Albert was sitting in front of the living room TV when his mother came home from her date. She glanced at him suspiciously as she stepped in the front door closing it behind her. “Were you waiting up for me young man?”
The sixteen-year-old looked down at his lap sheepishly and smiled. “Sort of,” he replied honestly.
Moura laughed and ambled behind him ruffling his hair playfully. “Worried about me Honey?”
“Well Jeez Mom, there’re a lot of crazy’s out there and it’s past midnight. Besides, I don’t trust that Dave guy.”
“And why not?” she asked stepping around sitting in the sofa next to him.
“I just don’t like the way he looks at you, like he’s mentally undressing you.”
“I hope he’s got a good imagination because that’s about as far as he’ll get,” she said grinning. With that, she unbuttoned her Pierre Cardin jacket and removed it tossing it on the sofa.
Albert’s eyes almost popped out of head as he glimpsed at his mother in her dress. “You went out in public like that?”
My problem was that I was too shy.
Take the time when Mum and I kissed under the mistletoe at Christmas. Admittedly, she'd had a few glasses of wine, but we'd never kissed like that before. She pulled me under the mistletoe, laughing, and took my face in her hands and kissed me on the lips. She was wearing a shortish skirt and a sleeveless silk blouse, with a sprig of holly in her hair, and it felt marvellous when I put my arms round her.
But then I felt her soft lips moving on mine, and her bare arms slid around my neck. Involuntarily, I held her closer, and her body moulded itself to me. The kiss lengthened — it must have gone on for over a minute, which is a long time when you're kissing your mother, and it would have been impossible for her not to have felt my growing erection pressed against her belly. Her eyes were closed, and then the tip of her tongue roamed over my lips.