Incest The Mom Memories" by 'alwayswantedto' collection

[sarit11]

 
"Why don't you take a tea break? It might help."
 
Mom didn't answer but a minute later, she reached over with her left hand to pick
up her tea. I experienced a heartfelt appreciation of the fact that Mom was a south
paw. Reaching across her right leg with her left hand to pick up her tea lifted the
left off the couch, allowing me to snuggle close like I had the day before.
 
"Tyson. Leave me some room," Mom chided me.
 
"I'm just trying to see what you're doing," I said.
 
Mom sipped her tea, then set the cup down and returned to her puzzle. I watched her
fill in a few words, then leaned across her to pick up her spare pencil from the end
table.
 
"Tyson," she complained.
 
"Sorry," I mumbled.
 
Mom completed two more words, then appeared to be stuck. I moved the tip of my pencil
toward the puzzle but she pushed it away. I tried twice more and was rebuffed both
times, the last time verbally.
 
"Stop it," Mom cried.
 
Dad looked up then and smiled. He seemed to discover his tea for the first time and
picked it up, draining it in one long gulp before returning to his book.
 
I moved the pencil toward the crossword but stopped when Mom's right hand moved up,
preparing to block mine. I hovered for a moment, then withdrew. About to move forward
again, I suddenly changed my mind and flipped the pencil end for end. The eraser now
pointed at the book.
 
"Don't you dare," Mom warned, obviously thinking I was going to try to erase one of
her entries.
 
"I wouldn't dream of it," I laughed.
 
Nor would I have ever dreamed that I would do what I did next. I moved the pencil,
but sideways instead of forward, until it bumped against the side of Mom's breast.
 
 
There was a pregnant pause as both Mom and I reacted to what I'd done. Or, I should
say, failed to react. I kept the eraser pressed against the side of Mom's breast,
fascinated by the way it actually moved as she breathed, and Mom just sat, rigidly
unmoving, her face still. Neither of us knew what to do next.
 
It could have been an accident. Was she waiting for me to acknowledge it as such,
to say... sorry, or just pull it away?
 
In defiance of all logic, I moved the pencil, but not away. Instead, I moved it down,
along the curve of Mom's breast, stopped, then dragged it up to its original point
of contact and even above, still in contact with Mom's mammary. Mom glanced at Dad
and I quickly shot a look at him as well. Then, the unimaginable happened. Mom raised
the crossword book up so it almost stood on her crossed leg, blocking the line of
sight from Dad to the tip of my pencil. Mom's own pencil once again contacted the
page and another blank space became a word.
 
I rubbed the pencil up and down the side of Mom's breast, almost cheekily, like a
spoiled kid announcing to his minder that he knew he was doing something wrong and
was enjoying it all the more because he was getting away with it. Mom filled in two
more words while the eraser fully explored the side of her blouse, at least the part
that swelled nicely. After that, she pushed the pencil away.
 
I picked up my mug, took a swig of tea, and asked, "So, exactly when is Lynn coming
home?"
 
My question hung in the air, orphaned for several long seconds until Mom responded,
tersely, "Two weeks from this Saturday."
 
"Oh," I said. "That soon?"
 
"Yes," Mom's response was even more curt.