Afternoons With Mrs K. Ch. 3

I questioned him on this and he admitted that he had become extremely lazy, preferring to spend his time in the student bars and sports facilities rather then studying, and had failed to submit previous coursework on time and had thus been marks penalised. A friend of his had been in a similar situation, and when they had learned where the exam papers were being kept, they decided to take them, photocopy and return them so that they were forewarned what they needed to know. They stole them from an office and returned them with no problem, but were caught by a security camera, and apparently dealt with humiliatingly. I had little sympathy.

I asked him what he was intending to do now. He replied that he firstly wanted to earn some money to go surfing later in the summer with his friends in Newquay, Cornwall, and then he would apply for an architectural course elsewhere.

By the time we had returned home, I was more sympathetic to him. He seemed genuinely sorry for his mistakes, and was ready to move on. Besides, I never could be hard on him for any length of time; since he was a young child, he had always been able to win me round with a shy smile and a shrug of the shoulders, an ability he still seemingly retained. We had always had a very close bond between us, and were quite physical in our affection; hugging on the sofa, laughing together as we watched comedy shows and films on television, and even sharing tears in the sad period of my husband’s fatal illness.

Over the next few days, I also noticed how more mature he appeared in his physical appearance. He seemed to have lost some weight in recent months, giving his face a more sculpted look, which coupled with his tall frame and warm blue eyes made him a very handsome young man. Steven sometimes seemed to almost be ‘eyeing’ me up; looking at me in a slightly lustful way. It was nothing blatant, just small things. I’d look in a mirror and he would be behind me, appearing to be staring at my bottom, or I would be talking to him and his gaze would sometimes drop to my breasts, he also seemed keen to hug me tightly when he greeted me in the morning or bade me goodnight. I fleetingly thought that he must be becoming very popular with girls of his age, and that perhaps another reason his studies had gone wrong were that he was enjoying an active sex life with them. In truth, this thought made me feel both jealous and simultaneously aroused. This reflection seemed to recur often in the next few days.

I didn’t, at this stage, feel like sharing with Steven the fact that I was having an affair with a young man only slightly older then himself. And although I continued my marvellous relationship with Jay, we were more discrete. Sometimes we met in Jay’s aunt’s house, two times we enjoyed wonderful liaisons in a local hotel, and on one memorable occasion we had a picnic in a remote country beauty spot, and afterwards shared delightful sex on a the rug I laid on the ground.

These were glorious summer days. My young lover and I enjoyed such a blissful physical element to our relationship. I was so lucky to have found a virile young man to explore my sexuality with. Oh, and how I enjoyed it! I loved stroking and caressing his strong muscular body and kissing his soft full lipped mouth. I revelled in cupping then sucking his testicles, and teasing the head of his cock before I slipped most of it into my throat and slurped on it like it was a giant lollipop. I bathed in ecstasy as he manipulated my clitoris with his fingers and tongue and stroked the inner walls of my pussy with his clever fingers. I even liked him rimming my ass, before he lubed it and gently and tenderly screwed it with long slow strokes, before spreading his warm seed deep in my bowels. I loved to drink his cum while he orgasmed with his erect pulsing member pressing down upon my tongue. Most of all I cherished every single time he penetrated me with his beautiful weapon, whether from above me, from the side, behind me, standing or with me on top; that was the best: being ridden long and slow, fast and hard, gently or roughly, with sweet tender words being spoken, or crude lustful swear words almost shouted as my orgasms wracked through my body and my juices wetted and coated him as we made love. I climaxed every time, before he would blast powerful waves of his cum in my inner walls. It was sexual bliss. Although it was blatantly morally wrong, sometimes when we were apart, I began to mix Jay and Steven together in my dreams and daytime fantasies. It was as though they were becoming intertwined as one person in my inner psyche.

After over a week or so of being home, and apparently trying, Steven still had not found any employment, so I assisted him by contacting Derek, an old friend of myself and my late husband, who ran a small building company, and asked if he had any work for Steven. Derek did, but explained it was very demanding manual work. Steven would mainly be carrying hods of bricks up ladders or digging trenches, but, although unused to these kinds of tasks, he was young, fit and strong and should be able to handle it ok.

During is first working day, I tried to do some research for Steven on the Internet, looking for likely courses he could apply for. Infuriatingly, while I was engaged in this, my quite new computer then crashed and would not reboot properly. I knew Jay was quite knowledgeable about computers. I rang him on his mobile phone to ask for help but it was switched off, so I left a message asking him to come over and help me when he had finished at college.

When Steven returned home he looked exhausted. He flopped down in a chair in the kitchen.

“Mum, today nearly killed me, I was lifting for hours,” he said, rubbing at his arms.

I fixed some food and joined him at the table. “It’s ok son, your body will get used to it in a day or two.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right Mum, and at least the wages Derek said he will pay me will be enough to me to be able to afford to go surfing in a few weeks.”

Steven gave a satisfied grin at the thought, and then looked up at me. “Mum remember how you used to give Dad massages when his back hurt sometimes after he had played golf or had been working in the garden? He always used to say you had magic hands.”

“Yes he did Steven,” I replied, smiling at the memory.

“Well Mum, can you give me one of your massages to help ease my aching back please?”

I was uneasy at the way he said this. He looked at me slightly lasciviously, almost lecherously.

“Look Steven, you go and have a long hot shower, that should ease some of your aches and pains,” I suggested. He nodded a reluctant agreement then left for the bathroom.

I sat at the kitchen table, picking at my meal. I debated the situation with myself. Was my son trying to subtly make some kind of a move on me, using the massage as a subterfuge, even some sort of code? Or was this just a case of him wanting some relief. I determined not to be cynical about it and that if he was still in physical discomfort, I would try and help him out.

Despite the shower, Steven really did seem extremely keen for a massage. “Mum, my back hurts very badly, my arms ache and have lost strength, and my legs are giving me severe pain. My neck feels kind of cramped and sore too,” he complained.

I remember thinking that if that was the case, it was surprising he was able to move at all. He was sounding like a person who had been involved in a serious car accident rather than a fit young man who had done one day of manual work. I decided, though, to keep this thought to myself and to try and help him out. After all, what kind of mother refuses her son help in an hour of need?

I asked Steven to go into his bedroom, while I went and found some massage oil, which I warmed quickly in the microwave oven. When I returned he was facing away from me. He had taken his T-shirt off, and I noticed that his musculature was far more developed than I remember from a holiday we had in Greece a year or so ago. At nineteen, he was now a strong young man, with slim hips tapering into a sinuous back and wide shoulders. The sight of him made me realise that he was now a grown man, even if he did not always act as one.

On hearing me enter the room, Steven turned around and smiled. The way his lips curled up and the warmth in his blue eyes reminded me of my late husband Alan. I then noticed his stomach was now a smooth flat six-pack. I suddenly felt quite flushed in the face. 

I must have appeared so too, as Steven asked, “Mum are you ok?”

“Yes dear, I’m fine,” I replied, not sounding in the least bit convincing. 

“Ok, it’s just that you look a bit red in the face,” he said. “Oh, and shall I take my jeans off so you can massage my legs too?”

“Oh, ummm, yes,” I stuttered. I was getting a bit flustered.

Steven stooped and pulled his jeans off. He was left wearing only a rather tight black pair of Calvin Klein boxer shorts, which looked rather gorgeous on him. He lay face down on his bed and moved so as to be comfortable and I knelt with my knees outside his on the bed. I squirted a generous amount of the massage oil on my hands and began working on him.

Firstly, I worked on his neck and the muscles that connect it to the shoulders. He felt quite tight and bunched, but as I pressed firmly and worked the soothing liquid into them they seemed to relax and soften. Steven was certainly pleased. “Oh that’s great Mum, you’ve got a lovely touch.” 

Next I placed my hands both side of his spine and worked up and down his back, from the neck to the top of his shorts. Then I just generally probed the larger muscles nearer his shoulders. From time to time Steven would emit contented sighing sounds, and I was pleased to help him. Yes, I was still annoyed about his university expulsion, but at least he was endeavouring to get onto a fresh course, and was prepared to do a day’s hard labour to earn his way in the world. And then there was the fact that I found massaging him so enjoyable. He had such beautiful hard young flesh.