Under the blanket with Mom #2

Part 1: https://m.poringa.net/posts/relatos/4580017/Bajo-la-manta-con-mama-1.html
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The next morning, I woke up on Dad's sofa. I didn't remember falling asleep there. But I definitely remembered what had happened the night before. I went upstairs, feeling like I was on a strange path of shame. I told myself that what I remembered couldn't have happened. After changing, I went out to do my first morning run of quarantine. Mom was already at the entrance, stretching. I froze, anticipating an uncomfortable conversation. Instead, Mom just nodded with her chin towards me. Maybe I really had dreamed the previous day. We took a short walk around the neighborhood for a mile. I knew I needed to do more, but even after that small distance, I was already breathing hard. It's amazing how quickly your body can give in if you let it. Plus, I was still caught up in what had happened and Mom's seemingly unbothered attitude about it. We got home and I showered. Lost in myself. When I came down, I found Mom humming and preparing breakfast as usual. I sat down in front of a steaming cup of coffee and a small stack of pancakes. During the middle of eating, I waited for Mom to say something, but she acted like everything was normal. Finally, I had to speak up. Mom, about last night, I said. What happened last night? Mom asked, looking at her phone distractedly. When we were watching the movie, I said, when you were... when I... I told you, sweetie, it's perfectly natural to react that way, Mom said. She got up and started cleaning the table. The rest of the day was a haze of confusion. I considered all the crazy options I could think of. Maybe Mom had been drunk. Although I knew she hadn't had any alcohol. Maybe Mom had gone temporarily insane or accidentally hypnotized me somehow. Could the extraterrestrials have possessed her for a period of five minutes? And did she force me to make myself masturbate? For some reason? Everything was ridiculous. But was any of my theories stranger than the fact that my own mother had been caressing me while watching TV and then pretended it hadn't happened? Once again, after we finished dinner, we went down to watch a movie. I sat on the sofa and discovered, to my consternation, that I was already hard. Apparently, my body was ready. Masturbation had only occurred once, but I was already conditioned to expect it. Pavlov would have left me drooling in no time. My penis protruded like a sorcerer's wand. And I knew exactly where I wanted to go. I grabbed the blanket to cover myself as Mom came down the stairs, hoping she wouldn't see me. Mom chose Pregnant because, of course, she then sat beside me on the sofa. My erection went from rigid to furious when Mom's hips pressed against mine. I noticed she had both hands under the blanket. Ready to start, kiddo? she asked. I turned on the movie. Almost immediately, I felt Mom's warm palm touch my bare leg. This time there were no pretenses. She went straight for my shorts and pulled them down. Then she grabbed my hard penis. Mom, I said. What's going on, dear? Mom asked. You're doing it again, I said. Are you sure? Mom asked, a mirror of the previous night. Very sure, I said. Really, Mom said. She pulled her hands back so I could see them. Her wedding ring sparkled in the basement lights. Are you super sure about that? Because I want to make sure we understand each other. What you're saying is happening, does it feel good? I had to admit it did. It felt incredible. Good, Mom said, but here's the thing. If I were doing what you say, I'd be wrong. Moms aren't supposed to do that kind of thing with their kids. Then, I would have to stop. But if you don't know what I'm doing. If neither of us is sure, then who can say what's happening? It might be nothing at all. And that amazing thing that you like so much could still be happening. My mother smiled at me, a small sparkle in her bright blue eyes. Did I tell you my mom was beautiful? She was jadedly beautiful. If it's under the blanket, I said, then it's fine. Mom tilted her head slightly, as if waiting for me to help her think more. Because what I'm feeling could be anything, I said, I would have to look to be sure. You would do that, she said. And I just don't have the energy to do that right now, I said. Mom smiled at me. Well said, she said. She slid her hands under the blanket. As soon as I put the movie on, mom grabbed my penis again. Oh, mom, I groaned. Now if nothing's happening, we shouldn't be making noise, she said. Right? I nodded, already completely under the control of the hand that was gripping my penis with force. Mom worked from top to bottom, languidly. Unlike the urgency of the day before, my mother took her time, joking and building gradually as we watched TV together. A few moments later, she increased the speed of her blows. I muffled a small groan, making my best effort to keep it under control like mom had told me. I reached my climax a moment later, biting down to avoid letting out my groans. My semen seeped hot onto mom's fingers. Can you pause the movie for a moment? she asked. It seems I have something in my hand. Probably moisturizer, I said. Mom smiled at me. She seemed so happy now that I was following her game. Probably, she said, and then got up to go to the bathroom.

I woke up early the next morning, this time in my own bed, and got dressed to run. Again, my mother was waiting for me. We leave and start trotting around the neighborhood. Spring was in full bloom, plants were sprouting, the ground was moist from morning dew. The streets, however, were strangely empty. Everyone was inside. It was rare. As if we had entered a post-apocalyptic place. Mom caught up to me. She was wearing black tights and a sleeveless blue shirt. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail. I'm giving you quite a workout, she said between gasps. The trainer will kill me if I'm not in shape when we get back, I said. Well, do what you need to. Your old mom will have to do her best. Mom, you have to stop saying you're old, okay? You're young, your body is fantastic, you're super beautiful and... Super beautiful, huh? Mom said. We both started blushing. Instead of responding, I quickened my pace. When we got home, I showered in the hallway bathroom while Mom cleaned up the main one. Then we met up again to have breakfast. Mom had served granola for the two of us and we were eating it in silence. You know, I didn't think it would be possible, but I think I've finished with the obscene comedies, Mom said, at least for now. Ah, I said. I looked down at my bowl. Of course this was going to happen. Mom wasn't going to masturbate every night until the end of quarantine. It was a silly thing for me to expect. Especially after I made a mistake and told her she was attractive. We should start watching other things, Mom said. Great! I said: That sounds good. Good, Mom said. And I swear she shot me a small wink while going back to eating. After dinner that night, I went downstairs and found Mom already waiting for me, sitting under the blanket on the sofa. Boogie Nights? I asked, looking at the screen. Trust me, Mom said. I pressed play. It didn't take long until both of us were clearly altered by what... I was passing the time. Evidently, Mom came over and put her hand on my bare leg. A moment later, it was my bare penis that she was holding in place. 'Drink?' Mom asked, pausing the movie and looking at me. 'What's up?' I asked, trying to sound normal while the woman who gave me life was making my lifetime masturbation. 'Well, hmm, I'm not exactly sure how to say this', Mom said, 'It's just that, well, if something could be happening under the blanket...' 'Could it,' I said. 'Or maybe not', Mom said. 'Correct', I said. 'But if so', Mom said, 'then it's also possible, although not certain, that something is also happening to me. Under the blanket. Not that I know for sure, of course'. My eyes opened when I realized what Mom was trying to say. 'Theoretically, of course', Mom said, 'Well, anyway. Something for philosophers, I suppose'. Mom took the remote control and clicked play again. I waited a moment, especially trying to overcome the shock that was overwhelming me at the time. Mom still held my penis, but wasn't moving. Then, when I saw she was focused on the movie, I slid my hand under the sheets. I gasped when I touched her warm bare thigh. 'Are you okay, sweetie?' Mom asked. 'Yes', I said. I expected Mom's usual jeans, but clearly she wasn't wearing them. I moved my hand up, feeling her creamy skin under my fingers. I expected to hit the waistband of her shorts, but those weren't there either. This time I managed to suppress my surprise. Was Mom completely naked below the waist? I moved my hand up and discovered that no, she was wearing panties. But that was all. Only a thin layer of transparent fabric separated me from the same canal that once gave birth to me. I touched the reinforcement of her underwear. They were soaked and warm. The movie had gone completely for me. In fact, I was so focused on feeling the most private part of... My mother who almost lost the trail of her hand on my penis. Softly, I began to sonar the center of mom with my fingers. 'Hm', said mom. 'The movie is good', I said. 'Oh, yes', said mom. I have to admit that I was enjoying giving it a turn to the omelette. Feeling mom's vagina through her underwear was pleasant, but I knew I had to risk going further. Never forgive myself if I let the opportunity pass. I parted mom's underwear and felt her naked vulva for the first time. Her lower lips were full and open. Her pussy practically had a welcome mat outside because it was so open and exposed. Mom wasn't joking about being excited. She had touched many girls, it was the game of success that all boys played, so I felt pretty good with my skills to excite mom. I traced smoothly around her vagina until I found the small protuberance that would surely bring her pleasure. Then I started caressing it from side to side. I was touching mom's clitoris. I was playing with her vagina. I could feel how hot and wet she was. Oh God. While working on mom, she redoubled her efforts on my penis. We reflected each other's movements. As if we were guiding ourselves with our respective sexes. Every time mom slowed down, I did the same. If she accelerated, I equalized that too. I managed to make mom come first. Is it rare for this to have been one of the moments of greatest pride in my life? I saw mom getting rigid, her face flushed, and then she let out a long sigh. A moment later, she brought me my own pleasure. I came strongly, covering her hand and the blanket with my ejaculation. Both of us sank into the cushions, looking at each other playfully. 'Things in your hand?' I asked. 'Strangely, yes', said mom, 'You?' 'A little', I said, 'but it doesn't matter, really'. 'Oh, me neither', said mom, 'but we should take care of that'. Both of us got up And we went to the basement bathroom. Mom went first and I followed her. While I was drying off, mom called out to me from the sofa. You know, I think this blanket is stained, she said. Oh, I said, That's very bad. I think we should throw it in the washing machine, mom said, but don't worry. I'm sure I can have it ready for the movie tomorrow night. Yes, I wouldn't like to be cold, I said, taking mom's blanket and putting it in the washing machine.We established a completely new routine. In the mornings we would wake up and go for a run. Then we'd wash up and have breakfast. We spent half the day doing our own thing. I had class and Mom had her things. At night, we'd prepare dinner and clean together. But we stopped watching movies. It didn't seem like there was any point. Since we weren't really paying attention, we could've been watching any old program. Every night we'd sit under the blanket on Dad's sofa and hold hands. Each of us pretending as best we could that nothing was happening. Now that I knew I could trust her, Mom started changing her habits. Sometimes she'd discover she'd put lubricant on the palm of her hand. Holy shit, I came so hard the first time she did that. Other times she'd use her other hand on my balls, taking them lightly while drying them off. She also changed her movements, up and down or like a bottle opener or running her thumb along the underside of my penis. Once she did all those things at once and I almost died. I had to follow her inventive rhythm. I pulled out all the tricks I knew. I played with her clitoris again, yes, but also slid a finger inside her (the first time I did that, I actually came without Mom needing to touch me). I discovered that Mom generally liked a combination of two fingers on her pussy while my thumb rubbed her clitoris. Her ass, on the other hand, was completely impossible. Yet, I found many other ways to make things interesting. Just like me, it seemed like Mom loved variety most of all. We never talked about our nighttime activities between us. Once we were both satisfied, we'd turn off the TV and go to bed. The next morning, we'd do it all again. Nothing had changed. Honestly, I believed nothing ever would. Have you had sex? Mom asked, as if it was a Mother-son conversation totally normal. We were sitting outside in the backyard. Mom's feet were on my lap and I was slowly painting her toes. I had already finished with them, going from a dark purple to a lovely canary yellow. The problem was that Mom's question actually felt perfectly normal. This strange existence we had where both of us played regularly while pretending not to, meant we could have these incongruous conversations that seemed like they should be strange but were actually ordinary. Yes, I said. Cassie? asked Mom. It said a lot about how much time and masturbation had passed that I didn't even flinch when Mom mentioned my ex. Honestly, the only girl on my mind those days was the sexy and sensual woman whose toenails I was painting. I had sex with Cassie, yes, I said. Was it good? asked Mom. I looked at her. I wasn't sure if it was a trap question. You don't tell the person you're playing with that you had incredible sex with your ex. But mom and I weren't doing that. Or so I thought. I decided to respond honestly. It was okay, I said, Cassie had many complexes. What kind? asked Mom, leaning forward as much as she could with her foot in my hands. She was, well. She had a little fear of my things. You know what I mean? Honestly, can you blame her? asked Mom. I took the pill and we always used condoms, I said. I was surprising myself with how sincere I could be. Even oral. I never really got to enjoy my... Well, when I... You know. How was it that I was sharing an orgasm with my mom every night but couldn't say the word during the day? I understand, said Mom, You felt like you did everything possible to excite her, but when she did it for you, it wasn't the same. Yes, I said, Exactly. Once, however, we got drunk and did it and it was like being with a different person. She abandoned all her problems completely and was incredible. The next morning, she was angry. However. She said everything was my fault. 'Sweetheart, you're one of the few people who can understand', Mom said, 'Considering our family history. Honestly, we would have been much happier if you had a little more healthy fear of ejaculation in your girlfriend'. 'And then I wouldn't have you', I said. 'Oh, sweetheart, that's not what I mean'. 'Do you regret having me?' I asked: 'Did I ruin your life?' 'No', Mom said, 'You're incredible. Having a child was the best thing that ever happened to me. Wish it had happened when I was 28 instead of 20'. I understood. Of course, I did. I nodded and went back to painting Mom's pinky finger. 'The truth is', Mom said, 'if I ever had the opportunity to trade, would I be able to go back and be a normal mother? Yet I would still choose you every time'. 'Why didn't you have more children?' I asked. I knew it was an impertinent question, but I couldn't help it. 'You said you loved having me. You're still young. Why not more?' 'Well, taking care of one was enough', Mom said, 'and then your father started working. One day, I looked up and you were going to college. But...' Mom turned away, blushing. 'What?' I asked. 'Well', she said weakly, 'your father and I... After you moved out, I missed having a baby nearby. So we've been, you know. Trying'. Mom looked at me anxiously. 'Great', I said, 'I'd love to have a little brother or sister'. Mom let out a big sigh of relief. As if she had really been anxious about how I would react. It's true that it would be strange if I were still in college with a sibling who was still in diapers. But Mom was so young that it made sense that she wanted to start a second chapter of family history. I suppose when Dad gets back, you can try again, I said to her. For some reason, that thought bothered me. I suppose so, Mom said, and gave me a vacant smile.

******************** The next morning, we woke up for our morning run. Days were getting hotter and there were more people on the streets with us. The world was slowly waking up. We had run five miles a day and I was starting to feel really good. It was warm enough too, where I could run without a shirt. I tried to convince Mom to wear only a sports bra, but she said she didn't feel appropriate exposing herself that way.

We were going at our usual pace when we turned the corner onto a quiet and tree-lined street. We were doing so well that I was starting to think about pushing it, maybe even 7 miles. Mom used to follow me when we ran, but when we turned the corner, she caught up to me. She looked at my bare chest. For a moment, I saw her eyes widen. Then she fell back. Mom? I turned around, thinking I had lost my rhythm. Instead, I found her lying in the middle of the street. Mom! I ran back and knelt down beside her. Mom was lying on the ground. She had a slight scratch on her cheek. She looked at me, her small blue eyes scared. I tripped, she said, I'm fine. But her body contradicted her calm behavior, lying in fetal position on the ground. Can you stand up? I asked. Definitely, Mom said. She started to get up, but when she put weight on her left leg, she fell again. I hurried over to help her. Ankle? I asked, worried. If her ankle was broken, we would call an ambulance. Tendon, Mom said. Okay, maybe that wasn't so bad. Cautiously, I helped my mom get up. She was okay with her right leg, but held her left weakly. I can walk home, Mom said. She took a step, made a face and then gave another. I'm going to call someone, I said. No, said Mom, I'm fine. I observed somberly as I hobbled down the street. We were three miles from home. There was no way she could make it. Before I could argue, I ran and took my mom in my arms. I lifted her up like a baby and started walking back to the house. Mom wasn't small, but she was light. I hadn't done all that work on the upper body planning one day to carry a woman three miles, but it seemed a worthy reward at the time. We walked down the street; my mom clung to my chest. I'm sorry, said Mom. She was clearly embarrassed about what had happened. I guess I tripped over something. It's okay, I said, I'm glad I can be here for you. My little knight, said Mom, remembering her old nickname for me. Come and save me again. I wouldn't do it any other way, I said. Running three miles is very different from walking three miles. Especially when carrying someone. We had to stop a couple of times to rest. It took us less than an hour to get out, but getting back home took more than three. When we finally arrived at the house, both of us collapsed on the front lawn. We lay down in the grass, looking up at the blue sky. The day was warm. The air smelled like honeysuckle. The world was reassuringly quiet. This is nice, said Mom. No, it's not, I said. She stretched and grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly. Yes, but it is a little. I brought her hand to my lips and kissed it. Chivalrous to the end. For a moment, I thought Mom would yell at me for being affectionate where everyone could see. Where everything was public. But instead, she smiled at me. Eventually, we were able to get up and took Mom inside to her bedroom. Even as an adult, it felt strange to be in Mom's space. Like I had crossed an invisible barrier into my parents' private world. The room was well equipped with dark woods and a crimson duvet. She felt very mature. Quite reserved. I laid mom down carefully on her Queen-sized bed. Then I went down to the fridge and prepared an ice bag. When I returned, mom was reclining, with her head resting on the pillows. She still wore her jogging outfit: black fitted yoga pants and a sleeveless green top. Her horse's booty was twisted and her hair was sticking out in small golden strands. With everything that happens in the world, I really didn't want to take mom to the hospital. Instead, I searched what Dr. Google thought and elaborated a small plan. Rest and ice, mainly, while checking for swelling. I knew if mom couldn't put weight on her ankle, she'd go to the doctor, but I hoped it was just a sprain and she'd be fine. Once I was sure my patient was okay, I went and took a shower. Then I prepared breakfast and brought it up to mom. Do you want to take a shower too? I asked, hoping to have the opportunity to help her. I'm fine for now, mom said, and I knew I'd gone too far. Again, that was the problem of hiding our relationship under a blanket; it was impossible to really understand how it was. Instead, I had to guess and sometimes break the limits by accident. I knew I'd overstepped, so I got out of bed. Let me know when you're done, I said, I'll change your ice bag. It's good to have my little knight back, mom said. He never left, I replied, standing on her. Mom gave me a doubtful look. You're the one who left, mom, I said, bitterness dragging in my voice. You? You're the one who started spending all that time with dad, mom said, I thought maybe you'd just leave me behind. I thought I'd done something to make you angry, I said. I sat back down on the bed edge. So we both separate without reason, mom said, drawing a conclusion for both of us. I suppose so, I said, I'm sorry. I feel like we lost a lot of time together. I love you very much, Mom said, I don't want to lose anything else. I got up and hugged Mom carefully. She kissed me on the cheek and then we separated. Mom slept for a bit. I listened to the sound of water opening and realized she had gotten into the shower somehow. Around dinner time, I prepared a quick and easy meal. I took it to Mom in her bed. I sat down next to her and we ate. This is really good, Mom said. It's just pasta, I said, I think I learned from the best. Clearly, Mom said. When we finished, I cleaned up the plates and then went back. Mom's ankle was a bit swollen but there were no bruises. Based on my extreme medical education derived from the internet, I was pretty sure she hadn't broken or torn anything. Again, I decided to take a risk. Do you want me to help you put on your pajamas? I asked. Mom shook her head at me. I'll be fine like this. After the shower, she had changed into a surprisingly bold outfit (for her): shorts and a yellow sleeveless top. Okay, I said, see you in the morning. Hey, Jay? Mom called out when I got to the door. What's up? I'm sorry we can't have our movie night, she said, I know you've been enjoying it. I think you're also enjoying it, I said. Oh, sure, Mom said, I love watching programs with my handsome son. But since there's no TV here, I suppose we'll have to wait until I can move better. We can set up here, I said, I'll take my iPad and we can watch in your bed. That would be lovely, she said, her emotion seeping into her voice, I'd hate to break our tradition. I went to my room and grabbed my tablet. Then I got into bed next to Mom. We adjusted the screen between us and settled in. I found another senseless reality show about people doing gardening and turned it on. Mom snuggled up Under the blanket, so the sheets reached my waist and I did the same on the other side from my father's side. Suddenly I became very aware of what I was doing and where I was doing it. The guilt that should have overcome me never appeared. When the show started, Mom snuggled up beside me. She rested her head on my shoulder. Strands of hair flowed across my chest. At this point, I usually took the first step, coinciding with the stereotype of the overly anxious son. But that night I wanted Mom to initiate. I know it seems obvious in retrospect, but at the time I wanted to be sure Mom, in her injured state, wasn't really interested in just watching TV. Then I felt her small hand wrapping around my penis and all my questions were answered. 'This show is really good,' I said, as her agile fingers contracted on my penis. 'Mmhm,' Mom said distractedly. With nothing to stop me, I launched my hand between Mom's legs. She let out a muffled cry when I brushed against her vagina covered in underwear. 'Oh,' I said, moving my hand back to lightly caress the fabric of Mom's underwear. Normally, I wasn't that excited. Something about being in my parents' bed, touching Mom in her private place, had me particularly thrilled. 'Look, now I think they should start working,' Mom said after a time teasing me. I nodded. I found her clitoris with my fingers. She was particularly slippery that night and I wondered if some of the same thoughts that were affecting me were also affecting her. I looked at Mom. Her beautiful face was even more lovely in pleasure. In any case, the fact that she was trying to show nothing at all only made her seem more attractive. Mom's neck muscles were tense. Her thin lips. Her breathing was short and sharp. Damn it! Mom exclaimed while filling her vagina with my finger. Oh, that's a nice... floral arrangement. Very nice. Her embarrassment in front of her exclamation was almost as sexy as the sound itself. I think she wanted to have me the same way, so mom redoubled her efforts on my penis. She used all her secret tricks, caressing and rotating to make me react. I decided to get a little more with her. What can I say? I'm still a kid. Mom is just at the edge. I had reached this marvelous and intimate point where I knew mom's orgasm so well that I recognized all the signs. I realized she was about to reach her climax at any moment. Well, I think I'll go to bed, I said. What?! It's been a long day and I'm tired, I told her. Mom looked directly where my hand was, under the sheets. She had never recognized what we were doing more than this. Are you sure? she asked, her voice weak and sly. Not much more, right? I said. I made a show of looking exactly at the same place where she was. I didn't think it would admit what was happening. In fact, I knew that if she ever did, probably everything would be over. But as any good son, I liked to see my mother twist a little. Don't you want to see the end? mom asked. The program, I mean. I heard the climax is, um, really super good. I pretended to think about it. I suppose you're right, I said, Let's finish this before we finish the night. A moment later, mom arched her back slightly, letting out a quick and sharp cry. Ah! she said, then quickly raised her free arm in the air and stretched, I mean, ahhhhh. So tired. That was a great yawn, I said. Mom nodded. The biggest one I've had in a long time, she said, I must be very tired. She continued to caress me under the sheet. A moment later, my eyes slammed shut when my orgasm... I won. My body was trembling as I tried to contain it. I only had a partial success. 'That was also a big yawn', Mom said, quickly covering me up. 'It must be contagious', I said. We shared a smile. Our foreheads rested against each other. For a moment, it seemed like Mom was about to lean forward and... 'Oh! Don't you know?', Mom said, 'I have that darn moisturizer in my hand again'. 'What's wrong with you?' I asked, playful. 'Honestly, I don't know', Mom said. 'You can bring me a tissue', I said, starting to get up. 'Don't bother', Mom said, holding me back with her dry hand. 'You know, my chest has been feeling a bit itchy lately, I think I'll get rid of it there'. I watched, stunned, as Mom released my penis and put her hand under her own shirt. She grabbed her breast and started rubbing it slowly. Sensually. I didn't have a good sense of the size of Mom's breasts. And Mom always wore layers that kept them well hidden. Now, however, the whole universe could have exploded, and I would have been staring at my mother rubbing my semen on her nipples, spreading it circularly over her nipples. First one breast then the other. Gently moaning as she did it. 'That feels much better', Mom said. She reclined and sighed. 'How about another episode?' *************** Don't forget to leave your points for the next part!