Bobby and Susanna moved out here a month after their marriage. They took an apartment in Pacific Heights in San Francisco. Which meant he would have to make the effort to drive across the bay to see me. That arrangement left me very disappointed. I knew that my clever young self-centered dau-in-law would never really be fond of me, nor I her. I think part of it had to do with her very thin figure and some no uncertain envy over my middle-age voluptuous shape. In her mind,  a comparison between us was unavoidable for Bobby, like it or not. She knew it. Frankly, I liked my chances.  I had resented her right with our first meeting in Boston. And I simply didn't like her taking my son when I was very much mired in an emotional crises on the heels of my second divorce in 4 years. I could have used an affectionate son to help me through the healing.

Well, you never know how life can turn on a dime and surprise you when you least expect it. Susanna registered at the University for graduate studies and pretty much put her marital obligations in second place. Well, I can tell you that my son is  a big guy, with big appetites - at the dinner table, and - so I accurately deduced over the years - in the bedroom. He was also a big softie who would not complain over his wife's ambitions taking priority over his basic needs. 

An old Folk wisdom says that nature abhors a vacuum. In the case of what I just described, wifey Susanna was covered, her breadwinne at home and a scholarship at grad school. As for Bobby and I, two vacuums of discontent - separated by the Bay - suffered the pangs of an half-full heart, and another human hunger that would not remain untended for long. Nature would not abide that.

After promising my son that I would curb my use of alcohol, I was drinking more out of frustration and too much empty solitude. My ex-hubby Dr. Al had left all the empty vodka bottles in the top cubbard as a reminder of my weakness. It did naught to curb my habit. Not even the day I fell down a flight of stairs and broke an ankle.

The silver lining here was that Bobby began coming over to Oakland by himself. I needed him to bring in groceries and I needed him to rub lotion under the cast chafing at my right ankle. And when I asked him to buy a litre of vodka, he gave me a disappointed look, but complied with my request.

That evening, we watched TV and drank Stoli on the rocks. My co-dependent son liked his booze too.  I didn't last long. 

"You better pour me into bed, Honey", I said, aware of the slurring. Bobby helped me up and half carried me down the short hallway to my bedroom. It was a warm summer night, and he folded the covers way down and eased me into bed on to my backside. I was wearing a simple cotton gown and the front buttons left undone from my middle down let my legs feel the heavy air - from high on my bare thighs down.

Bobby stood, paused silently above me. "You gonna give your old mom a g'night kiss?", I purred. He leaned over me awkwardly, and our lips met...carefull, slow and very moist. Once. Twice. And another that brought breathy expulsions from our nostrils.    

"Do you want me to keep you company tonight, Mom?" his words tingling in my head. "You want to do that for me, Honey?, " I purred.

"Yes." The night lamp on the headboard cast an amber glow, and my eyes followed him. The sash on his robe was loose and I saw the front of his body, his chest and legs, as he settled in next to me. My chin was on my chest, and I found my eyes traveling down my son's casually exposed body. Neither of us moved or uttered a word. I saw his taught stomach muscles flexing, then the trail of hair down to his pubes. And there, big as life, his penis sprawled over the thigh closest to me.

Our eyes met again..and then I conciously looked down at his unfurling organ again...and then back up into his eyes, conveying this new sensual intimacy. Our faces in shadow, our eyes remained engaged, twinkling with energy...I felt a start when his fingers worked the remaining buttons of my gown open, taking forever it seemed.

"Um, you have a handsome penis, Bobby", the words broke our silence incongruously, with an odd detachment, but somehow right and easing the tension. His focused response was to take my hand and curl my fingers around the lambent shaft of a developing erection that pulsed with life. When his lips took mine again, I felt his fingers sweep over my plump belly and delve into the mat of damp curls over my pussy. His hand drifted down to my inner thigh and pushed. Then the other thigh. I'm in bed again with my son, and he's spreading me, I kept thinking. Suddenly, his hips lurched, my grip around him tightened to a fist, and my Bobby released a gutteral cry. The warm sprays of his semen fell onto my thighs, scattered on my stomach, and I kept a death grip on him, pumping until the last of his cum turned to a trickle. Under the circumstances, it just seemed my maternal obligation to him.

"I'm sorry, Mom'', his face pressed against my neck. "God Damnit".

"Shhhhh...go to sleep now. It's okay".  When he had dozed off, I dipped a finger into the semen puddling the hollow of my belly-button, and carefully transferred it into my vagina. Not tonight, but my boy will be back home inside where he belongs real soon. I was sure of how he still felt about me, his mother. A deeper family love beckoned and was not going to be denied us.