What’s a guy to do when the demons that haunt him, deep in the night—desperation, despair, and loneliness—won’t allow him peace? He goes in search of his mother, hoping, praying, that she can scare them away. How far should a mother go to give peace to her son?
The digital clock on their headboard read two thirteen, when I came to stand beside their bed. She opened her eyes as I began to lift the covers. “Miss your momma?”
I nodded, trying desperately not to cry. She brought her hand up to the back of my neck and ran her fingers through my hair, raking her nails over my skin. Slowly she pulled me to her, my cheek coming to rest on her shoulder as she kissed my forehead. We laid like that for many minutes, her caressing the side of my head and my ear and my shoulder and my back.
My arm was laying in the valley of her breasts, my hand up near her throat, and as I grew more and more relaxed I pulled my arm lower and toward me, pulling at her breast, experimenting with its elasticity, and when I got no reprimand from her, I moved to the other one, squeezing it gently, then again, this time earning a quiet moan from her. She captured my hand, though, pulled it back between her breasts, and held it there. “Go to sleep, baby.”
I settled against her with a sigh, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her breasts, and several minutes later I turned to press my lips to her neck, kissing her then sucking at her.
She laughed soundlessly as she pulled my hair, easing me away from her. She slipped her hand into the top of her nightie and pulled her breast free. Her fingers in my hair, she guided me to her, sighing when my lips closed around her nipple. “There you go, baby,” she whispered.
I rolled up against her, insinuating my knee between her legs, and ran my toes up the back of her calf, my rapidly forming erection pressing into her hip. But her thigh, I knew, was much softer, and I moved down, looking for softer skin as I sucked her nipple, toying it with my tongue.
Soon, though, I began to moan. She shushed me. “Quietly, my baby.”
I turned my face up to meet her gaze as I pulled at her nipple. She shook her head, smiling, as her hand moved down my back. As she had last time, she pulled me to her, trying to still me. “Slowly, baby. Your father needs his sleep.”
I pressed hard against her, clamping my thighs around hers as she moved her fingertips lightly against the small of my back, and when I began to throb she pulled me tight to her, kissing my forehead as the waves washed over me, over and over. When I moaned, she pulled me tighter to her breast, shushing me.
She sent me to bed afterward, reminding me, unnecessarily, to change my underwear.