched them with hers, she felt his hands caress her butt cheeks, lightly, but firmly.

I shouldn't have done that, she thought to herself. But it was too late to do anything about it and there was nothing else she could do but come back down. His hands moved back up onto the small of her back. "We could order pizza though," she chirped.

"Oh mom, you are the best." He leaned down and tightened his arms around her to give a full hug. Her breasts pressed into his chest and he squeezed her into himself. He held her there for a while before letting go of her and then his hands rested just above her butt, making small caressing moves. She held herself against him, wondering what to do.

His moves were uncertain. He really didn't know what to do or even what he could do. He was testing the waters, so to speak. Nudging the line a little, just to see what he could get away with. She was his mother and she knew him well enough to let him go only so far where he won't get hurt. The boy was trying to be a man and the mother was trying to keep the boy in line so he won't get hurt.

It was probably the adrenalin from such hard work, or the sense of accomplishment from finishing something even his father never dared to do. Maybe it was the need of a woman to validate his being grownup, or just machismo leaking out of his limbs. She couldn't imagine Alan feeling Elizabeth. It had to be the man feeling the woman around his house, or around his domain. There was no denying that he needed to express that side of himself, but he couldn't use her as the outlet of his expression. That would demean who she was, mother or woman, didn't matter. Either way, it wasn't supposed to happen that way.

"I see you are feeling a bit frisky."

"Sorry, can't help it. It is so easy to get carried away with you."

There, he had made a bold --- grownup --- statement and she appreciated his honesty. At the same time his honesty put an end to the possibilities. He had to treat her like his mother; nothing else was acceptable. The relationship required a certain amount of respect which would wither away if she became anything else. She couldn't become anything else. She was his mother, period.

"Well, you better keep your hormones in check. There are limits, you know."

He pulled away abruptly. "Sorry, mom. It is just this being man of the house kind of thing."

She knew Alan's wants and she knew, even if he didn't, that he wasn't ready. He was a boy, even though he had passed the teen part of his life. He was her son, her boy, and her responsibility until he stood on his own. Alan, she knew, didn't understand any of this. And as long as she was the adult and he was not, he would never understand.

Alan was under the influence and he needed to be deflated. He was like a kettle of milk about to boil, but once boiled, it would be nothing but regret and guilt. He needed to simmer until he matured to a level where he could control the spilling out part when coming to a boil. He didn't know the prize, yet he was looking for the game to come to a head. He wasn't ready for the gift that he was trying to unwrap. He needed to be taught, but she couldn't be the tutor. She was the parent; that in itself was bad enough, without having to add another dimension to it. Put simply, she wasn't the one. His wants required someone else and his needs belonged to another.

There were her wants, too, and they couldn't be satisfied by a boy. Her needs were a woman's and required a confident, self-assured, experienced man. She had tried with a boy once and helped him become a man. Along the way, she had lost herself and the woman that she became wasn't the woman she wanted to become. But that was another lifetime. There was no going back.

She left before awkwardness filled the room. The feel of his big hands on her buttocks went with her.

Alan brought his old bed down into the living room and placed it in front of the TV. He needed to sleep out of his room until the smell of paint became bearable. When Alan came down after showering and dressing, he had expected the pizza to have arrived. There was no pizza waiting for him. Elizabeth had changed into some nicer outfit and had applied a teensy bit of makeup as well. She was waiting for him at the door. "Let's go for that pizza."

"I thought you were going to order in," he said.

"No, it will be fun to eat it in the pizza joint."

The outing for pizza turned into pizza and movie. They didn't come back until after midnight. It was a pleasant change of routine for Elizabeth who hadn't been to the movies in a long time. Alan was a good companion. He was funny, thoughtful, and gentlemanly. Things that the young men of today don't even know about, except the funny part, of course. What she noticed the most about his demeanour was how gentle it was.

Alan enjoyed himself, despite the reprimand. His mother was right, he knew that. Why did he even let himself get that carried away, he couldn't explain, but it seemed like the right thing to do. He wasn't sorry for doing it; he was just sorry that his mother reacted negatively to it. But, water under the bridge. The movie made him forget all about it.

He freshened up, changed into his usual night clothes, shorts and T-shirt, and started flipping through the channels in his old bed. He felt a bit nostalgic about the bed and had this uneasy feeling about getting rid of it. Soon he was engrossed in a show, so the bed lost its importance. He didn't even notice when his mother came down and slid into bed with him.

When he felt her hand on his side, he looked over his shoulder to acknowledge her presence. "Couldn't sleep?" He asked nonchalantly.

"No. I was feeling a bit restless, so I thought I join you for a short while. What you watching?"

"Benny Hill."

"Oh, I like that show. I didn't know it was back on."

They both started to watch the show together. She had to raise herself up a little to see the TV because of his shoulders blocking it from her view. She leaned on him for support and sort of balanced herself on his torso to be comfy.

Alan became aware of the soft breasts pressing into his back the instant Elizabeth relaxed. He tensed up as a result. The sweet and tender feelings were quite overwhelming for him and he remembered the reprimand. He couldn't enjoy those feelings because that was in itself crossing the line she had mentioned to him earlier. But it wasn't humanly possible to ignore the feelings either. Whether he wanted to or not, the signals from her breasts to his back eventually ended up in that part of his brain that directs the flow of blood to his genitals. As hard as he tried to focus his mind on the show, his penis kept getting harder, slowly but steadily. Elizabeth squirmed every now and then and her breasts caressed his back. His penis reacted to each caress by enlarging, until he finally had to reach in and fix his erection because it was becoming uncomfortable.

Elizabeth noticed the movement of his arm and knew what he was doing. She suddenly realized how hard her breasts were pressed into his back and how they had caused his body to react. "Should I move," she asked.

"No, I am okay." He didn't know that she knew about his erection. So she stayed. The best course of action was to ignore the situation.

Only if Alan could do that. His erection continued to harden. Of course there was a limit to that as well and he reached that limit rather quickly. At that stage he couldn't keep his penis held between his thighs. It had enough strength to break free. With his cock loose and throbbing, his brain started to sugarcoat things to suit the situation.

Sure, those were the breasts of his mother, but they felt like breasts of any woman. Actually, his mother had better than average breasts, larger than average in size and round and supple in shape. He wasn't responding to his mother's breasts. He was responding to breasts, period. The fact they were attached to his mother meant nothing. The only thing he needed to be aware of was that there were these, soft and warm breasts pressed into his back. If he got hard as a result, it was okay, because he wasn't hard because of his mother. He was hard because of the feel of those breasts. Yeah, they belonged to his mother but they were generic breasts in his mind to lessen the guilt about his generic erection.

Elizabeth realized that his body had gone all tense and she decided to call it a night. There were those limits and she didn't want to push him over the edge. First erection --- sorry, reaction --- was caused by her inadvertently, but now that she knew what the reaction was, a continuous stimulation of that part of his brain was wrong.

"Good night, son."

"Good night, mom."

Neither looked at the other as Elizabeth quietly went to her room and he continued watching TV.

Elizabeth stayed up late that night trying to figure out how the one way stimulation that her breasts caused to his body, was actually a two way stimulation. His body had pressed her breasts firmly and she realized after she was in bed how his shoulder blades [he had rather wide shoulders, she also noticed] had firmly caressed --- pressed --- her breasts, almost like it were his strong hands on her breasts, hand that those shoulders supported so in a way it was not too much of a stretch.

She couldn't shake from her head as she tried to sleep, the thought that she was only a foot away from a fully erect, hard [as a rock] cock. By the time she actually fell asleep, her son had grown a few notches in her mind.

Fast rewind.

The first time her prince touched her breasts, she expected fireworks. He was a bit clumsy, a bit rough, but he wanted it and she wanted it, so together they enjoyed it. It wasn't an experience to remember, except may be the pinches or the hard squeezes. But, as time went by and as she learnt that she could direct him to do anything and there was no shame in letting him know what worked and what didn't, it became a beautiful experience. She enjoyed his hands cupping her breasts and applying even pressure on them from all directions. She didn't much care for rolling or kneading as the motion of his hands didn't fire enough neurons or the right neurons to make it worthwhile for her.

She liked the gentle but firm pressure as he pressed them down into her chest and massaged them from all sides. This, coupled with slow and gently kisses, made her warm and fuzzy all over --- and wet. He always tried to move away from her breasts and get into her pants, but she didn't enjoy the pants part as much when she finally relented, after much begging and pleading. She liked his begging and pleading though, because she learnt the power of sex and how it worked in the politics of a relationship.

She almost always made him beg for it and whenever he was given the opportunity to explore her wetness with his penis, he basically boiled like the milk kettle. There was so much excitement in him that he couldn't contain himself. There were no fireworks there either but he went like a cracker anyways.

The memories of her sexual experiences always involved how much he enjoyed it and she was happy that her prince enjoyed having sex with her so much. That meant her prince didn't need to look around for something better, she was the best he had.

Fast forward.

Elizabeth put a couple of cans of beer, some plates, napkins and other items on a low coffee table in front of the TV. She was watching it and idly flicking through the channels looking for something to act as background while she waited for Alan.

He brought the pizza into the family room, set it down on the table, and sat down on the sofa next to his mother. They had decided to order in this time.

Between bites of pizza they chatted about Alan's shift and continued to change channels. They finally settled on a movie. At the first commercial break Alan took the remains of the pizza and the dirty dishes to the kitchen. When he returned, his mother was sitting with her legs up on the coffee table leaning back into the sofa and holding the channel changer.

"Still commercials," he said and reached for the changer. Elizabeth wouldn't let it go so they tussled momentarily until the movie was back on. Alan hadn't completely given up trying to grab the changer so he continued to have one hand holding his mother's which was wrapped around the changer. He felt the warmth in her hand and unconsciously moved closer to her.

They watched "The Summer of '42". Alan knew the plot and glanced quickly to see if his mother already knew what was happening in the movie. If she knew, she hid her knowledge and was quietly enjoying the story as it was developing. When the commercials came on, she changed position to sit closer to her son. Alan moved to put his arm around her shoulders and Elizabeth adjusted herself slightly to fit her body against his.

"It's a sad movie," he said.

"And happy."

"And happy. But sad, too."

It was the story of three boys coming of age and a wife of a serviceman who was away taking part in the war. One boy in particular found himself falling in love with the young wife, and the lonely young wife was caught in a war of her own, between her head and her heart. The movie was a tender and insightful look into the fears, misconceptions, and ignorance of the growing boys as they fumbled their way toward adulthood. At the same time, it was a heartfelt study of the youth and innocence of a woman who became a victim of circumstances that were beyond her control and the insecurities and conflicted emotions that tore at her soul.

They became engrossed in the film. Alan could identify with Hermie, the young man falling for the young wife. He even wished that he had such a lovely woman in his life. Was it a lovely woman or a woman in need of his strength?! She was loveable and he found himself feeling exactly what the young man in the movie must have felt. The longing, the pain, the pleasure, and the heartbreak. Towards the end, he actually hated the hero for being lucky enough to experience such love.

Elizabeth could understand what the young wife was going through. She was there without her prince but she so much wanted to be with him. Her prince was out of reach, gone for all practical purposes, maybe never to come back. Elizabeth saw the cracks in her heart and the need to fill the void with something, anything, that would stop the bleeding and reduce the pain. Imagine then coming across a possible solution, a replacement of sorts for the prince. Not that she wanted to replace the prince, but if she did, it would be him. Wanting, not wanting; yearning, not yearning. Love was possible to feel for more than one man yet the intensity of the second love was manifold after the loss of the first. The loss was not so much real as it was probable. It wasn't imminent but odds were strongly going in that direction. The possibility of the loss made her suffer more than had it been real. A drowning person was clinging to anything that came along to be able to stay afloat until safety of the marriage were to make itself visible, or until Elizabeth had accepted the loss of her prince and made the decision to move on with her life.

It startled her to think that she was actually the woman in the movie. She didn't want anyone to know her thoughts, so she froze in her spot and tried to determine if Alan could tell what was going on in her head. That's when she became aware of her hand resting on his thigh. His hand had slipped down and was resting all the way down on her hip.

Both were so much into the movie that they sat quietly even during the commercial breaks. When the female lead started dancing with the young male lead, Elizabeth chose to shift her position and move against her son. When the characters kissed Elizabeth looked up and found herself looking at Hermie. Alan noticed the movement and turned to look at her. Elizabeth's eyes were asking a question. He bent down and tentatively touched his lips against hers. Unsure, he moved his head back as quickly as he had brought it down.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and moved her face slightly towards him. The movement was subtle, but noticeable. Alan's heart jumped into his throat as he realized that the young wife had offered her lips to Hermie. He tried to relax and brought his quivering lips down onto hers. He just held them against his mother's lips and then pulled back just a little. She instinctively moved her face towards his and kissed him so very gently. Encouraged by the response and somewhat in control of his sudden fever, he kissed her back. His lips held her upper lip and tugged on it a little. Her mouth opened slightly and the wetness from the front inside of her mouth transferred to his lower lip.

Elizabeth opened her eyes and looked into his. She mouthed the words "thank you", smiled and nestled against him. He licked the wetness from his lips and tasted his mother's saliva. It was sweet.

When the movie ended, they were so much affected by the story that they sat there still mesmerized. Unconsciously, Elizabeth's hand started to move slightly on his thigh as his drew small circles on her side. They would have stayed like that for a long time if it wasn't for him having to reach and fix his erection yet again. Elizabeth uncurled herself from the sofa and from Alan's arm, switched off the TV and headed up the stairs. After climbing a few steps, she turned to him and uttered a soft "good night".

Alan heard her move quickly up the stairs and then heard a door, her bedroom door, close firmly. Elizabeth wanted to see her prince and to be with him. The desire was so strong that she yanked open her drawer of memories and reached for the picture desperately. He was there; so was she. Smiling. Happy. She stepped into the water with him and felt his heartbeat on her back. She felt calm and collected. The storm had passed. All was at it had always been.

She brought the picture to her night stand and placed it in such a way that she could look at it as she drifted to sleep. She kept looking at it until her dreams took her to him yet once again.

A damp patch had spread through from Alan's underwear to his jeans. He reached down and adjusted his erection again and the touch of his hand on his penis felt good. As he climbed each stair he gently rubbed his erection enjoying the rushes of pleasure that he received. At the top of the stairs he looked at his mother's bedroom door and then turned and walked to his bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he went.

Inside his bedroom, he undressed completely, turned out the lights and climbed into bed. His hands moved to his groin. One played with his erection and the other teased his testicles. He was already so very close. He thought first of the young wife and then of Elizabeth. This was a wrong time to bring Elizabeth into the picture so he went back to the young wife. Why had she disappeared like that? Elizabeth that is.

He stroked gently trying to delay his orgasm but also wanting to feel the growing sensations as he got closer and closer. The young wife changed into Elizabeth and he jerked the picture out of his head. The young wife came back. Her saliva had tasted very sweet. He wished he could have tasted a bit more, but that was wrong. Jerked in the young wife again.

His hand moved faster up and down his penis. Not yet. Slower. But he moved faster. His excitement rose as he thought of the kiss, no of the young wife. No, not yet. Not yet. His back arched. Elizabeth was saying, "good night". He tried to remember how she looked but he couldn't bring it to his thoughts. Now! Now! Now! The waves of his orgasm sent tremors through his body and the spurts of cum flew across his chest. Now! Now!

His body relaxed as the tension was released. In the darkness he saw his mother's face. When he reached out to touch it, there was nothing there. He felt uneasy, even restless. He usually only masturbated when the fire was too much and he had to extinguish it. The fire hydrant worked this time but the fire stayed lit. He felt empty, unfulfilled.

Fast forward to the following weekend.

Elizabeth decided to treat Alan to home baked lasagne. By the time dinner was ready, Alan had showered and changed. He walked into the kitchen asking, "Beer? Wine? Perrier?"

"A glass of wine would be nice."

Throughout dinner they chatted and discussed inconsequential items with transient gravity and then followed that with some laughter. Alan got up, cleared the table and brought back dessert. When they had finished Alan looked over and said "Thanks. That was good."

"Yes, it was." Elizabeth put her hand on the table and Alan reached over to hold it.

"Anything on TV?"

"I'll find out."

Alan got up and moved the remaining dishes to the sink. As he washed, dried and put them away, he could hear Elizabeth in the other room roaming the channels. On impulse, he started the kettle to make a pot of tea and got out a pair of mugs.

Alan switched out the kitchen lights as he walked into the family room and sat down next to his mother. She saw the teapot and mugs. "Oh! Good idea."

"Only for you." He started pouring. "So ... anything on?"

"Not really."

"Gotta be something." Alan handed her a mug and took the channel changer. He keyed in several different channels. "Nope, nothing. I suppose we could watch a video or I could put on a couple of CDs. Any preference?"

"How about a CD or two? Just a background-something, okay?" Alan put several CDs into the player, pressed several buttons and, after a few moments, and at low volume, the music came up. Elizabeth listened for a bit, then smiled at him. "Thanks."

She leaned back into the sofa, rested her legs on the low coffee table and closed her eyes to shut out everything except the music. When the track finished the changer made a slight noise as it randomly chose the next CD and track. They stopped talking waiting for the noise to finish.

They listened to the music in silence. Their thoughts were somewhere else as their bodies rested on the sofa, he on one end of it and she on the other.

The evening kept moving.

Alan went back to the TV after a few more tracks. He muted the sound and started flipping through the channels as the music played in the background. They watched in silence as the eyes and ears worked independently. Nothing caught their fancy. Alan shut the TV off again.

"You are very quiet today," Elizabeth, the adult, was the first to break the silence.

"Sorry, my mind seems to be somewhere else." Alan, the young man, replied.

"And where that might be, if I may ask?" Elizabeth tried to make light of the silence.

"That is the problem. I don't know exactly where." Alan, the young adult, confessed.

"Now, that is a problem." Elizabeth, the adult, answered. But she knew where his mind was. She chose not to help him out though. Alan had to sort things out for himself.

Alan got up and went to his room. Soon after Elizabeth got tired of the music and turned the CD player off and started flipping through TV channels again. Something definitely was wrong as she found her mind somewhere else as well.

She went to the kitchen to do something mundane.

Alan came back down and found some sitcom on TV that he considered worth watching. Elizabeth heard the TV and came back to join him. She was feeling a bit better after idling in the kitchen.

Another sitcom followed. Elizabeth made tea for both of them and nestled into him with her cup as he took his. He finished his tea and put his arm around her as they both watched the TV in silence.

"I think I am going to turn in," she announced as soon as that show was over. She turned towards him after pulling herself away and kissed him gently on the lips. "Good night."

"Good night," he mumbled. She took the dishes to the kitchen and decided to wash them and put them away. She went upstairs and changed into her pyjamas. She heard the soft sound of the TV coming to her room and she couldn't lie still in her bed. She came back down and joined him again on the sofa. He placed his arm around her as before.

When the Letterman show started, they knew there was something they could finally get into and relaxed. Their minds also became somewhat more focused. Between the jokes and interviews, they found themselves nestled into each other quite deeply. Her hand was on his thigh and his slightly caressing her hips and making its move towards the cheeks.

She started to reciprocate his caresses by caressing his thigh and continued even after he adjusted his erection. By now that had become a routine so it didn't matter the same way as before.

When the show ended, they both knew it was time to turn in. She got up and onto her knees as she kissed him goodnight again. This time the kiss lingered a little due to forward pressure on her body as her knees pressed down into the sofa.

She got up first and bent over the coffee table to arrange the remote and the TV Guide, but mostly to prolong the minutes. She really didn't want to leave just yet. He just watched her. He saw his mother through sperm filled eyes and realized that there was one heck of a woman in front of him.

He got up and stretched. She raised her body up, looked at him and then felt like placing her arms around him as his were raised above his head. He lowered them onto her shoulders and held her a bit awkwardly, but affectionately. She pressed herself into him to feel the comfort of his muscular built. His hands started to move up and down on her back.

She looked up after a while and he looked down when he felt her face lift; then he kissed her nose. She raised herself onto her toes and kissed his lower lip softly. Inadvertently, her breasts traced a line across his chest. He kissed her back. This was the first time they kissed each other mutually and there was a movement of the lower jaws, causing the lips to open a little. She was in no hurry to go, so she buried her face in his chest and rested her body against his. His hands stayed on her back.

Conan had started his monologue and they listened to it as they held each other like that. Alan cuddled her body in his arms. She hugged him a little longer and then pulled back. "I better go before I fall asleep in your arms."

He laughed and then with the confidence of a man, he reached down and gave her a real kiss. Soft and gentle. And masculine. Not hard and aggressive, not invading. Masculine. Confident. Certain.

With a final goodnight he released her and motioned for her to move. As she moved, his hand stayed on her back and they both walked away from the coffee table that way. He took one or two longer steps, came even with her side and then moved ahead of her. As he moved past her, his hand moved down on her back and rested firmly on her buttocks. It was not just a caress; he actually held her butt in his hands and pressed on it. She felt a tinge of unease at first, followed by a sensation of being under a spell, and eventually the relaxing of her muscles and giving in to his big, strong, firm hands. He gave a pat and moved way ahead and climbed the stairs two steps at a time.

The pressure of his big hand stayed on her ass as long as she stayed awake. She found herself back in the water with her prince. Only that night, she felt his heartbeat on her back and Alan's hand squeezing her buttock. She had to turn the picture down on the nightstand before she could fall asleep because she read a complaint in her prince's eyes. There was confusion in her mind; confusion that really had no name, but confusion nevertheless. She had trouble facing those eyes and she didn't like the fact that she had trouble facing those eyes.

The only word that can properly describe that confusion is guilt. There was guilt for liking the feel of those hands on her butt and there was guilt for masturbating --- again --- to his mother's image.

She was perturbed the next morning and had to put the picture back into her drawer of memories. He showed his first clear sign of maturity when he let her be. He must have understood what she was going through, she thought. It was so thoughtful of him to forget everything and make it like nothing unusual had happened, thus giving her the chance to recover and hopefully to face her prince again. He, on the other hand, was uncomfortable with his own image of coming while his mother's picture played in his eyes.

Next Saturday, as she contemplated staying in bed longer than usual, he barged in. She was scattered all over and scurried to collect herself. "Don't you think you should knock before coming in? I may not have been decent."

"Well, you aren't now either." He laughed.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes. "What's the emergency?"

"There's an outdoor art show in the park today. We don't wanna miss it."

"But I thought you had to go to work today?"

"Only for a few hours. I'll be back in plenty of time."

They drove to the outdoor art show around mid-afternoon and wandered around in a haphazard fashion. Life, when seen through the eyes of an artist, takes a whole new meaning, and that day was full of different visions of life. They paused for a long time in front of some exhibits and moved briskly through the others. Occasionally they were separated when one found more in an exhibit than the other and the other moved on.

After one such separation, Elizabeth feigned desperation and took Alan's hand. "That's the last time you're getting away from me!"

She squeezed his hand and spoke quietly into his ear. "I'm really glad you brought me to this. I hope you're enjoying it as well."

Alan looked at her, smiled and nodded. "Oops! Look out!" Alan reached out, grabbed the Frisbee that was sailing near them and flung it back. The motion, smooth flowing and almost effortless, sent the disc soaring off into the distance. Elizabeth recognized the casual athleticism and, in her mind's eye, saw her much younger self accompanied by her prince.

She took his hand again and they strolled past several exhibits until they got to a refreshment stand.

"Two lemonades, please."

"Hey, aren't you going to ask me first if I want lemonade or something else?"

"Nope," He replied while paying the vendor. The vendor smiled at his cocky attitude.

He took her hand again and they continued their random inspection as they sipped on their drinks. They walked past an exhibit where the artist had juxtaposed different things in a way that was blatantly sexual. Elizabeth squeezed Alan's hand to get his attention and nodded slightly to get him to look at the pieces.

Only when they were both looking at the pieces, hand in hand, with her head slightly leaning on his shoulder, did she start to feel the warmth of embarrassment. She had inadvertently brought the two of them into a situation that they really shouldn't have been. Her heart skipped a beat when the artist approached them and asked, "So, what do you guys think?"

It was guilt that made her pull herself away from Alan rather hurriedly. The fact that the artist was a young and brash cherry made it all the more uncomfortable. She felt like she had been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to be doing and there was the nun from her Sunday school coming down to thrash her.

Alan noticed the urgency in her conduct. He understood through their personal mode of communication the reason and decided to help her out. "So, Elizabeth, what do you think?"

She was mum. She knew that she was with her son, but the cherry probably thought otherwise. She was his mother but she was acting like his...his...she couldn't even say it to herself. The cherry must have looked down upon her and apparently she deserved it, so she thought. At the very least, the cherry must have seen an older woman with a younger man, and that also didn't come across that well.

"Very nice," Alan answered the artist with a broad smile.

Elizabeth felt even worst. She was with a younger man who was busy doting over the young artist. It was probably a tinge of betrayal that saddened her heart. What if she really was an older woman with a younger man and he chose to flirt with a young, nubile body? Imagine the insult.

Alan took her hand again and moved away, still smiling broadly.

She looked at him and said, "Very nice, meaning the art or the artist?" Her voice betrayed the hurt, slight as it may have been.

"Both," he said smugly. "Although I didn't like the 'in your face' approach. It wasn't so much sexy as it was crude. There is no room for crudeness in an act that is supposed to be tender sharing of two individuals with each other."

She pulled herself away from him and looked at him intently. "I can't believe how grownup that comment is!" She exclaimed.

"Well, I am not a little boy any more, mom, in case you didn't know." He was turning red.

"So, now it's 'mom', is it?"

"Okay, 'Elizabeth', then." He said her name with heavy emphasis. "By the way, the artist was really nice. Nice body, I suppose, and a pretty face. But, I'd rather be with you, though."


"Yeah, you." He reached over and messed her hair a little. "You little insecure thing, you!"

She slapped his arm and protested "I am not insecure." Then she took a few quiet steps while trying to calm her nerves after being so caught by him. She felt embarrassed and excited at the same time. He was awfully thoughtful as well.

"Let's say that I am 'Elizabeth' and not 'Mom'. Why me then and not her?"

"Can't explain it. Maybe it's your strength. You're restrained, controlled. Her artwork is supposed to be, for lack of a better word, 'her'. So look at it: flourishes and curlicues. Undisciplined. Is that what you'd draw?"

"No, I guess not. Not that I'm any good but I'd be a minimalist -- showing just enough to entice ... and entrance ... and enrapture ... and encapsulate ... to get the idea across. I'd want a patron who saw that and didn't need to have everything explained in step-by-step terms before he understood exactly what I was trying to do. I'd want him to sense where I was going and fill in the blanks by himself, to take charge of his interpretation. To take ownership of it."

Alan looked at her with amazement. "See!"

He also took a few quiet steps and then looked at her rather naughtily. "That was also a very grownup comment. So you too know about tender sharing of two individuals?"

"Well, I am not a little girl anymore either, 'son'," she emphasized the word 'son', "in case you didn't know."

"Oh, I know," he extended his arms towards her while panting like a dog. "Boy, do I know!" He came towards her with his tongue hanging out and hands ready to grab her body. She slapped him jokingly while pretending to run away from him. He gave a mock chase and the two of them fell to the ground laughing.

Elizabeth asked, "You want me over that tender, succulent body?"

"Pity we're in public."

Elizabeth felt her heart suddenly pound in her chest. She didn't know if he was still joking or if he had said that seriously. The look on his face was sober while his eyes were focused in a distance somewhere beyond the trees in the park.

They stayed in that contemplative mood for a while. Then she got up, knocked the grass off of her clothes, came in front of him and offered him her hand. As he got up with her help, she stared into Alan's eyes and realized she was aroused. The erotic art? The discussion? She knew it was neither.

"Why don't we go out somewhere for dinner? I know a place." She parted her lips slightly and looked at Alan. As he looked back she unconsciously bit her lower lip.

"I'd like that." He agreed softly.

They resumed walking, hand in hand. It was early evening when they left the exhibits and went back to the car. "That was a good afternoon. I'm glad you mentioned it."

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her fingers gently. "Yeah!"

As she pulled out of the parking spot she realized she was looking forward to the dinner.

For whatever reason, it was a quiet night at the restaurant. The diners were seated at scattered tables throughout the room. Elizabeth pointed to a table for four near a corner and next to a window that looked out on to a small park across the street and a waiter took them there. Initially they sat on opposite sides of the table. When Elizabeth indicated with her eyes that she wanted Alan sitting next to her, Alan changed seats.

They dined slowly, taking their time between courses. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they didn't. Sometimes they held hands, sometimes Alan would rest his hand on her thigh. Elizabeth paid the bill and they relaxed with their coffees.

"It's very dark outside," she said after about a year. "Time to get a move on back home."

Alan leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks for the dinner."

When they stood, Elizabeth put her arm in Alan's and they walked slowly back to the car. Her head was leaning on his shoulder all the way to the car. Alan opened the door for her on the driver's side and then got in on his side. Inside the car, Alan leaned over and Elizabeth turned to him. They kissed, opening their mouths and letting the wetness mix a little. "Thanks for dinner."

"You already said that." Her face broke into a smile. "But it's always nice to hear someone say 'thank you'. And I think that kiss said 'thank you', too, so I guess that's three times you've said 'thanks' for the dinner. Don't have to go overboard, you know." She felt she was jabbering on. Why was she so nervous, she wondered? No, not nervous; excited!

He took her hand in his and they sat there for a while. It was her who ultimately pulled it away and started the car. The trip coming home was travelled in complete silence.

At home, she dropped her keys onto the front table and placed her purse next to them. As she started to walk away, she stopped, picked up her purse and carried it to the foot of the stairs where she set it down. She busied herself doing several inconsequential tasks in the kitchen and realized she was just delaying.

She walked into the living room. Alan had closed the curtains and was standing in the middle of the room. He walked over to her.

Her excitement betrayed her first. Her voice quivered slightly when she suggested they might play a game of cards or something.

Alan said nothing. He simply pulled her close to him and moved to kiss her. Gently, with a promise. Elizabeth's lips parted and Alan moved to kiss her upper lip. Using his lips he nibbled on her lip and then repeated the motion on her lower lip. Elizabeth felt herself responding and she kissed back, her tongue seeking his. Instead of rushing through the awakening and the sensual arousal, they enjoyed exciting each other and gradually increasing their levels of pleasure.

When he moved his hand to her breast and cupped it, she suddenly came out of the trance. She withdrew abruptly and stuttered, "No. Stop."

His hand froze on her breast. She pulled herself away from him and stood there for a short while, confused. Then she quickly grabbed her purse and keys and ran upstairs to her room, while he just stood there watching her go.

She dropped her duvet onto the drawer of memories to hide herself away from her prince and fell face down onto her bed, sobbing. She didn't realize she had so many tears bottled up as it poured all night long.

She woke up with a strong headache and slight fever. Her body was aching and her mind was numb. She stayed in bed. Alan came up to see her and knew what she was going through. He brought her breakfast and some aspirin. She ate quietly and went back to crying. He brought her lunch. She ate quietly and went back to her misery. The tears were starting to dry up but the pain was still there.

He brought her dinner and her suffering started to turn into anger. Anger at the situation that had brought her so close to her son, when under normal circumstances it would have been impossible for the two of them to get so close. She felt betrayed by her prince, hurt by his absence. She so longed for circumstances to be normal.

Around midnight, when she felt all cried out, she heard Alan's footsteps coming towards her room. He lifted the sheet covering her and snuggled next to her. He quietly held her in his arms and silently comforted her.

She finally fell asleep so shielded by him from the rest of the world.

It took a few days for her to get over things and finally she managed to be with Alan as before. The duvet stayed on the drawer of memories.

The following Saturday, Alan took her to dinner. He wanted to treat her. The build-up to dinner was nowhere near what it had been previously, but the evening was enjoyable nevertheless. He was much more caring but also quite careful with his movements. She noticed it and felt bad for her reaction the other night. It was the right reaction; she was just sorry she had let it go that far.

After dinner, they took a nice stroll in the parking lot. The restaurant was right next to a mall with a movie theatre inside. On impulse, Alan started to move towards the mall and soon they found themselves at the tickets window. All the movies had already started playing. Alan picked the one that had started most recently and in they went.

She didn't even know what movie it was or what it was about. She just followed his lead as he dragged her in by pulling her hand, which had been in his ever since they came out of the restaurant.

They let their eyes adjust to the darkness and when they were able to make out silhouettes in the theatre, they realized there weren't that many people watching it. Alan led her to the right back corner and positioned himself on a seat. She slumped in next to him. Once they settled in, he turned towards her and pulled her from her shoulder to make her move towards him.

Instinctively she kissed him softly on the lips and let the kiss linger. "Thank you, darling."

"You're welcome." He kissed her back, letting his lips open and holding the kiss a little longer. "And thank you. For the kiss."

Alan pulled her close, reached and tilted her chin back. Her eyes were closed. He kissed her on the tip of her nose and then on her lips. She responded slightly and he kissed her again.

Then once more. Her emotions stirred and she parted her lips. Alan did the same and kissed her again. Longer, still gently. Less tentatively. His tongue reached out and tasted his mother's lips.

She felt the ache and the want rise within her. God he was handsome.

They kissed then paused and held each other and then kissed again. She felt so aroused, so alive, so wanted. Waves of pleasure and emotions washed over her. Her breasts were so sensitive that she thought she could feel every individual nerve impulse they were sending. But his hands weren't there. It seemed he was deliberately staying where she was comfortable. She relaxed and revelled in the sensations. Another kiss.

When they broke it she said "Mothers and sons don't usually do this." Her voice was neutral.

"I know. But they should, it is a lot of fun."

She laughed hard. Some silhouettes turned and someone whispered, "Shhh!"

"Sorry," she replied and then made herself comfortable in the seat. His joke had broken the mood, so to speak, so they started to watch the movie.

They walked back to the car, hand in hand, but with no spoken words, each thinking his or her own thoughts. Alan opened the door for her on the driver's side and then got into his seat. She put the key into the ignition turned it to auxiliary. Once the music started, she tilted the seat back until she was lying comfortably and just relaxed. He tilted his seat back enough to be able to see her face and then they both sat their quietly listening to the music. She was watching the light through the windshield and he was watching her.

She waited.

She didn't have to wait too long before he leaned over her and placed his lips on hers. He was just touching them softly and moving them around in a slow and gentle caress. His hand moved to her belly and started doing the same thing to her stomach. She closed her eyes and just took in the sensations emanating from all over her body. His warm breath was tingling her nerves around her face.

From her lips, he moved to her right cheek, which was closer to him. Same caressing with an occasional rub with the tip of his tongue. He continued this all over her face and then moved back to her lips. She opened them to invite a deeper kiss, but he moved away. He was teasing her and she was starting to get really warm.

Another round around her face and back to her lips. This time she was determined to get that kiss. She placed her hand behind his neck and held him in position while her lips melded with his. At first he tried to resist but then they both settled into one long, heavy, passionate kiss. They kissed hard, they kissed soft, they kissed with their tongues fully involved, and they kissed with only their lips pecking. It turned out to be a long make-out session with occasional breaks to catch their breaths and to rest their jaws. His hand stayed on her stomach all the while.

She was feeling good. She had never realized how good just kissing can be. She was aroused and she was wet, but there was no touching of the breasts or privates. She liked it. Pure and simple kissing without the burden of having the mind wander to other things.

He was quite collected. He showed no urgency for a young man and his hormones didn't try to spill over into her, as she knew it to be the case with men of his age. It was she who finally took his hand and placed it on her breast, letting him know that it was okay, that she was ready. That's when she became aware of his clumsiness.

He didn't really know what to do with them. As they settled into another long and passionate kiss, she guided his hand with her own and showed him how to play with his breasts, occasionally whispering into his ear to squeeze her nipple or to cup and press her breast in a certain way, using her hand on top of his to show how much pressure he needed to apply and how much area to cover in one continuous motion.

He was a fast learner. Soon his hand was delivering as much pleasure as his mouth was. Twice the pleasure, in stereo, she smiled with the thought. She was more in a position to receive than give and she was okay with it, as it seemed was he.

By the time they decided to get a move on, her seat was wet from all the juices dripping down through her panty and skirt. His balls were aching because of all the build up and his legs felt very weak. She couldn't keep her foot on the gas pedal as it was shivering with the cold excitement of the night.

Once back in the house, they rushed through the freshening up and met back in the living room. He held her in his arms and continued the kiss from the car. She responded and kissed back tasting him. Her mouth relaxed and she kissed him enjoying the stimulation. She broke the kiss, took the initiative and kissed him moving around his mouth so that this kiss was not like the last and would differ again in a moment. Alan understood and returned the kisses.

She relaxed and revelled in the sensations. Another kiss. She shifted again and held his face in her hands. Suddenly she kissed his lips several times in quick secession then kissed him hard. Her tongue moved against him. Hard. She broke the kiss and kissed him quickly on the forehead.

Elizabeth withdrew for a moment and Alan led her to the sofa. He settled into it and she straddled him. Alan had never seen something as sensuous as his mother spreading her legs around his and positioning her buttocks on his thighs. She whispered in his ear. "Ohhh, I love the way you kiss me. I can feel it all over me."

It was much more comfortable to talk in the security of her own home.

Alan moved and kissed her on the ear lobe. "Here?" He heard a sigh. On her neck. "Here?" A deeper sigh. On her lips. "Here?" She kissed him back hard.

He moved his hand to her breast and cupped it before moving his hand against it and then taking the nipple and giving it a slight tweak.


He again squeezed her breast and played with the nipple.

"Yes. Like that!" A pause. "Oh, god, yes. Like that. Oh, again! Ohhhh. Mmmmm." She kissed him back harder and moved her hand under his shirt and played with his chest. She found a nipple and squeezed it forcefully. Alan squeezed back the same way. "Ohhhh, yesssss."

Alan moved his hand so he could undo her bra. He fumbled briefly; she pulled away, quickly undid it and returned to kissing him. Alan moved his hand under her blouse to the bare breast. He caressed it gently at first and then, with a sureness and confidence he did not know he had, began to unbutton and remove Elizabeth's blouse. She discarded her bra. Alan put one hand on each of Elizabeth's shoulders and looked at Elizabeth's breasts. He moved his hands simultaneously toward them, held them both, caressed them both, played with both their nipples. He looked up and realized Elizabeth had been watching his face throughout. There was an expression on her face and Alan tried to fathom it. Want? Love? Challenge?

He bent over and tentatively kissed one breast. A second kiss. Another. He kissed the other breast while playing with a nipple. He placed the erect nipple between his lips and gently sucked while his tongue played with it."

A shiver ran through Elizabeth. She reached and started to pull Alan's t-shirt up over his chest. Alan moved so that she could pull it off over his head.

"I never thought. I never realized. God, you're gorgeous. You're fucking beautiful. How could I not have known? I didn't realize." He pulled her close and whispered his thoughts into Elizabeth's ear.

Elizabeth leaned back. She laughed quietly, "I'm glad you've realized now."

"Damn, all this time. I should have been paying much closer attention."

"Yes, you should have." She smiled gently, making it clear that any mocking tone in her voice was intended to be playful. "Perhaps you will from now on."

"Well, part of me is definitely at full attention!" They laughed. "I have to do this." He reached down into his pants and adjusted his erection. Elizabeth watched. Alan resumed kissing her and feeling her respond. His hands moved on her body and it responded. He drew his fingernails down her back and she arched back and looked up toward the ceiling. Alan kissed and fondled the breasts that were now available, then leaned back.

Elizabeth moved her fingers to his chest. She traced the outline of muscles and then bent to gently kiss his chest. Once. Twice. Three times. She moved and placed her lips around a nipple and then used her tongue to play with it. Alan let out a slight moan. Elizabeth moved in closer so that her groin pushed against Alan's and kissed him deeply. Alan kissed back and tried pushing his erection against her. Elizabeth felt the movement and changed position slightly so that the bulge moved against her. Alan pushed again and Elizabeth let out a slight gasp and whispered "Oh, yes. That's so right."

Alan held her buttocks and moved against her several times watching Elizabeth's face respond to each movement. Suddenly, Alan realized how close he was and paused.

"Close?" They were alone but she whispered it in a quiet, private voice.

"Ohhh, yes." The same way.

"Now? Or later?"

"When you're ready."

"I'm so close, too. I want it so much and I want to wait. I can't choose!" She watched as Alan nodded slightly showing her he understood. "Play with my nipples. Hard, not too hard. Oh, god, yes! A little harder. Yes!"

She started rocking against him, grinding her crotch into his then moving away and repeating the action. Alan started to tense. "So close. So very close," he whispered. The tone in his voice said "I can't hold back! I can't wait!"

She rocked. "Not yet! Not yet!" She moved again. "Not yet." And again. "Ok, now my darling! Now! Yes. Come now! Come for mommy. Come! Come!" .

Alan arched his body up. "I'm cumming! I'm cumming!"

She moved against him and threw her head back as the waves of her pleasure moved through her. Alan arched his body again and again, his groin moving against hers. Thrusting. Pressing. Straining. Exploding. Releasing. Releasing. She felt Alan's body relax and she leaned forward against him, kissing him and then wrapping her arms around his neck holding him close to her. He reached and wrapped his arms around her. They rested in that position, waiting for their breathing to slow down.

"Play with my breasts. Gently, they're very sensitive." Her eyes were closed. Alan reached and cupped a breast in each hand. A shiver went through Elizabeth and she sighed deeply through her nostrils. "That's perfect. Don't stop." Alan watched her face as the pleasure continued to ripple through her body. Occasionally, Elizabeth would gently bite down on her lower lip as the sensations glided through her and across her face. She slowly moved her groin against his.

Eventually she stopped and moved so she was looking at his face, looking at the dear, sweet face of the man she had ... had what? Had pleasured? No, more than that. Had fucked? Hardly! Whatever the word was, and Elizabeth began to think there wasn't a word, they had certainly done that and done it underlined and in bold. Dear god, if it was like that and they weren't making love, what would making love be like?

"You know I love you," he said.

"I know."

"Not that way."

"No. I know. I've seen it in your face, in the way you react to me." She paused. "I've known it longer than you have."

"When did you know? How did you know?"

"Does it matter?"

"Not really, I guess. It does matter that you love me that way ..." Alan repeated the words for emphasis, "that way, too."

"Well, now you know."

"Uh-huh." A silence. "What's next?"

"I don't know. You're my son. You're a man." She paused. "I need some time. Maybe some space. You don't have to understand, you just have to accept."

It was hot and a small bead of sweat started to roll down Alan's chest. She leaned forward and tasted it with her tongue and then sat back. She gazed into his eyes and he held her gaze for several moments. "I wanted to say this in the restaurant: nice tits!"

"Oh, you! You men are all the same."

"Some of us are different." Quietly but with confidence.

"Yes." She said it quietly but with layers of meaning.

She got up. "You like my tits?" She laughed. "Good! I'm glad you like them. They're the only ones I've got and I wasn't planning to change them."

Alan stood up. "Come here." He pulled her against his chest. "Good. I like them just the way they are. I like the complete package. I wouldn't change a thing."

Elizabeth looked up at him. "I'm so much older. This isn't the body of a woman your age." She searched for the words as she collected her thoughts. "If you really wanted ..." She let the sentence hang there, incomplete.

Alan shook his head. "There's more to the package than a body. I really wouldn't change a thing." He bent down, picked up her blouse and bra from the floor and handed them to her. They dressed and headed upstairs together, hand in hand, man and woman.

He went to his room and she to hers. The comforter was still on the drawer of memories. She stood in front of it, thinking of the past few hours, of past few years, of a lifetime. She was hesitant, but not afraid as she had been before, to face her prince. The pleasure of being with her son was still running throughout her nervous system. She had to face him some time, she knew that. She decided to get it over with then and there.

She removed the comforter and opened the drawer of her memories. She picked the picture with shaking hands, closed her eyes and held it in front of her for a while before opening her eyes and looking into his.

She looked at the picture for a long while, sitting silently and stunned. Her mind was clouded with guilt and it took a while for the fog to dissipate. Once it did though and the scenery became clear, she found herself looking at a picture of herself with her husband, Alan's father, on their honeymoon. The couple in the picture was standing in the water, his arms wrapped around her body lovingly and her face lit with the promise of a wonderful tomorrow.

She wasn't in the water with her prince. She was in her room, looking at that old picture of a faded memory.

It took her a long while to come to terms with this new reality and then finally she put the picture back into that drawer of memories and closed it for the last time.

She lay on her bed for a while and then got up with a new determination. She went out of her room and into his. He was just standing in the middle, doing nothing, just standing.

She said to him, "You know, we haven't tested your new bed yet." A coy smile spread all over her lips.

He looked at her strangely. There was a vacant look in his eyes; like he was not Alan that she knew, but another man with the name Alan. He quietly moved towards her and proceeded to remove her clothes. Soon she was standing naked in front of him. He then took his own clothes off and placed her arms around her waist and his erection between her legs. She opened her legs a little to let his penis go between her thighs but instead of hugging her in that position, he placed his hands behind her thighs and lifted her up. At the same time his penis started to push against her pussy. By the time he reached the bed, his head was making its way into her cunt.

Her dropped her onto his bed and fell on top of her. The force of his body, as it crashed on top of her, pushed his penis all the way in and beyond. She couldn't believe a man could go that far inside of her.

All the ghosts were exorcised that night as their screams almost brought the house down. There was a new beginning for both of them. A beginning with a promise of a fulfilling future, as Alan, the young man, became Alan, the man, and Elizabeth, the mother, became, Elizabeth, the girl, his girl.

The rest is history, as they say.


This story started on the other side of the globe from me. It was started by a fan of mine who has become a truly good friend over the years. We met when he responded to one of my earlier stories and we have stayed in communication ever since. He was fortunate to have experienced my beautiful country :-) at an impressionable age and apparently it endeared us more than it would have otherwise.

I don't know what possessed him to start writing after reading about my ordeals with my own stories, which I had shared with him through my e-mails. By the way, we haven't seen each other yet and we don't really know what the other looks like, but that is the beauty of our relationship. It is purely mental.

He made one mistake though. He was doing so well with his writing that it got to his head and he decided to share his writing with me, even though it was at an early stage. I, being a big mouth, decided to give him a word of advice, which prompted him to ask me to edit his story and make it better --- which I knew I couldn't because it was a good story without any interference from me.

I took his request seriously and gave him one hell of an editing treatment. I chopped things everywhere and tried to make him think like me, which of course must have been very discouraging to him because it was after all his story and I had no idea what he was planning with it or where he was headed.

My editing was so intrusive that he decided to rather concentrate on other things and the story lay there waiting for an ending. Finally, when I knew that he had no desire left to continue with the story his way, I decided to make my move and asked him if I could finish it for him.

He was only too glad to get rid of it and I was too glad to finally mould his story to my events. I basically sabotaged a budding and brilliant writing career so I could take the story idea [read that steal] and make it my own. Honestly, I don't regret it, because I enjoyed [re]writing this story.

It has taken months, and I mean long months, to finally put something out that I can feel good about. After all I don't want my dear friend to be disappointed. This is how I explain this joint venture: He put ideas into my head and I put words into his mouth.

Let's see if you can distinguish my style of writing from his, because he did write at least half, if not more, of this story and I included it word by word. I never really knew how he wanted to end this story, that's why the beginning does not tie in with the end, but that's what I found exciting. It will leave the reader wondering and I hope it is a rewarding wonderment.

Those who like to give a zero rating to this kind of stories just because there is not enough action should know that this story does not deserve a low rating. It has come from two brains and has been very hard, but very rewarding, work. To give this work a low rating does not say anything negative about our work, it only shows the low intelligence level on your part.

I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as we enjoyed writing it. My friend does not want any credit so I can't mention who he is, but I am hoping that he'll at least leave his viewpoint on the public bulletin board and let all of us know what his feelings are about the way I have butchered his storyline.

I also hope that all of you would take your time and give us your feedback, through the bulletin board or through e-mail to me, because that is where the real reward is for working so hard on writing this piece. All comments are welcome and cherished, although I may not be able to respond to all of them. My apologies in advance for that.