Haziran 28, 2020

The First Noel

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The First NoelAngela sat on her empty bed and did her ritual of missing her husband, who had died a year ago, before bed as she did almost every night since. Everybody said it would be better in time, that time would heal, she’d soon find the will to move on, but it seemed that the only thing time did was make it worse. She found herself missing her husband more every passing week. Dating again was only a thought she flirted with. And for a woman of forty, with signs of how she’d look when she was sixty starting to show because of the constant frown on her face, it wasn’t easy to find the proverbial satisfaction. She didn’t have too many hobbies either, or any other such interest to busy her mind with. She had always loved literature, but ever since her husband’s death, she couldn’t quite rekindle her love for it. Her idle mind would always find a way to pile on the sadness she was already burdened with. It did nothing to help her move on. After about five minutes of smiling to herself, caressing herself, frowning, thinking about the person she had shared her bed with for eighteen years, she finally got in. Her thoughts then wandered towards her nineteen year old son, her only son, who was in his room across the hall, face glued to his computer screen, playing some game or the other. She briefly wondered if she should be worried about him, but as quickly decided she shouldn’t and tried to think of something more positive. She’d missed him for too long to dare to think of anything negative about him. Noah sat at his desk and his face was glued to his computer screen. But contrary to what his mother thought he was doing, he was surfing through various websites looking for jobs. He didn’t want his mother to worry about him. Dropping out of college after just a year was far from what any mother would want for their only son. His father’s insurance money would only last for so long, and with just his mother’s small salary at a local bookstore, and his as a part-time salesman at a clothing store, it would soon become hard to make ends meet. He didn’t want to be a burden. Moving out, he thought, was not an option. At least not right now. He would wait until he got a proper job, which could take a while, or his mother found someone. He wasn’t too sure if he could do it even then. He was at a boarding school for four year in high school, a year away in college, and now that his father had died, he didn’t want his mother to feel abandoned by her only son. Finding nothing, again, he closed all the tabs. After a brief and unnecessary contemplation, he opened a new one and entered the Xhamster website. It was his favorite pastime. He thought that porn videos were too blatant and phony. Fine enough if you wanted a quick fix, but it had nothing on a fine piece of writing that didn’t need bad acting or fake orgasms to get you completely simulated. Sure, some stories were blatant and phony too, but a good piece of writing is always worth reading through ten bad writings. His love for literature was probably the only thing he inherited from his mother. Other than that, he was an exact replica of his father. There were even some who didn’t know them that thought they were brothers. Nobody ever mistook the fact that they were related. Angela, in the other room, twisted and turned, unable to sleep. Some nights she slept as soon as her head touches the pillow and she’d fall into a deep and dreamless sleep. But it was not one of those nights. She looked at the time on her phone. It was a quarter to one – Sunday. She didn’t have to go to work, so she decided to give up chasing sleep. She got up and turned on her laptop to review a short story she wrote a few days ago. She had always wanted to be a writer, but had never quite written anything worthy of publication. She had been writing a story, one which she thought had a very good potential, but when her husband died, she gave it up, deleted all the files, and never tried to continue. A month ago, out of boredom, she had stumbled upon Xhamster. She had never had much interest in any type of erotica, although she had nothing against them. She didn’t even know literary porn exists so freely until then. But once she started reading, she saw it was more than just mindless erotic crap that she had expected. Some stories were even better than some of the books she’d read. After that, she had read at least one from each category. For some reason she found the stories in the taboo category really intriguing. There was something about forbidden love that caught her interest. No one wants to hear stories about a perfect young man and a perfect young woman falling in love and living happily ever after. Where’s the story in that? It was the challenge, the uphill battle, going against the society, the silent and intense rebellion that really interested her. And not too long ago, she decided to write one herself. At least she was going back to literature. An hour later, after re-reading, re-editing, and revising, she opened the website to submit it. She hesitated, as she did countless times before. Who would read it? What if they hated it? Was her username, ‘WidowAngel’, too obvious? Would people she know read it? Would they know it was her? What would they think of her? No point in mulling over it, she thought. It was just a story, and a good one at that, compared to some others she had read. And in any case, it was a chance for someone to read her words, and that was all she wanted. She clicked on the submit button. FIVE NIGHTS LATER Noah received an email that said that his application for an internship at a publishing house was accepted. Among other many interests, his first choice had always been to work within the publishing industry. It had been hard, finding any publisher that would accept a college dropout, and he had given up on searching a couple of time. Seeing the email, although it wasn’t that big of a news, he had the feeling that his life was about to take a turn. He went to tell his mother the good news. He had been keeping his search a secret from her mother, not wanting to give her false hope. He went to her door. It was still early so he didn’t think she would be asleep yet. Just as he was about to enter, he heard strange sounds coming from within. He listened. It was the sound that he hadn’t heard in a while, the sound he hated hearing, and had no wish to hear it ever again. His mother was sobbing. Angela was clutching a photo of her late husband in her right hand and a handkerchief in the other. Her eyes were red. She had been crying for a while now. She didn’t try to stop, she just let herself go. Then she heard the door creak open behind her, followed by her son’s voice. “Mom? Are you okay?” her son asked with his tender voice that sounded so much like his father’s. Sometimes she even mistook them when they spoke on the phone. “I’m okay, Noah,” she said with a voice gruff from all the sobbing. She wiped her tears away. “I was just feeling a little emotional.” “Can I come in?” Noah asked. She could hear a little hesitation in his voice. She wiped the last of her tears away. She turned toward her son. “Come,” she said, and attempted a smile. As her son walked in, she did not fail to see the stark resemblance to her husband. It wasn’t just his appearance, it was the way he carried himself, the way his shoulders moved, the way his arms swung, the hint of a smile every time he spoke, that screamed – ‘I am my father’s son’. He sat down next to her and looked at the picture she was holding. “Every time I see you, I see your father,” she said. “Seeing that, I know he is alive and well in you, and that always warms my heart.” She stroke his hand. She thought about how her husband used to stroke hers. “Or maybe I’m just too weak to move on.” “No,” Noah said, “I know you’re not weak. I’m your son. I know.” She smiled at him. “Thank you,” she said, almost a whisper. She cleared her throat. “I just miss him so much, you know? I don’t know what I’d be without you.” “I miss him too,” Noah said. “But we have each other.” “We have each other,” she repeated her son’s words. She leaned forward, put his hands behind his head and kissed him on the forehead. She let go. “So what did you want to say?” “Oh, not important right now,” he answered. “Go on. I’m okay, really. Don’t mind me.” “Okay then,” he said. His lips stretched to form a wide handsome smile. “A few days ago, I applied for an internship at a publishing house and I got accepted. A paid internship. Not much, but still…” “Really?” she said. She was genuinely surprised. But then again, she always knew she didn’t have to worry about him. Like his father, she knew, Noah could take care of himself. “You should’ve told me about it before. I would’ve wanted to help you job hunt.” “Well, I didn’t want you to get your hopes up too high in case I wasn’t accepted. And it’s still only an internship. Nothing guaranteed.” “I know they’ll take you in.” She knew. “I’m so happy. You make me happy. Keep doing that.” They both laughed. Noah told her mother everything he knew about the details, and then they spoke about some other things for a while. “Anyway, that was what I originally came here for,” he finally said and got up. Angela got up too. “I’m so happy,” she said again, and then hugged him. “I love you, Noah.” “I love you too,” Noah said. They let go. “Goodnight!” they said, and he walked back to his room. The smile on his face stayed.Angela got into bed, happy hearted. She hadn’t felt that happy in a long time. It was not just the fact that Noah told her good news, but because the good news broke her away from her sadness. The reason she cried seemed silly to her now. It was the night her husband and she first had sex on their second date. It was heavenly to her. Not even the sex on their wedding night beat the magic of their first one. Neither of them were a virgin then, but it mattered little. They commemorated their first time together by having sex on the same night every year since. Sometimes they had argued, but that didn’t ever stop them. The sex just became a little angrier than usual. But that night, for the second time since she’d known him, she was alone. She soon fell asleep. In her dream, her husband returned. He apologized for failing to join her in bed the night before. He told her he was out looking for a job for Noah. Angela forgave him. They got into bed together and had the best sex she had ever had in her life. She felt like it was even better than their first time together, and that was saying a lot. They lay on their back, looking up at the ceiling, panting. After she caught her breath, she asked him if he found a job, and then turned towards him. But what she saw wasn’t her husband. It was Noah. He said that he found a job. Angela didn’t understand what was going on. She asked Noah when he got here. Noah gave her a look of incredulity. She got up from the bed, panic rising inside her. She realized she was naked. She grabbed the sheet and covered herself. She asked how he got here. Noah asked if she was okay. He asked her to, “Come back to bed, baby. Let’s go another round.” Angela turned and ran. The sheet trailed behind her. She ran down the stairs. She missed a step. She fell. And just as her body met the hardwood floor, she awoke with a start. She panted, the memory of her dream stark and vivid in her mind. She didn’t know what to make of it yet. She steadied her breathing, taking deep breaths. She looked around. Dawn had broken. The edges of her window curtains glowed orange. And then, slowly, she reached down between her legs. She realized her panties were off and she was naked waist down. She must have taken them off sometime during the night. It wasn’t the first time she had woken up naked after she slept alone. There was no mystery there. Her hands reached her pubes. Her hands felt what it hadn’t felt for a long time. It was soaking wet. She went over her dream again, but now with the knowledge that it had been Noah and not her husband all along. And then, slowly and gently, she inserted a finger inside her lubricated cunt. The night before, as Noah left his mother’s room, he felt happy and proud of himself. He felt proud not because of his acceptance for the internship, but because he made his mother happy. He had caught her in a moment when no son wanted to see their mother in, and turned that moment on its head. That was what he was proud of. He sat at his desk, doing more research on publishing so he wouldn’t come off as a completely unlearned idiot who talked bigger than he was. He read about all he could, not just about editing, but also about the advertising, marketing, about agents and authors and royalties and contracts, and also all the different lingos used with the publishing industry. He’d read to his satisfaction, at least about all he could find on the internet. And then, more out of habit than interest, Noah opened the Xhamster website. There were always too many to choose from, too many to read, and no way to really know if they were any good. Sometimes the descriptions helped, but more often than not, the promises faltered. Instead of going through categories and categories, looking for a good story, what he did was look at only the ‘New’ ones. He filtered it further by ignoring the chain stories. Nothing against them, but he preferred to read a story a night, and a different one the next. Scrolling through them, reading their titles and their descriptions, he found one that peaked his interest. The title was catchy, but not corny or superfluous. The description looked like it wasn’t written by an amateur. It didn’t sound clichéd. He didn’t really care about the i****t/Taboo tag. He had an open mind. He looked at the author – WidowAngel. He couldn’t help being reminded of his mother. He’d heard her mother being called ‘Angel’ by his father more than a few times when they were being playful. That or ‘Angie’. He quickly pushed the thought away. But because of that association, his interest had peaked more than it did before, and then he clicked on the title. After about half an hour, he laid on his bed looking up at the ceiling, thinking. It was uncanny. It couldn’t be. There he was, reading himself. The character in the story, the same age as him, also worked at a clothing store. The name was Noel, and he had a widowed mother named Annie, who was a writer. The character description was eerily similar to him. It was like looking into a mirror. Their daily routines were practically the same, apart from the obvious difference. He remembered, a few weeks ago, he went to a party. He had to pick up his mother from another party, but he returned late and drunk. His mother was already home. They had an argument before he went to bed. Later that night, his mother had come into his bedroom to apologize. He had pretended to be asleep, and his mother went out after she apologized and gave him a light peck on his lips and told him that she loved him with all her heart. That much was same with the story. What differed was, in the story, Noel abandoned his ruse and his mother didn’t leave. She leaned in when her son opened his eyes and looked at her with a look of apologetic longing. They held their gaze for a while, and then she kissed him again, but this time, more passionately. He kissed her back. He was still a little drunk, but sober enough to know what was happening. No words were spoken. There was no need. They both knew what they were doing. They both knew it was wrong, but neither stopped. They dared not interrupt the moment with ill-placed words. Then, slowly and carefully, not wanting to ruin the moment, Annie got into bed with her son. They embraced each other. Noel took off his mother’s thin, short and sleeveless nightgown. She wore no bra underneath. Annie’s naked breast met with her son’s bare chest and her nipples hardened. Noel only ever slept with his boxer shorts. They lay on their sides, arms around each other. Noel’s hardening penis was inconspicuous through his loose boxer shorts and it protruded forward. He let his hand slowly run down his mother’s back and when it reached her butt, he pulled her to him, closing the few inches of gap between them. Annie gasped as her son’s hard dick pressed against her crotch. Her heart was thumping hard against her breast and she could feel her son’s heart doing the same. She kept her eyes closed, but her hands wandered, mapping her son’s back. Noel was slowly and gently humping her, with his hands still holding on to his mother’s butt. Annie opened her eyes and stared straight into his son’s eyes. Their lips parted as they looked at each other, questioning themselves for a moment. Noel stopped moving his hips. His mother pulled herself away, but not all the way. He feared she would get up and leave, but also wished she would. He knew he didn’t have the self-control to stop before they went too far. Annie was also thinking the exact same thing. She knew she didn’t have the self-control. She feared her son would tell her to leave, but also wished he would. No words…too late. Her hand crept in between them, and stroked her son’s chest. Then it moved down to his stomach. They held their gaze all the while, mother and son. And then, gently, Annie’s hand moved further down. It slowly crept under her son’s elastic boxer waist, brushing his thick pubic hair, and then, as if holding a very fragile and expensive piece of crystal, Annie softly grabbed her son, warm, hard, and pulsating dick. Noel breathed in as his mother’s warm and calloused hand touched his dick. It felt good as much as it felt strange. He knew it was wrong, but knowing that, he didn’t wanna be right. Annie’s slowly started stroking. Noel closed his eyes. Annie leaned in and started to kiss her son again. Noah pulled his boxers down to his ankles as he continued reading. The room was dark except for the glow of his computer screen. Everything was quiet except for his quickening breathing and the faint sound coming from the fan of his computer. He read further down. His hands slowly and gently played with his hard dick with a moistened tip. As Annie got on top of Noel, Noah too quickened his strokes. The slapping sound of his wrist coming down rhythmically on to the edge of his thigh added to the minimal ambient noise. Noah’s pace quickened still as Annie’s hips gyrated on top of her son’s. He lost all awareness of everything else as he read further. Eyes trained on the fine print on the screen, palms wrapped around his throbbing dick, moving up and down. Now Noel was on top of his mother. Her legs wrapped around his waist and he was leaning forward, arms on both sides of his mother, supporting his weight. Noah stroked as fast as he could just as Noel thrust his dick inside his mother’s cunt as fast as he humanly could. * Noah sat there, bare assed, arm aching, penis limp, and his warm cum strewn across his stomach. He felt a cold draft. The warmth, the heat of the excitement, had ebbed away. The realization came far slower than he did. But it had come. He practically was masturbating to the image of him and his mother having sex. His mother! For heaven’s sake! The guilt then came, followed shortly by its cousin, shame. They stayed all the while as he cleaned his semen off of his body with a napkin.As he lay awake in bed, he tried to reassess what he had read, tried to analyze, discern the startling similarities between Noel and himself, and between Annie and Angela, her mother. Who wrote it? Who was ‘WidowAngel’? It couldn’t be just a coincidence. The author had to know who he was and who her mother was. Was it a stalker? Maybe even an identity thief? But the more he thought, the more he tried to come to a reasonable and less taboo conclusion, the more they all seemed improbable. Tired out, he finally slept, with the final thought that it probably had been her mother, whether he liked it or not, in his mind. And in his sleep, he dreamt of Annie. He was Noel. Annie had her mother’s face. Good morning,” Angela said after a quick glance as Noah walked into the kitchen. She had been trying to avoid it all morning, but couldn’t help being reminded of her dream the moment she saw her son’s face. No, it wasn’t the dream that bothered her. She’d had stranger dreams than that. No. It was what she did when she woke up with the memory of her dream still fresh in her mind that left her a little afflicted. She wasn’t thinking straight. Noah avoided eye contact as he ate his breakfast and discussed some trivialities with his mother. The email he got the night before seemed like a long time ago. His thoughts were filled with suspicion, self-consciousness, and excitement. Suspicion because he was, for some reason, almost positive that his mother was ‘WidowAngel’. In fact, he was willing to bet his dignity on it. Self-consciousness because he knew her had masturbated to his mother the night before, dreamed about his mother, and he wasn’t disgusted by it. If anything, he thought he rather liked it. But he just wasn’t too sure what his mother would think about it. And excitement because…well, it was exciting. Unconventional, taboo, incriminating, and everything else, but exciting. As days passed. The idea, the possibility, the fantasy, that she might actually be sexually attracted to her son did not recede in Angela’s mind. Instead it grew in fervor. She found herself not able to concentrate at work, she couldn’t look at Noah with a straight face, and every time she saw a mother and a son together, her mind was no longer in the present. She feared that her son knew something. She wondered if it was her, or was her son actually keeping his distance. They didn’t talk as much as they did before, and there was no other reason for that to change. Even when they did talk, he seemed nervous, as if he knew something was going on. Then she started to wonder if her son had read her story. After all, it wouldn’t be too big a surprise that her son would stumble upon porn, let alone what she wrote. She tried to analyze the possibility. Noah – a nineteen year old boy – having sexual desires much stronger than hers – a lover of literature – more knowledge about the online world than her – Xhamster, probably the best place for literary erotica – and a not half-bad erotic story she wrote was published on there. By the looks of it, she thought, it was more than likely that her son had read the story, regardless of whether he knew it was her or not. But she was sure that if her son had read it, then he knew. To top it all off, his strangely elusive behavior only started the day after her story had been published. So, in conclusion, she was ninety percent sure that her son knew that she had fantasized, and put on paper (or at least on screen) about a sexual encounter between herself and him. “Why does that thought not make me afraid?” Angela wondered. Noah just couldn’t take it anymore. It had been gnawing his brain ever since. He had to find out. So, one day, about two weeks after the first time he had read the story, after looking for more stories written by ‘WidowAngel’ and not finding any, and after reading it many more times and each time jacking off to it, he decided to get to the bottom of it, if there ever was a bottom. He was ninety percent sure that it was his mother, though the ‘why’, for he was searching for a reasonable and a less taboo ‘why’, still evaded his logical mind. He snuck into his mother’s room, although there was no reason to sneak. Her mother wasn’t home yet. He had left work early. He opened her laptop which was just lying there on the table conveniently, and turned it on. For a second her feared there might be a password, but the fear was quickly dispelled as it displayed the home screen once it was turned on. Taking his time and keeping his eyes on the clock he looked through all the drives and all the folders that he thought most likely. The ‘Private’ folder offered nothing, nor did the ‘Personal’ folder. She searched the music folder, the movies folder, the videos folder, the work folder, but nothing. No wanting to give up yet, and not wanting to go out empty handed, he looked into all the unlikely folders too. Nothing. Nothing even close. There were a few word documents, but on them were written nothing close to what he was looking for. Even pressing the key combinations to view hidden folders showed nothing. He entered the Recycle Bin. It hadn’t occurred to him at first, but he thought it was the likeliest place that anything in the veins of what he was looking for would be. There were a bunch of stuff, unimportant. But there was one that immediately caught his eye. It was a word document. The title read. ‘The First Noel’. He hesitated before clicking it. What if it turns out to be what he was looking for? What then? What would he gain by knowing that his mother wrote a fictional story about him and her having sex? Would he be happy? Would he be excited? Does that mean his mother was fantasizing about him? Would he send her signals? Confront her? Condemn her? Or would he make a move? The one thing he knew for sure was he wouldn’t be disgusted by it. He won’t hate her for it. The buildup had been too intense for the outcome to be negative. He didn’t know what he would feel. He decided he’d feel later, and see what it actually was first. He double clicked on the file, and then clicked on the restore button. He then went to the file destination. Found it. He waited, he didn’t know for what. He took a deep breath. And as he double clicked on the file, a smile spread on his face. But it vanished as soon as the file opened. It was the lyrics to the Christmas carol ‘The First Noel’. It was far from what he was looking for. Even though he didn’t find anything, his surety that his mother was the widow angel did not disappear. For some strange reason, he was a hundred percent sure. He was deeply disappointed not to find the evidence to support what he knew. But in his disappointment came the realization that he wanted his mother to be the widow angel. He wanted his mother to fantasize about him. He wanted his mother in bed with him. Noah wanted to be Noel. Angela was greeted with a surprise when she returned home that evening. Her son was her son again. No more reclusive brooding teenage boy with interaction issues. She was asked how work was. She was asked if she was tired. She was asked if she could teach her son to cook, so she didn’t have to tire herself more when she returned home. Upon further thought, it wasn’t her son. There was something else she’d missed. Noah had never asked her if she could teach him to cook, and there was no reason to believe that he would without a more logical explanation than just him wanting to help out. She suspected something. She just might know what the reason might be for the change of behavior in her son. But she dared not get her hopes up too high for she could just as well be wrong. She went to her room, saying nonchalantly that she had to take a shower first. Inside she was almost giddy. Her laptop showed promising signs. She had placed the laptop on her table before she left for work that morning, remembering the position, its distance from the edges and from the other things on her table. She had placed it so that it would be uncomfortable to reach the keyboard without pulling it forward. She wouldn’t have noticed the slight variation if it had been any other day. She was already sure even before she turned it on. She turned it on anyway, wanting to see if the trap had really caught anything. She didn’t want to make it too obvious when she was setting up the trap. She knew her son was too intelligent for it. It had still been too obvious to her, but that was the best she could do. She entered the recycle bin. The file was there. She closed it. She opened a new word document. She right-clicked on the ‘Word’ icon on the taskbar. And there it was. At the very top, right below ‘Recent’. The First Noel. She smiled. ‘What now?’ was the question on the minds of both mother and son. Angela knew that her son knew. What she didn’t know though was whether he was trying to hide that he knew or he was trying too hard to show it. Either way, it didn’t matter. The fact that his response wasn’t negative was a positive. All that was on her mind as she taught her son to cook, ‘unintentionally’ brushing her arm against his unnecessarily and smothering him with a new found affection, was how she could make a move. Noah tensed up every time his mother’s hands brushed against his, every time she leaned in over his shoulder to see how he was doing, every time she put her arms around her shoulder, around his waist, and one time playfully slapped his butt. He tried not to show that he was nervous, but he felt like he was failing, even though his mother seemed not to notice it. The hardest part of it all was fighting the erection that was threatening every time his mother got close to him. He had to face away from her. He couldn’t concentrate on his cooking. He was afraid that she would find out that he was on her laptop. Or maybe that she was onto him and was just playing along his farce. One thing was for sure – he had never been more in love with his mother, even more than filial love. Half the dinner they ate that night was burnt and the other half was undercooked. But their taste buds were numb to it as they told jokes, shared stories, and laughed as they had never done before. They looked at each other, listening intently on the stories they told, but all they saw in each other’s eyes was Annie and Noel. Noah’s appetite had already gone even before they started eating. His laughs were nervous. To him, it sounded more like croaks than laughter. When they looked at each other, he never held his gaze for more than a few seconds. He even almost choked a couple of times. Despite all that, what he couldn’t understand was – why was he trying so hard? Why was he so afraid of embarrassing himself in front of his mother who knew almost everything about him? His mother, who breast fed him, had toilet trained him, had wiped his ass, cleaned his nose, bathed him, caught him masturbating, wiped his tears, and everything else in between! Why was he, after all that, trying so hard to impress his mother? His mother cleared the table and he did the dishes as they had always done before. Later, they sat in the living room watching some TV. Noah sat on the couch, his legs propped up on the center table. His mother sat right next to him on his left the same way. Their banters, their jokes and stories had stopped. Their eyes were trained on the TV screen, but neither of them were watching it. Noah tried to control his breathing that was starting to get heavy. He swallowed again and again, but each time he swallowed, his throat seemed to get only drier. The scent of his mother’s shampoo seemed to get stronger. The smell of the lotion she used tasted intoxicatingly sweet. And she had her own scent emanating from her womanhood that just got the better of him. He got hard. Slowly, he placed his arm on top of his crotch to hide his erection. Angela was fighting her own battle too. She knew her son was nervous, and she knew all too clearly the reason why. She did not fail to notice how her son’s arm was placed conveniently across his crotch. She knew he did it to hide his erection, and that knowledge gave her a disadvantage in the battle. ‘It is your son you are intending to seduce,’ her mind said. ‘But just look at him. So much like his father. I’ll bet you won’t even know the difference,’ her heart retorted. ‘How can you even consider it? Use your fucking head!’ her mind almost shouted. ‘You know he wants it too. Can you deny your only son what you clearly know he craves for?’ said her heart. ‘You know what he wants is wrong. Don’t lead him on. It’s still not too late,’ her mind implored. ‘It is too late. The die is cast. He knows. You know. He knows you know. You know he knows. And you both know that you both know. There is nothing more to think about.’ Her heart was adamant. ‘I beg you, do not. If you do, remember, it cannot be undone,’ her mind said with finality. ‘He is waiting for you, you know? Noah is waiting for you to make the first move,’ said her heart. It was almost a whisper, but she heard it as clears as a cloudless sky. He mind was silent. Slowly, Angela moved her hand and placed it gently on Noah’s left thigh over his pajamas. She heard his breathing stop for a second. It resumed with a shivery breath. Her hand stayed for over a minute without moving. And then, after a while, she very gingerly gave a little squeeze, and then slowly relaxed it again. She knew how nervous her son was, and she did not dare to be too audacious. She knew she had to take it slow. So she waited for another two full minute before she made her next subtle move. She inched her hand slightly upward and inward so it got a little closer to his crotch. Her hand met Noah right hand which he was using to restrict free movement of his erect penis. He did not flinch away at the touch. He did not move at all. He was still as a statue. He could very well have been mistaken for a mannequin if seen from afar. Angela’s mind never spoke again. Only her heart spoke, and she listened to it. Didn’t people always say, ‘listen to your heart’? That was exactly what she did as she slowly placed her hand on top of her sons. She gently petted it, as if petting a hurt baby puppy. She had to care for what the puppy might feel instead of just thinking about how she felt about it. The puppy would just jump away if it thought she was giving her too much affection, if it thought it was a wrong choice to accept affection from her. She had to be careful so the cute little puppy don’t change its mind about receiving her affection. Noah couldn’t even think properly. Was it really happening? Does he really want it to happen? It is true then, his own mother wants to have sex with him. Or is he misinterpreting things? But what if it’s true? Does he have to signal her back or something, to show her that he was along for the ride? Why was he so nervous? He wasn’t even a virgin anymore. It’s not his first time…fondling. Why was he so goddamn nervous? Maybe it had something to do with the fact that it was his mother and not some random girl that was getting so very close to his oozing hard dick. He wished he could just read his mother mind. But then again, he knew he didn’t need to. It was obvious. It was plain, what was going on, what was in his mother’s mind. The question was, what’s he gonna do? ‘No this is wrong,’ his mind decided. ‘This is just wrong. What the fuck am I thinking? My own mother! I understand her impulse. She’s a lonely woman who hasn’t been with a man in over a year after having been with someone for over nineteen years. I understand how her mind could be diluted. I am the only person close to her, and I am not a k** anymore. I am a man. I’m even surprised she didn’t make a move sooner. ‘But I should be the one with the rational mind. I am young. I’m not bad-looking. I could fuck any girl I want. Why would degrade myself by having sex with my own mother. Why should I disgrace myself? What would people say? What would I become? What would become of my mother? I have to think for her too. I have to take care of her. She isn’t thinking straight.’ Noah got up. “I have to go pee.” ‘What have I done,’ Angela thought. ‘You fool!’ She berated herself. ‘How could you possibly even think that your own son would want to have sex with you? You should be ashamed of yourself you dirty whore. What a fucking disgrace. What if people knew? Do you want your son to be a cast-out? A misfit? Targeted? Abused? Don’t you ever think? Your mind has really gone around the bend, hasn’t it? Was there even a shred of sanity left inside your sexually depraved mind? There you were, so happy thinking that your own son was having the crazy, kooky fantasies that you have. Your son hasn’t lost his mind yet. Don’t lose it for him.’ When Noah got back, she got up. “I’m going to bed,” she informed him. “So soon?” he asked. She knew he was just trying to make everything seem normal. She knew he was glad that she was going to sleep. “Yeah. I’m a little tired.” It was the truth. She wasn’t tried because of her work. She was tired of herself, her constant state of mind where she debated about the moralities of sleeping with her own son. She was tired of guessing what her son was thinking. She was tired of craving her son. She was tired of being sexually attracted to her son. She was tired having all her hopes dashed away. She was tired of reality. Yes, she was tired. “Goodnight, then,” her son said. “Goodnight,” she replied. As she headed up the stairs, her son called, “Mom.” She looked down at him. He was looking up her. He seemed to hesitate a little before he finally managed with a weak voice, “I love you.” “I love you too, Noel.” She headed up the stairs and into her room. There was nothing interesting on TV so he turned it off. Noah didn’t have a new book to read yet and there was nothing on their bookshelf that he hasn’t read. It was still only half past eleven. He didn’t feel like reading erotic stories either after what had transpired earlier. So, he just headed to his bedroom to try and sleep. At any rate, he thought, there was never such a thing as too much sleep. He lay on his bed, eyes wide open, staring up. All he saw was darkness. His thick curtain did not allow any light from the streetlamps outside to stream through. He liked pitch darkness when he wants to sleep. There was pitch darkness now, but he did not want to sleep. He kept thinking about earlier. Rather, the events kept replaying in his mind for he knew not what to think. It was like watching a movie, only, the movie was real and it was playing in his head. Then it struck him. ‘She called me Noel.’ Annie lay thinking about what she did. Why did I have to do that? Why did I have to call him that? What drove me to do that? All she could come up with was – she wasn’t thinking when she called her son Noel. Now, it was beyond doubt that her son knew. Her door creaked, interrupting her train of thoughts. She heard soft breathing. After a few seconds, the breathing got closer. She was facing away from the door so she couldn’t see. But she knew. Noah moved around to the side his mother faced and sat down on the bed, facing her. Angela pretended to be asleep. Her eyes were closed, but her mind was open. She heard her son whisper. “I love you, mom.” She breathed normally, keeping up her ruse. She didn’t know what she would do if she opened her eyes, if her let her son knew she was awake. She felt Noah’s hand brushing away a few strands of hair from her face, and then running his fingers through them. The hand rested on her shoulder. She felt him move closer. She felt the heat of their proximity. She knew his face was just in front of hers. Then she felt a light kiss on her lips. Her son’s lips were soft and soothing. How she fought to not part her lips as her sons lips stayed on hers for longer than she thought it would. But before temptation got hold of her again, Noah pulled away. He pulled away, but he didn’t leave. He stayed where he was, as if thinking, undecided about something, as if in a dilemma. Noah didn’t know if his mother was awake or asleep. He couldn’t even guess. But it didn’t matter. Noah dared. He whispered, “I love you, Annie.” Then he saw his mother slowly open up her eyes. The curtains here were much thinner than in his room. They were drawn, but the lights of the bright street lamps outside streamed through nonetheless, at least enough to be able to ascertain who was in the room. His mother not too roughly grabbed his hand. For an instant he thought she would slap him. But his fear was quickly dispelled as she pulled him close and planter her lips on his.Noah parted his lips to make way for his mother’s searching tongue. It was warm and sweet, nothing like he ever tasted before. Without breaking away from the kiss, Noah climbed onto the bed and got under the covers. The chill he had felt was instantly gone as his mother’s warmth under the covers enveloped him. He put his right arm around his mother’s waist and let his hand wander across her back over the thin nightgown. He could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra. The whole expanse of her back felt like his was on some foreign soil, an uncharted territory, and somehow it felt like he was intruding upon it. But he didn’t stop; he moved his hand up and down until it was his, until he owned the whole of it. His mother too put her hand around his shirtless waist. But she didn’t need to mark her territory. She already knew her son was hers. Noah was a little surprised as her mother boldly put her hand on his ass without any seductive caressing of his bare back. And without any indication of what she was going to do, she suddenly, but not too forcibly, pulled her son towards her, closing the few inches of gap between them. Now it was airtight. Noah gasped a little as his dick which was just starting to harden inside his boxers came in contact with his mother’s crotch. In a few seconds, he reached full erection. It was poking hard at her mother’s panties. Angela lifted her left leg and put it on top of her son’s right thigh, and she slowly humped him, her son’s hard dick pressing against her. She then took his right hand and pulled it down to her butt, indicating that she wanted him to puller her to him. Her son did just that, pulling her hard in rhythm to her humping. After a few more motions, Noah’s mother backed in into the center of the bed, pulling him with her. She then pushed him on his back, and in one quick motion, climbed on top of her son and straddled him. The covers slipped down from her back and it lay in a heap on top of Noah’s thighs right behind his mother’s gyrating hips. Noah took his hands away from his mother’s butt and slipped them inside her nightgown. He caressed her waist and stomach, feeling the cesarean scar on her lower abdomen with great interest and her naval with great delight. Then slowly and smoothly, he moved his hands upward. His nerves had gone. He was feeling right at home now. His memories had come back to him. His experiences with other girls, his suave and grace when with a woman, played out as he gently ran his hands on his mother’s body. He counted the ribs on his mother, although they were not easy to make out. He moved his hands upwards still, until they ran up the mount on his mother’s chest. He cupped his mother’s breasts, holding one in each hand. They were never prominent, and he never really imagined that they could ever be big, but his hands were full. They were much larger than he anticipated. He squeezed them as gently as he could at first. As his mother moved her hips to and fro, grinding him more forcefully, he fondled her breasts more passionately and he tried to move his body in rhythm to his mother’s movements. In one quick motion, Angela pulled her nightgown off over her head, giving her son more room to play with her breasts. She couldn’t control her breathing anymore and she groaned and huffed as she increased her rhythm. The air around them smelled musky and sweet. There were no more cold drafts of air blowing. Everything was still except for their movement. The temperature in the room rose steadily. Noah put his hands through below his mother’s armpits and held her shoulders from the back, and then he pulled her down. They kissed passionately, tongues fighting inside their mouths, competing whom should enter whose. Then his mother moved down, her hands trailing on his chest, and then down to his stomach before they grabbed the elastic band of his boxers’ waist. He lifted his butt the same time his mother yanked it down. She threw the covers back and then threw away his boxers to the side of the bed. He was fully naked in front of his mother. Their eyes had properly adjusted to the dim light and they could now see clearly. Before Angela made a move, she examined the beautiful specimen that was lying right in front of her. Her son had never been an athlete. He did not have ripped abs or large bulging pectoral muscles, but neither were they covered in body fat. Her son’s body was not in want of body building. It was perfect in her eyes. Her eyes followed the thin trail of hair that started from below his naval and moved downward with increased density until it finally reached the thickness of his pubic hair. She could tell that he hadn’t trimmed it in a while. She fixed her gaze on her son’s hard and throbbing dick that pointed towards his chin. It was almost as big as his father’s and it still had room to grow. His balls sagged downwards between the bases of his thighs that were coarse with thin, sexy hair. Noah’s breathing was heavy and erratic as his mother’s warm hands caressed his thighs, inching closer to his dick and then moving away again, teasing him. He closed his eyes. And then he felt his mother’s hands on his balls, fondling them, playing with them. Her right hand then gently grabbed his leaking dick and slowly started to stroke, as if it might hurt him if it was any harder. Involuntarily, he moved his waist up and down, as slowly as he could to add more substance to his mother’s slow stroking. He felt hot breath on his dick. His heart rate increased. He was starting to perspire. He put his hands on his sides and grabbed the sheets, clenching his fists. Then he let out a loud audible sigh as his dick was enveloped by the warm moist mouth of his mother. He felt the mouth move up and down, slowly at first, and then gaining momentum. What she did with her tongue while his dick was inside her mouth – no girl he’d ever been with ever did that. They didn’t even seem to know about it. It was one of the perks of being with an older woman. They knew much more than girls your age knew. Noah let go of the sheets he was grabbing on and placed both hands on the back of his mother’s head. He thrust his hips upwards in tempo to his mother’s head movement. Each time, the whole length of his dick entered his mother’s mouth, her nose buried in his pubes. She sucked and he thrust. Angela didn’t want her son to come just yet, not before she got her fill. She pulled away and then took off her sopping panties. She too hadn’t trimmed in a long time. It was thick. It wasn’t how she would have preferred, but her husband had always liked it more that way. He hated the prickliness when she shaved. After that one time, she never shaved her pubes again, only trimmed them so they don’t get in the way. She clambered up her son’s body, knees on either side of him. His hands were stroking her thighs all the while. She stepped over his shoulders, placing his head between her knees. In a whisper, she said, “Sorry. I haven’t trimmed in a while.” “I like it better this way,” Noah answered. They even have the same taste, she thought wryly, and then she lowered her body until her cunt was resting on her son’s face. She felt the warm tongue of her son worm its way all over her hairy cunt. She drew in a sharp breath. How long has it been since she felt that? It felt like heaven. She placed her left palm on the wall in front of her and patted her son’s head with her right as he ate her out. My son had grown, she thought. She knew that Noah wouldn’t be a virgin anymore, that he’d have had experiences. After all, if a mother couldn’t resist her son sexually, how could any other girl? But what she didn’t account for was how good he was. It wasn’t just the tongue of someone who had tasted one or two different girls, she knew, it was of someone who was good enough to make money doing it. It wasn’t just experience, it was a skill. She had to admit, her son was better than his father at that. As Noah pinched her clit with his teeth, inserted his tongue as far as it would go into her vagina, and played all sorts of dances on his tongues on the dance floor that was her vulva, Angela felt a pang of disappointment that it wasn’t her that took her son’s virginity. She didn’t really care about how many times her son had had sex with other woman, as long as he was careful, but she would’ve wanted to be the one to bring her son into maturity, introduce him to the world of pleasure, orgasms and climaxes. She thought she should’ve been the first woman he inserted his dick in. But what does it matter? They were doing it now. His mother pulled away and moved back down. She kissed him, and then moved her head to the side, her lips next to his ear. She whispered in a sultry voice, “Fuck me now, Noah.” Noah then put his arms around his mother and then wrestled her to her back. He was now on top. His mother spread her legs for him, knees bent, exposing her pussy, inviting her son to it. He was kneeling between his mother’s legs, his dick, covered with dried saliva, but the tip wet with pre-cum, pointed to the ceiling. He leaned forward, crotch on top of crotch. He put his weight on his left hand which was pressing down on the bed beside his mother’s waist, as he held his dick with his right hand, aiming, and acquiring target. Noah slowly lowered his waist, his dick pointing forward in direct line to the opening of his mother’s cunt. Then, smoothly and gracefully, his dick entered his mother’s pussy inch by inch, and in one smooth push, the whole of his dick was inside. It was warm and moist, much like her mouth, but this was much tighter, and the throbbing was not only his dick, but it also came from the walls of the inside of her mother’s cunt. He pulled it back, but not all the way, and then pushed it down again. He’d never had sex with anyone older than him by five years, let alone twenty one years, and he’d expected it to be a little loose. But it was just a myth, he thought. It was just as tight as the others’, let alone the virgin he gave his virginity to. What a difference! From a virgin girl who was a stranger to him, to a forty year old woman who was his mother. What a difference indeed! He grunted, his mother moaned. He quickened the pace and he went as fast as he could. Angela kept up with her son. They changed position. She was on all fours and he was kneeling behind her, fucking her from behind. Angela’s breasts swung in rhythm to her son’s quick thrusts. Her son’s thighs slapping on her ass as they met, producing a clapping sound that got louder as both their bodies were staring to sweat. Noah reached for his mother’s breasts and fondled them as he continued fucking her. They changed positions again. Noah was lying on her back, and Angela straddled him. Now she controlled the rhythm. She went slower. If she left her son to his own device, she knew he would come too soon. She didn’t want that. She wanted it to last as long as it could. She didn’t hope of a climax herself that much, but she would stretch it as long as her son could endure. She moved her hips to and fro, her son’s hands moving all over her body, not really knowing what to do. She could tell he was used to being on top. With her husband, it was pretty even. She thought her son was almost as good as his father. He needed to learn to take it slow. The way he fucked, it resembled his father in their early years, hurried and impatient. He’d always come too soon until she’d told him to take it slow and take his time. Angela stopped in intervals to catch their breaths and to slow down the work of her son’s building orgasm. She turned around, her back to her son, and then leaned back, lying on her back on top of her son’s body. She turned her head sideways and kissed him. “Tell me if you’re about to come,” she said. She thought she saw him nod. Her legs were spread eagle. Her son lifted his waist, which lifted both of them, and then fucked her from below. She too moved her hips up and down, keeping pace. Noah felt her mother’s back sticking to his abdomen. It was hot and steamy. He thrust as fast as he could, not wanting his mother to slow down the pace for him. He thought he could hold his own. But that position was tiring. Soon, his waist ached and his pace slowed. He rested, lying flat on the bed and his mother lying on her back on top of him, his dick still inside his mother’s pussy. They both panted. Noah then pushed his mother off of him, telling her to lie on her back. He had to move back to the position he loved the most and used best. He knew his mother would want to make the most of their first time together, to try all the positions she knew, lead him, teach him, but he was too eager for all that. It wasn’t a sex lesson. He did not have the patience for that. All the teaching would have to come later because he wanted to come now. His mother wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. She knew what her son wanted. He just wanted to fuck. She hadn’t expected much more than that anyway, so she got along with it. There will be plenty of times later where they could take their time. After all they have the house to themselves. Noah pushed his dick in and out, again and again and again, panting, sweats dripping, grunting audibly. His mother under him, sticky with sweat, moaned and panted heavily. Their minds were blank except for one thought – how good it felt. Noah felt the climax rising, he still pushed his dick inside his mother. He felt the semen flowing through his vas deferens, almost reaching his urethra. He gave it a few more thrusts. Then, in a strained voice, he announced, “I’m coming!” In the nick of time, he pulled his dick out of his mother’s cunt and sprayed his white hot semen all over his mother’s belly. The scent of his cum covered the room. It smelled sweeter than it ever did before. He felt the heat rising from it. If felt glorious. He leaned down and then kissed his mother on the lips. He flopped down beside his mother, lying on his back. Angela was happy. She felt fairly satisfied. Her son reached his climax while fucking her. How could it be any better? She wondered if he might be willing to go another round as she wiped her son’s semen off from her belly with a towel. She then closed her eyes, only resting. When she felt her son move, she opened them. She thought he might get off the bed and go to his room, but he placed himself at her feet, kneeling down, and his face on top of her crotch. She looked down at him. He looked up. His expression was almost apologetic and sheepish. Without a word, he began to eat her out with the help of his fingers. It took her another four minutes to reach her climax. She reached orgasm only about one in ten times, and she didn’t hold much hope in reaching it that night, considering that her son was only nineteen and had much more to learn about how to really please and satisfy a woman. Her husband tried hard, but he did not succeed every time. She was just happy that her son too was trying. She decided she’d tell her son to stop if it took too long or it looked like she wasn’t going to climax. Suddenly, all the tensions building up in her pelvic area are released. Her muscles all over her body, especially over her groin contracted and expanded as her sight suddenly got dimmer. It felt like she was experiencing sleep paralysis, only this time, the fear and terror was replaced with immense waves of pleasure. She didn’t even realize she had shouted. It lasted for about twenty seconds until her muscles finally relaxed. A cold draft blew. It felt refreshing. She took deep and heavy breaths as she regained her full senses. * She woke up, facing away from her son. The borders of her curtains didn’t glow yellow, it was a dull grey. She could tell it was overcast outside. She was lying on her side and Noah was behind her, his right arm on top of her. Her son was spooning her. She felt his morning wood pressing again her butt. They were both still naked under the covers. She suddenly felt a rush of disgust. Not even a shred of sexual arousal or attraction was left towards her son as the memories of the previous night came streaming back into her mind. What have you done, you miserable fool? She asked herself. What, in heaven’s name, have you done? She pulled back the covers and got out of bed. She looked at Noah and saw how beautiful he was, how peaceful he looked in his sleep. The face, so innocent, so serene. And then you went and corrupted him! She left a note on the refrigerator before she left early for work. She cried on the way. Strangers stared at her. She felt guilt and shame. Their stares pierced right into her soul. They know, she thought. They know what I have done. They know who I am. They know how I have corrupted my son. They know how I have sinned. How Angela tortured herself inside! She spent almost half her time at work in the washroom, crying, washing her face, wiping it dry, reapplying makeup, and then doing it all over again. One of her friends kindly there told her to go home and rest. She shouldn’t come to work in the state she was in. But how could she return to where she had coerced her son into the gates of hell? How could she ever face her son again, knowing what she had done to him? She wondered what her son was thinking. But what he thought hardly mattered because she knew he shouldn’t have had anything to think about. She was the mother, and she had failed at motherhood. After work, she didn’t go home. She went to the park and sat on the bench for over three hours. People came and went. She had the irrational fear that someone she knew might just come up to her and berate her, tell her that they knew what went on in her bedroom last night, tell her how disgusting she was, tell her how convoluted, how insane, how perverted, how depraved she was, and just physically abuse her. She would have defended herself. When she finally went home, she decided she should talk to her son, face the music, tell him how wrong it was what they had done, and that it would never happen again. At the dinner table, a single plate was set and the dinner was neatly covered. On the plate was a note. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t wait up.’ Nothing else was written on it. She first took a shower, and then ate the cold meal. It tasted bland, not because of the poor cooking, but because of her state of mind. She did the dishes, and then sat in the living room, trying to read a book. She kept rereading a line until she finally gave up. She just sat there and thought. When should she do it? Should she just go up to his son’s room and tell him everything she had thought about? How will he take it? Does he feel the same way as I do? Or does he want more? He wouldn’t want more. He couldn’t want more. He’d know how wrong it was. He is no fool. Yes, he is no fool. He doesn’t need to be lectured, least of all by me. He knows it was the one and only time. Nothing like that will ever happen again. She won’t let it. She can’t let it. Angela decided that her son could come to his own conclusions, and changed her mind about speaking to him about it. She didn’t want to embarrass him, and neither did she want to be embarrasses. After about another hour, she brushed her teeth, undressed, and headed for bed. She lay there unable to sleep. Two sides of her mind were fighting over what it should think about. She counted sheep. One thousand one hundred and nineteen sheep. Her door slowly creaked open. The light was dim, but she could see as clear as day. Noah stood at her door, looking in, inquiring. He was wearing only his boxer shorts. So beautiful, she thought. She peeled back the covers, inviting her son into her bed.

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