Sleeping? Ch. 01

Mom was drinking one of those sickening diet shakes and coffee. I made my breakfast like I had for the past ten years - Mom wasn't very domestic where feeding me was concerned. She bought the groceries; it was up to me to fix the meals.

"Hurry up," she snapped the moment she placed the empty coffee mug in the sink.

"Yeah, yeah," I sighed. I didn't hurry. It would have been weird if I had. She stalked away a few seconds later, off to check her e-mails...and perhaps a few dating sites. Once she was gone, I finished up quickly, cleaned my spoon and bowl then put them in the dishwasher. As I thought, I found Mom at the computer. She was typing an e-mail and from a quick glance, she was reaming out last night's date.

Mom kept at it even though she knew I was there. She hit 'send' then minimized the window. That bit of bitchery taken care of, she turned on me.

"Come on, I want to show you what I want done in the backyard," she commanded. That attitude made me want to be a bit of a bastard.

"Whatever, Principal Lydia," I mumbled. She barely twitched. We went out back where she pointed out the bushes she wanted cut back and the areas she wanted cleared of fallen branches.

"Don't slack off like you normally do," she belittled me, just as she normally did. "Try not to be such a naughty boy."

I did my best not to react, but Mom, with her years of disciplinary experience knew she got me. Somewhat to her surprise, I didn't fight her for the last word and got straight to work. Two hours later, Lydia came back from her Sunday work at school - I had no idea what that could be. I would have bet she was getting ready to stick it to some poor student before the last week of the school year.

Twenty minutes later, I completed my tasks, cleaned up inside, then dressed for my daily workout. Mom was already working with the leg press when I arrived.

"I'm amazed you did your chores in a timely fashion - for once," she sniped.

"I was a real naught boy yesterday, so I decided to cut you some slack today," I shrugged.

Mom kept working out, yet her eyes were locked on me.

"I did pat your ass at the door as you headed out and again at the restaurant," I enlightened her. "A Son shouldn't do that to his Mother."

"You liked it, you Pervert," she tried to stare me down.

"I didn't say I didn't like it, Lydia, only that I shouldn't have done it to tease a woman I wasn't dating," I grinned.

"Oh, you think those crude passes would be okay if I wasn't your Mother," she grumbled. "I thought I raised you better than that."

"That's a joke," I chuckled.

"What did you say?" she spat.

"Come on Mom. Tight mid-thigh skirts, tight white blouses, make-up just right and stockings - you dress like that solely so you can torture those teenage boys in your school, then catch them yanking off in the bathrooms," I accused her. "Admit it."

"You are such a complete failure as a human being, Benji," she growled. "You are a pervert for seeing all women as mere sex objects as opposed to real people with real feelings." That was rich considering Mom had the empathy of a stump.

"Whatever Mom," I shrugged. "I know I treat other women better than that. Your opinion ceased being important to me some time ago."

Mom was furious. I could see flames of rage lancing forth from her eyes in my direction. She tried to articulate a cutting comment, but something else spilled out.

"Don't be a naughty boy," she demanded. I looked at her for a second then returned to my workout. She got the last word in again.

The whole mishmash of emotions and intentions collided together after lunch. I showered and dressed in the second story shower. Mom used the Master Bathroom. I was sitting downstairs, channel surfing and trying to determine if a late afternoon jog was possible when Lydia joined me. I tried not to gawk.

Mom was great looking for a woman in her mid-forties. Her body showed a lifelong devotions to physical conditioning. She didn't have the smoothness of a high school cheerleader, but she was very carefully maintained, easily passing for someone a decade younger. She was proud of her rigorous regimen.

Her usually workout attire consisted of yoga, or biker pants and sports bras, or crop tops around the house. What I wasn't ready for was the brown string bikini bottoms and white t-shirt (no bra or top) that she came down in.

"What are you looking at?" Mom glared.

"Nothing," I mumbled and looked away. Lydia snorted.

"You're pathetic," she sneered.

"What could have possibly convinced you that your opinion means anything more to me now than it did earlier today?" I responded while I kept my eyes on the TV. She poured herself an alcoholic beverage then came over to confront me.

"Stop being such a naughty boy," she stared down at me. Nice tits. I looked away and kept silent.

She'd been looking forward to this moment for nineteen years - control over me. Her move with Bianca on Friday had monumentally backfired. She'd gotten me to bow down to my Sister by threatening my education. She had ignored the fact that I was always rebellious, no matter what. It was my instinctual reaction. What her momentary triumph had really earned her was my conviction to sever our relationship forever.

That realization, the disaster of her date and her mounting sexual frustration had led to our very peculiar rendezvous on this same sofa last night. It also led to my unlooked for acquiescence to her will for the first time since I stopped breastfeeding. Mom wasn't an idiot. This wasn't her gaining dominion, it was my parting gift that she could stress, or break.

She sat down onto the sofa close to me and stole the remote. For five minutes she channel surfed without consideration for what I might like and took sips from her tall glass of Gin and Tonic.

"Benji, scoot down," she demanded. "I want to stretch out." I moved away about a foot. There was still some room to go farther away but I elected not to.

Mom knew this and stared angrily at me for several seconds.

"Oh well," she sighed. Lydia turned halfway over and pushed her knees against my thighs, her legs pointing up, before reclining on her stomach and resting her head on her folded arms. A few minutes later, she started sliding her legs apart. Her eyes were open, looking at the big screen. She was clearly alert.

I put my right arm along the top of the sofa without drawing a reaction. She opened her legs a little more. Her camel toe was clearly visible. The perfectly curved mounds of her buttock where much more defined in the full light, as was the ripeness of her thighs and calves. My right hand slithered down to rest on her right calf. I waited.

She switched the channel then settled down without looking back. I began to stroke her calf, gradually going down to the back of her knee. I wasn't doing anything new when Mom lowered her left leg down until it lay across my lap. My left hand started out on her ankle and moved in a gentle massaging motion along her calf to her knee.

I gave it ten minutes before starting to escalate things and pushing my frontiers. I worked my right arm around which momentarily annoyed her. When my intentions became clear, she relaxed once more. My desire was to bring her left leg up high enough so I could begin showering it with kisses. The spot just above the back of her knee was particularly sensitive.

When she began a slow, constant rumbling of pleasure, I changed up again. This time Mom waited patiently for my next move. I shifted my position so that I was on my knees, resting on the sofa, looking down Lydia's body. I had to gently press her legs farther apart to get to the desired place.

My tongue began flicking on that spot just above the back of her knees. She giggled slightly without giving me a sign to stop. My mouth started working up, alternating between her thighs. Sensing her enjoyment, I repositioned her legs farther apart, lowering her left leg off the sofa until her knee rested on the floor.

Now I could kiss the inside of her thighs. I swear I licked and/or kissed every inch of her upper legs, constantly bumping up against her ass, until I could definitely smell her aroma. Rubbing her ass and hips while planting kisses on her bikini bottom was my course to ratchet things up. When I took a sharp nip of her glutes, all she did was momentarily clenched her butt.

The first setback came after I my lips migrated past her ass to the small of her back. I put my hands under her hips, hooked her bikini bottom and got ready to pull them down. Mom pressed her hips into the sofa, warning me this was off limits. I redirected my palms underneath her, between her body and the sofa then inside her shirt, and roamed over the fleshy texture covering her tight abdominal muscles.

I rolled her shirt up until her breasts risked exposure, though she was lying on them. Lydia coughed. One cough and I altered course again. I rubbed the sides of her tits, still underneath the shirt. I massaged back and forth along her ribs, back and shoulder blades. My fingertips dug in deeply, working the kinks out of her muscles. Mom rewarded me with cleansing, meaningful sighs.

If it wasn't for the unfathomable acts I had already committed, I might have appreciated Mom showing me this relaxed side of her persona. I instinctively knew when I had pushed my limit with her unclothed exposure, pulling back my hands before she could do more than inhale for the next cough.

Instead, I fixed her top in place and caressed her back and sides above the shirt. A few minutes later, I propped myself on my right leg and arm. With my left arm, I pulled Mom's left leg back onto the sofa and positioned her two legs together. I imagined Mom was curious but she remained 'distracted' until I slowly lowered my body on top of hers.

My cock rested firmly between her butt cheeks and I supported my weight on my elbows. Lydia held off her reaction for a while, eventually resolving to close her eyes for a moment, murmur happily and wiggling and thrusting her ass against my rod. Next I hazarded a few kisses along the crux of her neck and shoulder. Mom pressed her body tenderly against me, showing really good muscle control and strength.

"Hair," I whispered. It took her a second to carefully reach back and pulled her hair over her right shoulder then put her hand back in place. I went back to the track I'd started with my lips, working my way up to the crux of her jaw and neck then doubled back to nibble her ear. She was happiest when I tantalized that crux so I upped my tempo on that area, tongue-flicking and kissing it urgently.

Lavishing attention on her jawline really turned her on. That realization came crashing down on my mind. I was openly sexually arousing my Mother. There was no pale illusion here. The second thing to occur to me was that Mom was being nice to me. We were in the same room and she hadn't bitched at me in an hour - a new World record.

My oral attentions on my maternal unit weren't saliva-heavy. Her skin wasn't wet, or slimy, thus not cooling her flesh, increasing her comfort level for a long while. Finally she did cough, signaling me to stop. I didn't have time to formulate a new stratagem before Lydia began pushing her torso upward. I went with her, leveraging my body away.

Mom moved her right arm down her side then brought the hand to rest strongly on my hip. She was restricting my movements. We went to all-fours before rocking back until my haunches rested on my heels and Mom was kneeling, her back snug to my chest. Her left hand came around and pulled my head back to her shoulder.

I kissed her shoulder gingerly for a few seconds. My arms wrapped around her chest right below her mammaries and engulfed her in a comforting embrace. Lydia tilted her head against mine, remaining still and silent for what felt like a long, long time.

"I am going to make dinner," she finally broke the spell.

I rolled my stance so that my left leg would no longer impede her exit.

"Thanks Mom," I replied in a low voice. She looked down at me as she stood.

"Make yourself useful and pick up around here," she ordered - old Mom.

"Okay," I grinned. She gave me this look I couldn't comprehend because I'd never seen it before. It was as if she liked me. As I said, this was something brand new.

(The Week)

That was how the rest of the week went. We got up for work around the same time. I had a part-time job installing appliances for a retail chain and for Mom it was the last week of public high school. Mornings were like the last fifteen years of my life - I even raised hell in kindergarten; Mother was snappish and I was insolent.

The difference was in how we parted. Lydia would turn to me as we were sniping at each other and say,

"Stop being such a naughty boy," and I would be quiet. She took that joyful experience to work. It may even have saved some poor child under her care, she was that happy.

I came home first, did a computer search and some phone contact about some available rooms to rent. I didn't own enough to warrant my own dwelling. Mom came home, we dressed in workout clothes and began exercising. I had never commented on her routine and she'd stopped ragging on me years ago. We freshened up separately (duh), dressed casually then set about the household choirs.

That's where the first change happened. I'd been jogging since I was twelve. Mom always used the treadmill until that Monday. That evening - the weather was hot and humid - she asked me if I was heading out, I confirmed that I was and she informed me she was coming along. It might have caused a seizure if she had actually asked permission to join me.

I killed her. Okay, I didn't actually murder her. When she made it a competition, I left her thirty paces behind and wheezing by the time we finished the 5K run. Mind you, my vision was blurry and my lungs were on fire, but I didn't show it. I did grin victoriously and let her know I'd beaten her.

"I doubt any one of your whores can do better," she panted angrily, once she found her breath.

"Indeed. You are the fastest woman I've ever met," I kept grinning. Mom studied me intently, her hands resting on her knees, to see if I was taunting her. I wasn't. To pay me back, she rose up, rolled her shoulders back and pushed her sports bra-covered chest out proudly. What a bitch. I growled, made a comment about a nice, cold shower and left.

The next relation-shift was after dinner. We'd sit down on the sofa, watching prime time TV - when Mom wasn't channel surfing - and relaxing. We never sat together before that Sunday. She had her own chair and the sofa was my domain ~ until now. Her new routine was to sit on the opposite end and lay her legs across me. Since I refused to give up an inch, this meant her thighs and knees were on my lap.

Added to this, Mom was wearing next to nothing. Bra and panties, or bikinis, were the new normal. My Mother had no problem letting me run my hands over the length of her legs, stomach and hips. Only the lower part of the pubic zone was off limits. On Wednesday, I chose a policy of denial. Mom got pissed and no amount of subtle hints would get me to engage.

Lydia was vicious, evil and sadly, smart. She pushed onto all fours, pretended to do some cat-like stretches then settled down so that her groin was resting on my lap. Yes, the precious, plush, puissant posterior was mouth-wateringly close. With a herculean force of will, I ignored it, focusing my activities to her thighs and back.

When she languidly raised her buttocks, I broke down and lavished all the attention on her derriere it deserved. This time, when my fingers wandered between her butt cheeks carefully, Mom allowed it. I didn't molest her pussy and she was happy to let my take pleasure from the rest of her muscular physique. No actual sex. Thursday, with the aid of my massage, she fell to sleep for real and I had to rouse her for bed.

Friday afternoon I found a room for rent nearby and close to the university. It turned out to be a surprisingly small world. The leaseholder on the apartment was known to me. She was a former member of Bianca's high school clique - Bianca didn't really have friends. She was also one of those girls who had stolen my towel and seen me naked.

She had initially been opposed to having a male roommate, but when she realized who I was, we had a good laugh and she agreed to show me the place the next morning - Saturday. All the workouts, jogging and showering had already been done and we were cleaning up the kitchen. Mom began that fateful conversation as we stood up from the dinner table.

(Changes)

"Benji, I need you to come with me to school tomorrow morning at nine," Lydia announced. "We will be packing up my office for the summer."

"How long do you think it will take?" I asked.

"You should inform me before you agree to extra shifts at work," she made an assumption.

"It's not work," I replied. "I'm checking out an apartment at ten." Silence. She started the dishwasher and I put away the leftovers. After that, I made my way downstairs while she went upstairs. I didn't see her for an hour. With some relief I noticed she was wearing a sleeveless back t-shirt and tight blue shorts with daisies on them when she did show up in the basement.

Had she been wearing lingerie, I would have forecast a disaster. Mom fixed a drink, walked past me to snatch the remote then took a seat in her recliner - just like old times. At the eight/nine primetime split, Lydia took a deep breath and stood. Scowling at me, she walked over to the sofa and sat down directly to my side.

For a few minutes nothing happened. Finally, Mom took my right hand and put it on her left thigh. It sat there, motionless and unmotivated by me to move.

"What are you waiting for?" she ground out.

"Mom, no amount of sex is going to make me stay at home with you," I murmured.

Lydia trembled. This was the final humiliation. She'd offered up her body, I had partaken and now I was refusing a second offering. To compound that, she, a rigid, moral person and educator, was offering herself to her son - who was rejecting her. Having established no other meaningful relationship in our first nineteen years together, this was all she had left.

Mom hated acknowledging failure. She was getting ready to unleash an epic tongue-lashing of hate, bile, and frustration.

"Mom, can I have five uninterrupted minutes with you, please?" I requested. She twitched.

"What do you want?" she whispered.

"I want you to have faith in me and I want to be open and honest with you," I told her.

"Why should I have faith in you?" Lydia turned on me and growled. "You've been nothing but dishonest and ungrateful."

"Mom, do what you think is best for you," I shrugged. The new program had come on the TV.

She sat back, crossed her arms and stewed in her own hatefulness.

"Five minutes?" she seethed. "What do you want me to do?"

"Listen to my suggestions and follow them within reason. I don't want you to do anything you really don't want to do, Lydia," I answered.

"What does this mean - for us?" she glared. She wanted a promise of something that I wouldn't give. She didn't get it, not yet.

"It means we won't be any worse off in five minutes than we are right now," I pledged.

"Fine," she growled.

"Stand in front of me," was my first direction. Anger radiated from her but she obeyed. "Part your legs slightly," she did. I put my hands on her butt-cheeks and pulled her into me. Reluctantly she fell onto me, her knees straddling my thighs. Mom's abdominal strength kept her from toppling and pushing her breasts into my face.

"Please place your hands on my shoulders," I continued. That accomplished, I snaked my left hand around to her mid-back and let my right hand become entangled with the hair on the back of her head. I pulled her face to me, but she resisted me forcing a kiss. I didn't coerce any tongue action, alternating kissing the corners of her mouth, the tip of her nose and her cheeks beside her nose.