Beautiful Dreamers Ch. 01

'Okay,' Tammy said. There was a hint of sadness in her voice, because she felt she had hurt him - exposed him to more dangerous things than the shame of being caught with such a risqué secret. She felt now that she had exposed him to the danger of losing everything he loved her for. 'this changes nothing, okay?'

'Thank you, mom,' he said and hung up.

7

At two o'clock in the morning, sleep hadn't yet come and so Tammy found herself wide awake and fidgeting. After the storm of anxiety and self-loathing had passed, she was left depressed and restless. She checked her messages, roamed Twitter fleetingly and inevitably, she supposed, returned to Literotica; specifically her son's profile, Erotikinesis!

'Come to Bed with Mommy,' was doing well for itself in the ratings. She felt drawn to that story once again and so returned to it with apprehensive curiosity, like a one-time lover passing by an old flame to see what had changed since. She didn't feel guilty like she imagined she should. Now knowing just who had written that story instilled a sober light of truth in her, lighting up the dark as she read from the comfort of her bed.

'Wow,' she said to herself, reading from the beginning all over again. 'My son wrote this in honour of me...'

And as she retraced her steps along the cause of yesterday's frantic self-pleasuring interlude, seeing in her mind - just as the story dictated - the love and trust of a mother and son seduced into a bond that was deeper and so honest and raw and passionate, she could see why his imagination did such crazy things to her. He spoke from his own soul to one that he had known inside and out, all his life. He spoke from one heart to another, confessing the kind of things that no son could tell his own mother.

Now that Tammy lay legs apart, reading with one hand and masturbating with the other, yearning for the kind of lust and adoration that only his stories could portray so unashamedly, the burning shame of that evening was lost, along with her inhibitions, and with that same brilliant young man sleeping in the next room, she afforded herself to become more animated and vocal.

As Ben made love to her and filled her deep, ravished her body and whispered sweet things between their hungry kisses, her fingers were the tip of his straining cock, daring to enter her for the first time, and her hips rolled and bucked to woo him and to reel him in.

She was so wet, so feverishly hot inside. Tammy was the proud owner of a prominent clitoris and a thick fleshy hood and labia that loved to be pinched and pulled. She couldn't help but stray from the story and imagine pulling those wet lips apart to invite him in, to feel herself clinging to him with every slippery wet push and pull.

Before long Tammy had strayed far from the story and into a new chapter, one reality jumping to the next with such exciting uncertainty. Unashamedly she brought herself off wanting for herself and Ben what that story couldn't promise, convulsing blissfully in the knowledge that he made her feel this way, just by the power of his beautiful mind.

"Still my favourite mother and son," she typed in the comments section. "I'd like to read more about Tammy and Ben!"

8

The next day played out like the longest, heaviest hangover Tammy had ever known. That morning she was out the door before he was awake, wanting to make up for the previous day's lost hour. It was a mistake. Tammy regretted it almost instantly. The hour between 8 and 9 felt more like two. By the time noon came around, she felt as though she had clawed her way through most of a day, but it wasn't so.

The boss dropped by when he could to give her the once over, seemingly not satisfied by her claims that she was in fact feeling better. Tammy hadn't been ill, though he didn't know that. Now apparently she appeared to him like death warmed up. She thanked him and curtly kicked him out of her cubicle before he could offer the overtime that she was afraid was coming to her.

Little did she know that Ben felt the same, tired, heavy and dragging his feet around work, but she did worry enough to send him a message during lunchtime, telling him that she was thinking about him.

The end of the day couldn't have come quickly enough. When it did, Tammy dropped into the nearest Starbucks and ordered a large cappuccino, then sat down to allow the huge caffeine boost time to perk her up. Her train of thought was no different to what it had been all day, which was why the time had passed by at a grinding pace.

'I'm on dangerous ground here,' she thought. 'I'm incapable of leaving things be. I've proved that over the past two days. Now that we both know this intimate secret about each other, I promised that nothing had changed and it has. I cannot get his fantasy out of my mind and I cannot get him out of my mind. We need to talk. I need to know where he stands.'

Finally getting home at quarter to six, Tammy walked through the door with a steaming bag full of Chinese food and called out to Ben, who was in the kitchen with his head in the fridge.

'I got us an easy dinner, my treat,' she said, putting the bag on the counter. She couldn't read his face. Or could she? Ben seemed aloof at first, but then just tired, like he hadn't slept in days. When his eyes met hers, she didn't care whether she was right or not. Tammy got up on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around him.

'Let's eat,' she said, her voice muffled against his strong chest. 'This has been such a long day.' Sensing the frustration in her voice, Ben gave into his instincts and wrapped her tightly in his own arms, pressing his cheek hard to hers.

9

'I want us to talk,' Tammy said. 'Face to face, no shame, no secrets. Are you game?'

They were sat opposite each other again, she in her chair and Ben sprawled across the couch, exactly where their secret had been outed. Ben puffed out his chest, sat up and nodded, psyching himself up for god knows what he was expecting. If anything, he knew that he could rely on his mother to mean whatever she said.

'May I join you?' she asked. 'I don't want this to seem so detached.' Ben nodded again and so Tammy stood up and approached the couch where she perched herself on the edge, facing him.

That evening she was wearing nothing but a large t-shirt, which hung off her shoulders and went all the way down near to her knees, and the panties she wore underneath. She had put no thought into what she was wearing and whether it was appropriate for the occasion or not. She didn't do so many formalities at home. Ben was free from the old Catholic attitudes that she herself had thrust upon her at his age.

'Did you see the comment I left last night?'

'I did, yeah...'

She took his hand in both of hers to fidget with. He yielded without question. She hoped that it meant he trusted her and wasn't just trying to go along with it, to get it over and done with. 'Look at me, Ben,' she said tenderly and held his gaze like a magnet. 'Did you see what time I left that message?'

'I did notice,' he admitted. 'You were up late.'

'Like a lot of your readers every night,' Tammy supposed. 'You and me like the same thing and that's not a problem. I want you to know that as weird as it may seem right now, it's not a problem. Things aren't as clear cut as society makes everything out to be. People are more liberal these days. They generally know what hurts people and what makes them feel good.'

'I know that, mom. It's just like... I don't know... I like reading those stories. I love writing them...'

'I can tell,' she smiled encouragingly.

'But I'd never have written them if I thought I'd be discovered; least of all by you.'

'Oh, Ben, you're just exploring and discovering and investigating yourself and the world around you. I'll be the first to admit that those taboos certainly are exciting. And when you wrote about them you put so much love into them. I'm glad I found out. If anything I want this to be a less guilty pleasure. So I encourage it. Keep writing. You have my blessing.'

'Really?' he asked and his eyes brightened, almost begged to know that she wasn't just saying these things. 'I don't know what to say.'

'Don't say anything. Just be confident and know that the object of your affections is now your number one fan.' Ben laughed, couldn't help it. She was just saying it. But she shook her head and smiled. 'Really, Ben,' she assured, 'I want that sequel.'

'You really mean it?' Tammy nodded then lowered her face to kiss the back of his hand.

'But what we really need to talk about is how this affects us as a family.'

'What do you mean?' he asked. Apprehension overcame Ben.

'You like writing stories about sons having sex with their mothers... And I like fantasising about mothers having sex with their sons...'

Tammy raised her eyebrows, letting the resulting silence speak for itself. 'I don't know much about real life people who find themselves in that situation, but how does that make you feel?' she went on.

'I'll have to think about that, mom. It's a hell of a lot to take on board,' Ben said. 'How about you? What do you feel about that?'

'I think it puts us in a very unique position,' Tammy concluded. 'Because we're not only discovering ourselves, but we're discovering that we're both okay with it. But what else will we discover if we keep going down that road, knowing what we know and consenting to it?'

'I'm afraid of misunderstanding you, mom,' Ben said. 'Are you saying what I think you're saying?'

'I'm just talking about understanding what we know now; that we have fantasies about each other. And I think that they're perfectly natural to have, but do you think they might lead somewhere?'

Ben was shocked. He didn't know if his brimming nerves were caused by his beautiful mother's frank openness or by the fear of crossing lines that maybe they shouldn't have. He fished for the answer, shaking his head and looking everywhere but her soft gaze.

'You're worrying again, babe,' Tammy reminded him. 'Just follow your heart. If anything I taught you that much.'

'It's just so much to take in,' he croaked.

'That's what she said,' she quipped, recalling the part of the story about being impaled on her son's cock. She breathed a hum and decided to keep her mouth shut a while longer, maintaining that gaze. 'We'll forget about it for now,' Tammy decided finally. 'But I want one thing. I want you to write a new story for Literotica...'

'Okay, what will it be about,' Ben blushed and melted under her aroused and hardened stare.

'Just for your pervert of a mother, and now that our sexy little secret is out, I want you to write from a first person narrative what would happen between us if we decided to act on our mutual fantasy and ended up in bed together...'

'Mom!' Ben gasped. Tammy was suddenly looking elsewhere, having finally broken her line of sight. The crotch of Ben's shorts was visibly growing and in his exasperation he didn't even realise what she had laid eyes on. 'Are you actually serious?

'My heart is in my throat saying all of this right now. I'd really love to see you pull out all the stops and reveal the real you. Can you do that for me, soon?' Ben could only nod, struck dumb and wide-eyed. 'Go where you want with it, but just base it in the very real reality between us right now. You could either take it right from this very moment in time, or from when we discovered our mutual fantasy,' she suggested. 'Start from there and work our way up to your bed or mine. What do you say?'

'You're driving me fucking nuts,' he whispered harshly. Visibly and audibly his breathing was heavier and more laboured. Meanwhile Tammy, astounded by her own sudden sexual liberation and empowerment, was a picture of serene deliberation.

'I can see that,' she smiled sweetly. 'I adore you, you big dork.'

'You're too much lately, mom. Are we done here?' he begged in frustration. Tammy stood up nodding. When he stood up to leave the room, she locked onto him and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Evident between them was her son's tent pole jabbing her comically in the abdomen. She had been bold enough to come this far. Tammy decided that enough was enough, at least for one night.

'I'll leave you in peace,' she said and went to her room.

10

Over the next few days Tammy thought it best to regain some semblance of a normal family home. It felt good to feel the swift return of normality, to be able to return to her usual self as the sexual tension receded. Notably there was a fresh spring in Ben's steps. The emotional heaviness had fallen by the wayside and their relationship continued almost as if nothing had happened.

But she didn't see the way that her son was now looking at her when her back was turned or when her attention was drawn elsewhere. He hadn't done a great deal of thinking about the fact that reality had changed for the both of them, only maintaining the illusion that everything was the same.

Everything was fine. That's what mattered. Ben was now viewing Tammy in a new light - not just as a mother but as an attractive woman, which he would never have denied - and he was fine with that. As he wrote his story verse for verse every evening, picturing her in a sexual light, she was fine with it and he was fine with it too. She didn't ask about it. She just knew that eventually he'd come through on his part of the bargain. Wait, what bargain? What was in it for him? Ben had no clue, but he was fine with it.

And almost every night, the two of them were right next to each other, he in his bedroom and she in hers, trawling through Literotica's extensive archives of related fantasies both at the same time, pleasuring themselves to their favourite stories. Tammy left a new comment every night on all of his past stories...

"I am so wet right now!"

"I wish I was this mother!"

"MORE!!"

And Ben was fine with all of it. He was fine with his mother being just as depraved and perverted a little sex freak as he was. It validated that he was onto something, that these stories of mothers and their sons were as popular as they were for good reason. He was blown away for the most part by just how lucky he was to have a mom who was in love with the same taboo fantasy.

Friday evening finally arrived, the beginning of a weekend that threatened no overtime for either of them, and they sat down to an easy meal, looking forward to a relaxing couple of days to ward off an exhausting week.

'So what are your plans?' Tammy asked, carving into her pork chop.

'I was thinking of just hanging out and doing some reading,' Ben said before shovelling in a forkful of boiled potatoes and green beans. Tammy coughed, then again. Slow to realise because he was so tired, Ben realised that she wasn't choking but hinting something.

'Do I have to ask?'

'If you want to make sense, yeah,' he replied, overcome by dull amusement.

'You should be writing... you know...'

'Oh that,' he realised. 'Finished it yesterday. Thought I'd save it for the weekend.'

'Send it to me,' Tammy said, suppressing the urge to grin from ear to ear. 'I bait my breath, swooning with anticipation.'

'Funny!' Ben washed more food down with his glass of milk while he wrapped his head around how absurd it was that this could be so casual now. Then he noticed her staring. There was no smile, not on her lips, but he could see it in her eyes. That look was loaded with things probably best left unspoken.

'Did you enjoy writing it?' she asked after some time. Ben nodded, kept nodding, didn't know how to answer that.

'No comment, see for yourself!'

At 10pm, Tammy approached her son in his room with a strange request, but one that made perfect sense, and gave away way too much information all the same. He was sitting at his PC, immersed in one of his zombie survival games when she affectionately touched his shoulders and then ruffled his hair.

'I need you to do something for me...'

'Yes, mom...'

'Plug your headphones in for a while!'

As Tammy retired to her bedroom, nothing could hide the fact that she was scared witless as to what was about to happen. Not even teasing her son about it, which she hadn't meant deliberately, could hide the fear and excitement mingling in her bloodstream, because such was her trembling that her touch vibrated through him. The adrenaline was surging through every inch of her being like the rages of an addiction spiking before the anticipated high.

And on the way out of his room, attempting to reach for the doorknob to close his door behind her, Tammy snatched only to miss and walked into the open door, bouncing back stiffly before trying again. Closing her own bedroom door after that was almost as awkward. Both her arms and legs felt like jelly and seemed to move like them too.

Then possessed by her truest desire, the moment she had waited so long for, she practically threw off most of her clothes other than her matching white bra and panties, and slumped back onto the comfortable bed, iPad in hand, and tried to calm herself with slow, deep breaths, while trying to shake the restlessness out of her fingertips.

Anticipation! Terror! Paranoia! The desire to turn back and run headlong into the cosy old reality where nothing so exciting happened - was it possible to overdose on danger and excitement? Ben too wondered as he sat deciding whether to keep playing his game or to go tiptoe to his mother's bedroom door to eavesdrop.

Tammy signed into her email account. There it was, another message from Ben Adams waiting for her undivided attention, and nothing was going to stop her, because if she didn't read it now, it was otherwise inevitable that she would, and because as crazy as this was, the fear, the adrenaline and the taboo was already causing one hell of a damp patch. The tornado of butterflies in her stomach had to be stopped somehow!

11

WE BOTH WANT THE SAME THING by Ben Adams.

Only a couple of verses into my new story you're already a hot mess, breathing raggedly, hands caressing assertively and shivering shapely legs splayed to either side in the golden glow of your bedside lamp. Your hips roll up to meet the strokes of the wet fingertips invading your panties to swirl around your swollen clit as you read on, lost in the lust-crazed fantasy of you and me, secretly yearning for it to be real!

The crotch of your panties are soaked through and as you tear your eyes away from reading, you look into the mirror opposite and gasp at the erotic sight. You can barely believe that you're looking back at yourself. The woman in the moving picture, almost a complete stranger, writhes as though taken possession of by some invisible ghost lover, but you're not.

It's me, in your mind, and there we are locked together in a tangle of burning limbs as smooth flesh melts in and out of smooth flesh and we dance the dance of love's consummation. You wanted the fantasy to be real. You wanted me to write this to go beyond the fantasy of a fictional mother and her son having sex together for the first time. You want it to be you and me, realistically, driven to a higher plain of arousal and profound sexual realisation, knowing that I want the same as you.

Louder and faster you breathe and moan, losing yourself deeper in that fantasy, so close to reality. So close because I am nearer than you think, daring to test the strength of our family bond. And in the throes of self-pleasure you imagine no fantasy, but what we could truly be like together.

Is it possible, since I make you this way? Could we one day persuade each other to become lovers as such? In writing this story for you, my beloved mother, I imagine so, because the love and the lust - our shared passion - already existed in this reality.

'How are you liking the story so far, mom?' I ask via a text message, delivered with kisses.