Can there be a platonic love between mother and son?
I was in a trance all day and couldn’t concentrate on my work. Hiding in my office, not seeing anyone, not even my secretary, Winnie. Lest she ask questions, because she was too good.
Winnie is my “military advisor”, she is the closest person to me in the company, and is also a good secretary, who knows what to say to her bosses.
If I am in love, I can’t hide it from her because she knows the routine of my life and she has to organize what I do from morning to night. And she’d be the best at getting under my skin and admitting that I was in love. Who made me feel that way? I didn’t tell her. All she knew was that he was a guy younger than me.
This self-appointed love counselor said, “Sister love doesn’t matter. Look at Ting Feng and Faye Wong, aren’t they the envy of many? Don’t miss your chance, good men are almost extinct.”
It was just the encouragement I needed because I sometimes wondered if I should indulge myself like that. Sometimes the excuses would probe my progress and even ask, “Did you sleep with him yet?”
I immediately blushed with shame, I’d never thought about it in that way and thought it couldn’t happen, that sleeping with him was unthinkable.
”Winnie, we’re not going to sleep together, just be companions, platonically.”
”Don’t lie to yourself. It’s you who don’t have confidence in yourself, isn’t it. You think he’ll think you’re older than him and won’t sleep with you. It won’t happen, men and women love to bed when the love is strong. I see you reacting to him in more than a platonic way.”
”You don’t get it anymore.”
He doesn’t get it because my boyfriend is my and son. Love in bed with your son? No way. We were almost in love, but it wasn’t really love, it was just a mother and son spending time together. However, all the advice that Winnie gave me for my so-called “love life”, I applied it to my life with my son. Of course, I won’t go to bed with him, but it wouldn’t hurt to add a little romance to my life.
In the midst of his interactions, her half-joking words seem to make a bit of sense. My lack of self confidence in myself is what makes me put my full focus on my work, a strong woman, probably psychological compensation ……
However, being with him restored confidence. His words of praise for me, every one of them was a pleasant note in my ears, and I began to believe in my own attractiveness. Men have gazed at my lap and my son is no exception ……
I have so little experience in relationships compared to Yuni, who can count out her boyfriends one by one and tell me their strengths and weaknesses, including how they behave in bed. I’m not as open-minded as she is. People think I have a lot of skirt suitors, but there are actually very few. At my age, all the men I started out with were married. The ones who weren’t married were too unpleasant. Those who are less accomplished than me and younger than me are too afraid to reach out. Honestly, whenever a man would court me, I’d be on my guard for fear that I’d meet the wrong person and end up with nothing.
I had no desire to sleep last night, only because I saw him coming back from his run, his body, half-naked and youthful and fresh, in just a short pair of pants. The feeling of solid, well-proportioned muscles, the freshness of his skin, gave me a vibe of lust that cried out for more. I thought about him, he was sleeping just a wall away from me, and I wanted to go over and see his sleeping form and handsome face.
He’s my son! Why do I lose sleep over him?
In the morning before work, he knocked on my door and said to me, “Mom, remember I asked you out tonight. Wear something pretty, and wear those heels I gave you, okay? You wear fine? Heels are especially nice.”
I just became obsessed and spent half an hour in front of the mirror dressing up and finding a match for those heels. Finally thinking I looked good enough, I opened the door and came out, and there he was waiting for me, smiling at me. She tasted me from head to toe and I was relieved when he was satisfied.
He said, “Wow, you’re getting prettier and prettier!”
”Yes?”
”I don’t know how many lifetimes it takes to be lucky enough to ask such a beautiful woman to dinner with me.”
”Nonsense, don’t make fun of mom.”
”Would you rather I tell the truth or a lie?”
”Of course it’s true.”
He leaned in close to my ear and whispered to me, you’re really charming, and then gave me a soft kiss on the cheek, and my heart started pounding, and it’s been pounding ever since. Time passed slowly in the office, not in the mood to read papers. The incoming call wasn’t his voice and I only perfunctorily answered it.
Flipped through the cards and letters he wrote to me and read them over and over. He was a great letter writer and I loved his letters. He would send letters to my office. So made it my habit to wait for his letters. We lived under the same roof, but loved receiving his letters. Of course I wrote back. What was it about?
I can’t figure it out, it’s missing and caring for each other.
How does the mother express how she misses her son in her letter? What does the son say? I read and re-read the letters and found one more like a love letter than the other.
Winnie knocked on the door and wanted to come in, I seemed to be a thief and immediately put the letter away. Winnie came in and reminded me that it was five o’clock sharp and I was off duty.
I acted as if nothing had happened and hurried out of the office, Yuni then rushed up and asked me, “Seeing you dressed like this, you have a date again? Did you ask him out?”
She asked more, I’ve only been dating one person lately. The sweet look from the heart gave her the answer.
”Have fun. I’ve got a hunch you’ll have a romantic Tico’s night. Maybe they propose to you.” She whispered in my ear.
I can’t explain what Winnie said that made my heart flutter. I spent a lot of time listening to her give me ideas for my “love life”, and I knew in my heart that having dinner with my son and going to the theater were unrelated to what she was talking about, but the feeling of making it happen wasn’t far from it. I
Decide to let go, let nature take its course, grasp the present, enjoy life. Life is subject to too many constraints, these days are very happy, just let it be, why do you have to be hard to live with themselves, to avoid happiness?
I feel so blessed these days, since my son lost his love ……
His falling out of love became our starting point. I took him to bars to drink and comfort him. He lost a childhood girlfriend who I had recognized as my daughter-in-law. My son has no equal to others, fate is predestined by God, the beloved cicadas sway to other branches, the heart is painful, the frustration is great, but there are no girls in the world?
Then we had a lot of time together. He said that once upon a time he was so preoccupied with dating that he neglected me. And, he found out that his mom was a strong woman on the outside, very busy, but actually lonely and needed someone to pamper her.
So, we are often together, he called these times “dating”, he with the vitality of young people and his sense of humor, my boring and tense life added to the vitality.
What kind of things do two mothers and sons do when they are dating? Anything and everything, after work, on vacation, go to the movies, concerts, restaurants, trips together ……
So I started to have a private life besides work. Ever since the waiters at the restaurant we frequented mistook us for a couple, he suggested that we play a game where we pretend to be a couple right in front of them. When he called me his wife in front of the waiters, I covered my mouth and almost laughed out loud.
Tonight, that’s the restaurant we go to, the best in town. He picks me up in front of my office, and I always leave before my coworkers do, lest they run into him and gossip. His hand came out naturally and he let me help him into the car. I see now that the tie he knotted was one I gave him. In the compartment, he helped me to straighten my dress in a very courteous manner, and my sitting position pulled it up to show a section of my thighs above the stockings.
The pair of mesh stockings I’m wearing were chosen by him when we were shopping at the office together. He has great taste and is very good at making ideas for women. He has influenced the way I dress and taught me to be more sophisticated. For example, the theory that the style of high heels best complemented the line of my legs, he said, “Don’t bury your legs, a lot of men love to look at them.” He made all my new dresses a few inches shorter. I know people who love to look, and one of them is my son.
I wouldn’t be embarrassed when we walked together, his hand always resting gracefully at my waistline, above my hips. I would be unable to help myself, hooking my arm in the crook of his and letting him take me wherever he wanted to go. We would smile at each other with this demeanor; it was our unspoken agreement.
With him, one forgets the stress of work, and he fades away the pain of lost love. He told me a lot of stories about the friends he’s made and the things he’s done since middle school. I was so busy with my career that I neglected him, and he turned out to be so grown up.
Throughout the night, he gazed at me, sweeping over me with a particular look that was haunting me, seducing me. When our eyes met, I avoided them with a flash. In business, I was accustomed to gazing into each other’s eyes, looking straight into each other’s eyes and talking. After all, I was afraid of his eyes, because they had a lot to say. I seem to have understood, but do not want to understand.
Suddenly, I heard my name being called, and he put his hand up and lifted my face to me:
”Shia, do you mind if I call you by your first name? I think our secret will be revealed when the waiter hears me you’re a mom. Besides, I think calling you by your name is a little more intimate with you.”
I nodded and shook my glass, watching the candlelight reflected in the swirl of red wine.
”Shia …… are you listening to me?” I couldn’t stop hearing the name she called. And I was too distracted to remember what he said.
We wouldn’t hang out in crowded places, we’d go home after dinner, preferring to stroll along the beach near our home. Under the pale yellow streetlights, he would hold my hand and walk around the path to the beach. There, we don’t have to talk, we listen to the waves and count the stars ……
How he held my hand at first, I forget. I needed male companionship and he happened to be there. As we clasped our fingers, I felt an energy, channeled from my heart hand to his, that could heal his broken heart from a lost love. And from his burning hand, I received a weight of security.
It was as if a feeling I’d been sleeping with for years had given way to the awakening of a male companion I’d lacked for years. But it wouldn’t be him, and it couldn’t be. Because he was too young, and besides, he was my son. However, I let myself indulge in this feeling of being loved and adored, to the point where, with the right environment and atmosphere, some boundaries become more bunched up, and more intimate behaviors are performed, such as kissing.
We sat in the oceanfront chairs and watched the waves come up the beach in waves.
He called my name again affectionately, like calling a lover.
Wouldn’t we be a couple, his hands on my round shoulders, pulling the thin straps down and rubbing them uncontrollably. All I could see was his mouth moving, his voice so small it was muffled by the sound of the waves. One of his hands ruffled my hair and caressed my face. His arm wraps around my waist, and my whole body softens as I fall into his arms.
I said, no, wrong face. He pulls my face over and kisses me on the lips. I push him away, but he doesn’t let go, calling my name. I realize why my heart has been pounding since morning. Our lips intertwine and his hands reach under my skirt, caressing my thighs to the deepest part.
He said he’d been thinking about kissing me for a long time. He just didn’t dare. Tonight, he felt we were close, and could have been closer.
I said, “Why are you doing this? I’m scared.”
He said, “Don’t be afraid. The spell is broken. I can call you by your name and you respond again. When I call you mom, you play a role. When I call you by your name, you are my girlfriend.”
I said, “I’m not your girlfriend.”
He said, “You are, you admitted it. You let me kiss you, and you’re my girlfriend if you’ve given me a kiss.”
Not allowing me to speak, he closed me in his arms and kissed me frantically, meeting my lips. His hands caressed my body, probing under my skirt, teasing my private parts, and I was incapable of stopping them, my panties soaking wet, my nipples rising and standing erect.
He undid the clasp of my bra and let my breasts be covered by his palms, rubbing them gently. My panties, with stockings, were pulled off for him, and I took off my heels and lifted my legs so that he could pull them and the stockings from both my legs. He put them on his nose and sniffed them, then placed them in the outer pocket of his suit. My mind went blank and there was nothing under my skirt. Just his fingers, rubbing my pussy lips, then plunging in, searching for the stamen. I couldn’t stop trembling, like a leaf in the wind.
I rubbed my inner thigh against his finger without being able to call it off or wanting to because it felt too good. If he didn’t put his finger in now, I would put my own finger in when I went to bed to kill my desire. Not only can he use his fingers, but he has another thing that brings me real pleasure.
When he was about to lift my skirt up, I said, “Not here.”
My legs felt as if they didn’t belong to me, as he, step by step, walked home. Empty between my thighs, thirsty for something to fill it.
He wrapped his arms around me tightly and I snuggled into his shoulder. My heart beats harder; I’m going to cross the fence, with him, on a path of no return.
As soon as we entered the house, we kissed again. I was like a puppet, completely at my son’s beck and call. He caressed me and called me by name and began to remove my dress. I helped him by pulling down the spaghetti straps and pull-ups of my dress, removing my bodice and bra, and standing before my own son in all its splendor. I kept the figure for a man who might show up.
My son, too, is completely undressed and naked against me. His standing position lays bare the cravings of his wild flesh, uncovered.
Is this the man I’ve been waiting for all these years?
I covered my shame slightly with my hands and he moved closer to me, wrapping me me naked in his arms.
”Shia, what are you afraid of? What is there to be ashamed of in showing me your body?” He asked me.
I buried my head in his chest, not daring to look up at the man I was nakedly embracing. His hands gently patted my back, down the back of my neck and up my buttocks, caressing me uncontrollably, telling me:
”Shia, your body is beautiful, more beautiful than I could have imagined through my clothes. Don’t be ashamed of this beautiful body of yours. Please trust me and give it to me and I will love you very much. I know, you are a woman too, you need someone to love you. To love you.”
My knees go weak and I fall full length into his arms. He kissed me tenderly, picked me up, took me to the bed, crouched over me, and kissed me all over. My thighs automatically opened for him, allowing him to turn over the lips of my pussy, kiss me there, and then take in his desire for my flesh and admit it inside me.
That long-lost touch aroused my senses, bringing the encounter of desire and flesh to its truest presentation in our two naked, entwined bodies.
He said, “I’ll tell you, it was the most wonderful place.”
”But you shouldn’t. Tell me, when did you get this crooked idea about me?”
”The night you asked me to talk to you at the bar after I fell out of love. On the couch, I saw your thighs flashing in your skirt and got an erection, an erection for you that lasts to this day.”
”What are we going to do?”
”Make love first, talk later. I’ll tell you later.”
I rose and fell with his pumping. He was right, I was a woman too, and I deserved to be pampered, though the one who gave me that love was my son. I would take him, even though he was younger than me and he was better at pleasing me than anyone else. Beneath him, I took the sexual pleasure I deserved.
Tonight, two bodies rubbed together to form one, when in fact we were originally one. That one hard-on underneath him, connecting us, can give a woman what she needs to be happy. Every woman wants one of those things for her, and I can’t live without him.
He said, “Mom, I know you’re not a random woman, and what I want is not a one-night stand, but a lifetime. So please marry me.”
His thrusts slowed, telling me the words I was waiting for.
I’ve never been so moved, even to tears, during sex. But his words called to me, and my nose turned sour and I cried. I couldn’t say anything, but just held the man who loved me tightly. He saw me crying and coaxed me like a child, saying:
”I am already able to provide for you. If you can put down your career and be my wife, you can enjoy your happiness. You don’t have to be busy with life and can live a carefree life with me.”
I cried harder, I would do whatever he wanted me to do. Yes, my mind went blank with every thrust he made inside me. After giving him dozens of deep and shallow strokes, I became a stupid woman in bed, no longer an office lady.
I would do anything for this son I was in love with. Promised him as the orgasm approached. With every push, he asked, and I said yes, all of it. I would be his homecoming wife, do his laundry, cook for him, and be the mother of his children for the rest of my life.
Needless to say, this night, our exuberance would be unending, and I would give it to my son if he wanted it.
Tomorrow, Winnie will see me sleep-deprived, but full of cheer, and will surely press me to ask if I slept with him. I will confidently announce to him, “Last night, we made love, and he was fine.”
That good girl, she would have hounded us for all the details of what we did in bed.
I won’t tell her, teach her to guess, and envy her share.
She wouldn’t have believed that after the first time I made love, I couldn’t live without him. We were a match made in heaven, his thrusts were in perfect harmony with mine, and when he delivered the most wonderful sensations in the world to me in one natural stroke, I was sure that I couldn’t miss this wonderful man.
”Shia.”
”Did you call me?” Someone nudged me awake in my sleep, kissing my breasts and private parts.
”Yes, can we make love again?”
”I can’t, I need to sleep, I have to work tomorrow.”
”Just making more love.”
”How many more have we done tonight?”
[End]