A New Life

Early Beginning

It was an early Tuesday evening, and a fine one at that, when my twenty-two year old son came home from a shift of work.

A gust of chill November air blew through the door as he stepped inside, and half turned to close the door behind him. Kero, the family dog, was the first to greet him, a plush animal in his muzzle, muffling his happy greeting growls. I could tell by the set of Matthew's face that he had had a hard day, but Kero always brings a smile to my beautiful son's face. He knelt down and ruffed Kero's fur and rubbed his ears the way the dog loves, making low growling noises in the back of his throat in return to the Kero's. Kero trotted back over to where I lay on the couch, TV momentarily forgotten, and plopped down on the floor next to me.

Kero's a momma's boy, just like my sweet son. Twenty-two years old and still so loving towards others. Amazing, considering the hell his father has put him through.

His father and I divorced when he was a baby, but his father won custody over him through trickery and lies. Years went by, and my son finally came around once he learned the truth. He's been with living with me for a couple years, and the changes he's made are amazing. He's grown in so many ways, but will always be my little boy. Even the uniform of a State Park Ranger with a gun on his hip can't change that for me.

"Hard night, sweetie? Come and sit a bit, you look like you need to get off those feet for a bit." I said.

"Sounds like a darn good ideer ma, let me grab a beer first, and get rid of this iron." He said in a Texas drawl, gesturing at his hip, a hint of a devilish grin touching the corner of his mouth as he turned down the hallway, towards his bedroom.

"Want a beer, Sheriff?" I called out to him. Knowing the answer before the question was even out of my lips, already getting up and going to the kitchen to get one for him. The look on his face as he had opened the house door was all the answer I needed.

I was back on the couch waiting for him with a beer in my hand when he came back out, his weapon and day stuff put away. His shirt was un-tucked and unbuttoned, but otherwise was still in uniform.

He stood in front of the sofa for a moment and stretched his back, which popped in a short quick succession before sitting next to me, taking the offered beer.

"Thanks mom, I was looking forward to a drink the entire ride home. Hell, half the day, for that matter."

"Bad day, huh? What's up, hon?" I asked, hiding my concern as I flicked off the TV and tossed the remote aside before turning to face him.

"Nothin' much, just had to deal with a drunk beating on his wife. Fucking prick, I wanted to break his jaw, and damn near had to before the cops could get there to haul his ass away." His sigh told me the rest, that it was a bad one. He loves his career as a park ranger, but I still felt bad that he has to deal with such slime.

"Is she going to be okay?" I asked, moving a bit closer, and resting my hand on his leg, giving a gentle squeeze.

"Yeah, she'll be fine. Bumps and bruises, nothing broken, but the physical injury isn't what concerns me. Every blow just lowers her self-worth lower and lower. I wish I could offer her more help. At least she didn't have any kids to witness that, thank god."

Switching his beer from his right hand to his left, his now free hand resting on mine, taking a long draft of his Corona.

"Dinner will be ready soon," I mentioned, turning the conversation to a lighter direction. "Build up an appetite protecting the forest and the beavers?"

A wicked grin flashed across his face as he took a sip, and then lightly commented, "I'm not permitted to interact with beavers while on duty, ma, but yeah the forest is safe enough, and I could eat."

"Matthew!!" I cried out, and smacked his leg as he laughed heartily. I couldn't help but join him in his laughter.

Matt and I have a very close relationship. We're as much best friends as we are mother and son, and we're comfortable talking about most anything. We're closer than most families, I think, and I wouldn't change it for the world. I love that he feels so comfortable around me. He talks to me about everything; his work, girlfriends, and dreams are frequent topics, and him walking around home in nothing but his underwear is a common sight. I briefly wondered if I'd get to see him that way tonight, then quickly brushed the thought aside, putting it down to nothing more than pride at creating such a gorgeous body.

"Why don't you go take a shower? Dinner should be ready by the time you get out, and we can eat together." I suggested. "It might do some good, help loosen up those muscles, relax you a bit."

"Sounds like a plan. Care to join me?" grinning that devilish grin of his again, making me laugh.

"You nut!" laughing as I turned to go into the kitchen to set the small table, wondering why the offer sent a shiver down my spine. I quickly forgot about it as I went about setting the table. As I was placing the two dishes on the table, I heard his bedroom door open and looked up in time to catch the sight of him in his underwear walking toward the bathroom.

My eyes took in his form like they always do. A quick sweep of his body, taking in the tanned, firm flesh, the curve of his hips and tight buns flexing as he walked, down his legs and back up again.

Motherly pride. I told myself once the bathroom door was shut and the vision slowly faded from my minds inner eye.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fifteen minutes later, I heard the shower turn off, and dished up dinner for the both of us. As I was setting his plate down at his setting, he emerged clad in only his underwear, and headed right to me. My eyes caught at his crotch, the outline of his package clear to the eye in his tight fitting briefs. The look was more out of reflex than desire, and I was embarrassed to feel my cheeks flushing.

"You ok mom?" my son asked, pulling his chair out and sitting down across from me.

"Yep, fine-o. Have a good shower, hon? You look better. Smell better, too." Giving him an evil look of my own.

"Oh gee, thanks ma! Nice to know you approve my present body odor." He shot back, and reached under the table and pinched my leg, bringing a yelp and a smile from me.

We ate in comfortable silence, and afterward he helped with the dishes.

"Your sister is coming up this weekend" I said, ending the silence.

"Oh yeah? She gonna spend the night?" he asked, as he fed Kero a leftover scrap.

"Yep. You still have the weekend off, right?"

"Sure do, unless they call me in at the last second. I doubt that will happen though."

"Good! Be ready to party then, baby! By the way, check the cupboard above the stove" I told him, giving him a poke in the back before turning back to the sink.

"Cool, we were outta rum, I was going to pick up a bottle on the way home but I forgot. Glad I did now!"

I had gone shopping that day, and picked up all the makings for some fine rum punches.

My daughter is twenty-five and has her own apartment down in the city, and spends the weekend up with his every other week or so.

"Hey mom, I'm gonna go lay down for a bit. My back hurts like hell, and I seriously need to get off my feet for a bit. Is there anything you need done before I do?"

"Nope, I'm fine sweetie. Are you all right? Anything I can do to help?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine... would you mind rubbing my back a bit for me? Maybe it'll put me to sleep. I'm wiped out."

"You bet. C'mon cutie, in bed with you!" I commanded as I pushed him towards his room.

He flopped down in his bed without bothering to turn the light on, and I had him roll over onto his belly. I went past his room and entered my own, and pulled a bottle of heating massage oil out of my nightstand drawer, then returned to his room and sat on the bed next to him. I poured some of the oil into my hand and warmed it up with my skin and breath, before gently rubbing it over his bare back and shoulders, until I had covered those entire areas with warm oil.

I began to rub and knead his stiff muscles with the balls of my thumbs, bringing a sigh of pleasure from my son. I continued to massage his back, my hands working all the way from his shoulders down to the waistband of his underwear, and back up again.

After a while of this, his breathing evened out and slowed, and I realized he had fallen asleep. My hands slid up and down his back slowly, fingers splayed out, caressing him as he slept. My fingers touched the waistband of his undies, and I paused there.

It's just a massage... besides, he's my baby, Imade him, I gave birth to him, there's no harm in just going a bit lower. It's not like it's his penis, after all. I told myself.

I gripped the waistband and very slowly started to pull them down, being careful not to disturb him. The thundering of blood in my ears drowned out the sound of my son's soft breathing, my heart pounding hard enough to make me fear it would burst in my chest. I realized my lips were parted and I was breathing in through my mouth, in a near pant. I continued to pull his last piece of clothing down, until his rear was completely exposed to me. I kept sliding them down, and off, knowing he sleeps in the nude.

I added more oil to my hands, and warmed it for him. I reached down, my hands trembling slightly, and I flicked a glance up at the side of his face to make sure he was asleep. That confirmed, my hands finished the journey that seemed to have begun an hour ago and touched his firm, tanned cheeks. My mind filed this fact away for later, and I took a deep, steadying breath, then began to caress up and down over his cheeks, coating them entirely in a sheen of oil. I slowly massaged his butt, relishing the feel of those gorgeous cheeks under my hands. He felt so wonderful, looked so sexy, so inviting. I slowly slipped the tip of my index finger up the length of his crack, and back down, the tip of my finger slipping in between his cheeks easily because of the oil. I stroked back up again, my finger sinking in a little deeper, and brushed against the hidden hole. Matt moaned softy in his sleep, surprising me, making me jerk my hand back.

I sat stone still, in fear that he had woken up, and waited, counting to fifty silently to myself, my eyes glued to his face. After I had reached fifty, I did the silent count again, just to make sure, then slowly slid my finger back into the crack of his rear. I watched his face intently as my finger once again found his soft little hole, and I began to massage it ever so softly. Matt groaned softly, and shifted position in his sleep, his legs spreading a little, seeming to invite me inside him. My eyes traveled down to the cleft in his legs, and I saw that his movements had freed his balls to my view. I groaned softly, my lips suddenly painfully dry. I licked my lips, and gazed over his smooth, soft balls. I was shocked to see that they were completely hairless.

Does my little baby boy shave himself? How interesting... I wonder if the rest of him is like this? I thought to myself, eyes tracing over everything; his smooth, soft looking balls, which seemed to be aching for a tongue to lick them, to his firm rear, shiny with oil, my finger buried in his cheeks, the tip lightly massaging his tight hole. I gasped in air between my teeth as realization struck me.

Shiny! Oh shit, that oil is going to be there when he wakes up, and he'll know I didn't stop at this back!My heart seemed to stop for a moment when I realized just what I had done. Oh my god... its not just over his cheeks, it's inside them as well! He'll know his mother was fingering his ass as he slept! Oh good lord what did I do...

In a stupor, I carefully stood and covered his now naked body with his comforter, then quickly left his bedroom, shutting the door behind me. I went across the hall, my bare feet brushing over the carpet, and entered my own room, shutting that door as well. I suddenly wanted a lot of space between us.

Fear, doubts, and confusion were battling for supremacy in my mind. I quickly disrobed and climbed into my bed, and lay there for a while before I was finally able to drift off to sleep, my last waking thoughts filled with concern that my son would find out and hate me like he hates his father.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That morning I woke to a sunny, chilly morning, the sound of birds singing out the arrival of a new day to all the world.

I quickly got out of bed, and headed to the shower. I took a long one, basking in the hot water. After what was surely half an hour, I turned off the tap and stepped out, drying myself off quickly. I pulled on my terrycloth robe that my darling son had given me one day as a "just because" gift, and opened my bedroom door. I peeked down the hall, and saw that Matt's door stood open, telling me that he was up and about. I took several deep breaths, collected myself, and forced myself down the hall, past the living room, and into the kitchen, where I knew he would be.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee permeated the air, and the sizzling of bacon met my ears. There was a setting for two on the small cherry wood and oak table, and my son was standing at the stove, attending to a pan of scrambled eggs. The toaster popped up, golden brown toast ready.

"Wow! This is nice hon, thank you! How long have you been up?" I casually asked him as I leaned against the counter next to him, aiming for an appropriate level of nonchalant and hoping I wasn't overdoing it.

"Not too long, 'bout an hour. I started breakfast when I heard the shower quit. How'd you sleep, ma?" he asked as he flashed me a bright smile that melts my heart.

"Meh, so-so. How 'bout you, sweetie?"

"Like a rock, thanks to that awesome massage you gave me. Thanks mom, I really enjoyed that. Maybe I can pay you back some time?"

That grin again. The one I can never seem to see through.

Does he know what I did? Is he referring to that? Or was it all an innocent massage to him? Only one way to play this through... act natural; I have no choice. Look enthusiastic.

"Hell yes, that's one favor you can pay back any time, as often as you'd like!" I exclaimed, and gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"That a promise? I'll hold you to it if it is ya know!"

Was that a wink?

"Absolutely that's a promise! Need any help with breakfast?"

"Nope, I got it all under control little lady, just sit your tush down and I'll handle the rest."

So I seated myself at the table and let my boy serve me breakfast, all the while fragments of our short conversation repeating in my mind, trying to decide if he knew or not. But if he knew, why would he play so innocent?

Maybe he's afraid that if I know thathe knows, it'll ruin our relationship, and he doesn't want that any more than I do. That makes sense. Maybe he does know, and is willing to let it go, maybe has already forgiven me. I'm only human after all, and he knows full well I haven't had a boyfriend in years. Maybe it's time I go out and get laid. Just a one-night stand, to take the edge off.

We had a nice breakfast, and after a while I was able to clear my mind of guilty thoughts. We talked about our plans for the day, my son having a noon to nine pm shift, and me having an eight am to five pm shift at the hospital. I'm a pediatric nurse, and have steady shifts at our local hospital.

Afterward, I cleaned up the few dishes left that my son hadn't already taken care of, and chatted with him for a bit before I had to get dressed. As I was in my room changing, I heard the shower start. The thought of him in the next room, naked and glistening wet with hot water sent a shiver down my spine and into my loins. It was suddenly very tempting to join him. I hadn't seen him naked since he was a baby, and I was very curious how much he had grown in the years since. Does he have a dark patch of pubic hair above his undoubtedly lovely penis, or was it shaven?

Maybe just trimmed neatly, I thought to myself. While he was comfortable around me in nothing but his underwear, he was very careful not to be seen totally nude. It occurred to me that he might not have very much experience with women. He had never brought a girl home, and to my knowledge has never gone out on a date. He hasn't shown much interest in finding a girlfriend; all his energy has been directed to his career and helping to take care of me. The thought made me feel guilty, that I should be the soul benefiter of his attention.

He's much too sweet and loving to be confined to having his mother be the only female influence in his life, I thought to myself. All his girlfriends have been Internet relationships. Maybe I should encourage him to get out there and hit the dating scene. I'm sure he has no trouble pleasing the ladies with a body like that, and more importantly, he's so self-sacrificing. I'm sure that follows him into the bedroom as well. I bet he'd be an incredible lay.

This last shocked me out of my thoughts. Was I just picturing making love to my son??

No, of course not. Just motherly pride at having a son that would be so attentive in all aspects of his life.

I looked down at myself and saw that I had buttoned up my blouse crookedly, my thoughts had distracted me so. I felt my face flush as I hurriedly fixed the buttons, and took a step towards the dresser to retrieve my pants, when I felt a warm, slick sensation between my thighs. I paused, then slowly slid my hand down into the crotch of my white cotton panties, the ones with the frills along the waistband, and gingerly felt myself.

Good god, I'm soaking wet. I marveled at myself. Did my dirty thoughts of my son get me so turned on?

I stood there a moment, my thoughts a jumble of incoherent babblings, insisting that this was wrong, so verywrong, but then again it's just a fantasy, and fantasies can't hurt, can they? but when did it turn into a fantasy I thought it was just motherly pride, right?

Yes, of course that's all it is, I'm just under-sexed and need some release and my mind is grasping at any stimulus it finds, that's all it is. I just need to get some release, and then everything will be just fine.I glanced at the clock, and did a quick estimation. Yes, I've got time for a quick one. Just a quick one then I can get rid of these thoughts and go about my day just like I always have.

I quickly stripped my panties off, and brought them close to my face, looking at the crotch of them closely, and gave them an experimental sniff.

God, these are soaked right through. I'll have to put on a fresh pair, after.

I tossed them onto the hamper next to the door, and stretched out on my big, king-sized bed, eyes closing as I allowed my hands to roam my body. The palms of my hands slid down my sides, and over the swell of my full hips, one of my favorite features of my body.

I am by no means a vain person, but I do allow myself to take pride in my body, at least to a small degree. I've given birth to two children, yet still see the eyes of strange men on the street taking in my appearance in a gaze that is something more than simply casual interest. I'm not a bombshell, I'll be the first to admit that, but I'm no ugly tramp either. I enjoy the feel of their eyes roaming my five-foot-eight-inch body, can almost physically feel their eyes linger on my thirty-six C breasts. I am full-blooded Italian, moved to the US with my parents when I was a child, no more than 6 years old at the most. I allow my deep auburn hair to grow long, down to the middle of my back. I find it accentuates my hips, and I've been told my jade-green eyes are enthralling.