Hot Cider Ch. 01

She nervously ran her fingers around the lip of her coffee mug, watching the door. Her son, who she had given up for adoption 20 years ago, had agreed to meet. Her heart was in her throat. What if he was disappointed? It was odd...she'd never much cared what people thought of her, but when it's your own flesh and blood...

The door of the Indie coffee shop opened. 2 people walked in. Couldn't be her son. After all these years would she even be able to recognize him? He'd sent a picture. She pulled he picture he sent her up on her phone. Ice blue eyes, like her, but dark brown hair, like his dad. Back to the coffee, and people-watching. Indie coffee shops are the best for such activities.

Several minutes later, the door opened again. The sun had dipped through the front windows so all she was a silhouette. A man. He moved towards her. A MAN? Of course her son was a man. A far cry from the infant she'd given up. Her breath caught as he stood across from her.

"Hi, mom!"

An avalanche of emotion, 20 years in the making. She tried to hide it as she stood and moved around the table to hug him.

"What's your poison," she asked.

"What do you recommend," was his reply.

"I do the red-eye, but most people aren't into that level of caffeine abuse."

"Well if a little old lady can handle it, I'm sure a strapping young lad will be fine," he said.

She looked him up and down. Strapping he was. "Red-eye it is," she replied, and placed his order at the counter.

They were quiet while the drink was assembled, sizing one another up. She noticed that he had her lips, her smile. But with a hint of mischievousness she hadn't had in years. She watched his eyes travel up her curvy figure to her own eyes, which matched his, and then to her cascading ginger curls. "Aren't you lucky you didn't end up a ginger like me," she retorted. His eyes on her body had burned, like he was trying to devour her.

"I am. Gingers are crazy," he replied. His coffee arrived. They moved to their table. He grimaced as he took the first sip. "Amateur," she declared.

They talked for 3 hours, drinking way too much coffee, reveling in their similarities, shocked by how easy it was to connect to one another on levels they hadn't anticipated.

"You don't look like I thought you would...," he said, tentatively.

"How did you think I'd look," she questioned.

"Old, I guess," was his reply.

"Sorry your mom isn't old," she teased. "Hey...there's a game store near here, and I think we've sacrificed enough coffee to the Gods. I need to buy a Switch. Do you want to come with?"

He looked shocked for a moment, then expressed enthusiasm. "You're a gamer, too? UH, YEAH."

"Splendid," she declared off-handedly, and they headed to the store.

They settled into a pattern of teasing as she picked out the features and games she wanted, and they waited for the salesman to come back. There was affection and odd familiarity in the ribbing. When the salesman took too long, he shoved her, jokingly, calling her a nerd.

"I'm just trying to keep up with these kids today," she declared in a croaking, old voice. He laughed. He had her laugh, too. It hit her right at her core. Best to enjoy it and examine it later. Just watching how much he was like her, how much they had in common, how many jokes they both knew the punchlines to...she'd never encountered such a thing. It was like he could read her mind.

She'd never had any other kids. Maybe kids are just like that? Regardless, it was like her heart was singing.

Eventually, they parted ways, with promises to get together again soon. She went home, set up her Switch, and connected with her friends to play games together. Exhausted, her heart full, she went to bed.

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She woke up 3 hours later, her hand between her thighs, her cum on her fingers. Alone in bed, as she had been for the better part of 2 months, but what had she been dreaming of? Her son. His full lips, blue eyes, and his grin. His young, muscular physique. The way his ass had hinted at its roundness in his khakis. She was a monster. But...brains unsupervised are not to be trusted. It was just processing...right?

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She woke to a text from her son, Matt. "Hey mom, you busy on Tuesday," he had sent.

2 days from now? She looked at her calendar. It was mostly clear.

"What did you have in mind," she asked.

"Apple orchard. I need cider. Wanna come?"

There is nothing like early fall...the crisp air and the sharp smell of cinnamon at cider mills. "Cider is my kryptonite," she replied.

"Really? A Superman reference? You ARE old," he teased, and then..."What's your address? I'll pick you up at 2pm."

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She picked an olive, lowcut, lightweight sweater. She knew better but she didn't care. It showed off her curves and complemented her hair. He wouldn't notice, she's his mom. She spent entirely too much time on her makeup so she wouldn't look old...like she was preparing for a date. Going with a natural look...light mascara. Lip gloss instead of lipstick. Showing off her natural pale skin with its light freckles.

He knocked on the door and she answered. He looked stunned at her appearance, and she could feel his eyes on her as she walked to his car, in tight jeans because they were going to be walking around outside.

They grabbed bags at the orchard and she paid the fee. The hopped on the tractor, both excited for their upcoming orchard journey. Him interested in who-knows-what. Her interested in picking up tart apples for pies and snacking apples. The tractor bumped them to their destination, and they disembarked, hungry for produce. The air had a sharp hint of the cold that was to follow shortly, but the sun was bright overhead. She got down to business, plucking low-hanging apples, but didn't have a full bag.

"You're tall. Do the thing," she said, pointing to a branch above her head.

"There are ladders, you know." He walked to another tree and grabbed one, moving it to the tree she was nearly standing under. She ducked under the branches to meet him at the trunk, where he was holding the ladder, and started to climb. She was reaching for apples when he swatted her on the ass.

"HEY!"

"It was in my face. You expected a different response?"

"I'm your MOTHER."

"...And?"

She set to filling her bags as quickly as possible, and they got back on the tractor with 4 bags...2 for each of them, all hand-picked by her as he held the ladder, looking up at her. They picked up cider and headed back to her house. It was dusk. She ordered pizza for the two of them. When it arrived, they ate ravenously, their chewing interrupted by friendly teasing. The cider was chilling in the fridge, and she invited him to watch TV. He agreed, and she poured drinks for the both of them. He was already in the living room when he heard "Do you want rum in yours?"

"I'm not even 21," he declared.

"State law says that if you're drinking with your parent, it's legal," was her response.

This was accurate. In return, his only question was "what kind of rum?"

So they sat in the living room, accidentally binging on a Netflix show, not realizing how drunk they were getting on cider and spiced rum, until 3 hours later when she was leaning against him and his hand traveled around the back of her, nudging her arm out of the way, and cupped her left breast.

She moaned before she realized it, as his finger traced the outline of her nipple, which turned rock-hard at his touch.

She sat up. "I think we need to hydrate." He rolled his eyes. "I'm fine. You're fine. What's wrong?"

"I'm your mother?"

"Seems like I lucked out."

She was definitely buzzed. She flashed back to the dream of his full lips on hers, not sure if she cared. "Fine. More cider then?"

He agreed.

She stood in the kitchen pouring more rum into more cider, wrestling with whether this was ok...would she regret it in the morning? She heard him yell from the living room that she was missing the good parts, and decided she was resigned to her fate. She grabbed more drinks and ran back in. The monsters were causing trouble. It was good, clean fun. She handed him his refreshed drink and settled in.

The episode ended, and she started another one. Their drinks were half-finished. His hand traveled up her spine and unhooked her bra more quickly than she anticipated.

"Done this before?" she asked.

"Nope...but I got tips," was his reply.

Her bra was undone, leaving her feeling unprotected, but the rum was keeping her warm. She leaned back into him, and they watched the next episode while his fingers provoked her nipples, driving her slowly insane. She was so wet. This was so wrong, but...so right. She clicked "next episode" while his fingers traveled to her belt line and then into her pants. She wasn't wearing underwear. She questioned this choice as her son's fingers traveled downward, expecting hair, finding her clean-shaven, because that's what she likes.

"Oh," he breathed, as his fingers slid into her folds, finding her clit. His arm was wrapped around her in such a way that she felt she couldn't escape, while he massaged her clit gently but persistently, like she had in her sleep 2 nights before. She gasped and arched her back, urgently whispering his name. What show were they even watching? It was long forgotten as his hand came away dripping with her cum, her musk filling the room. He licked it off his fingertips.

"Christ, mom," he moaned. His voice sounded desperate. Aching. She looked down. His cock was prominent, straining against the front of his pants. She unzipped it and it sprung to attention, glistening tip and all. She moved to touch it, working on autopilot at this point...she'll think about it tomorrow. But he said "no." She stopped. He told her to stand up, and she did so...still drifting from cumming as hard as she did...trying to make sense of what she was doing. She stood before him, and he put his hands on her hips, turning her around. She turned, and he shifted his hips forward and unbuttoned his pants, pulling them down.

She paused. His cock looked downright delicious, and she reached for it. He pushed her hands away, and she stood before him, not knowing what he wanted. Did he just want her to get off? Then he unbuttoned her pants, letting them drop to the floor. His hands on her hips, pulling her toward his throbbing shaft.

"This is the point of no return," she thought, as she allowed him to guide her onto it, and he wrapped her in his arms, and then thrust into her very soul, where no one had ever been before. Over, and over, and over. Driving into her with frenzied need that she matched, and she orgasmed again, bathing him in her cum. He came explosively, filling every crevice of her, while her orgasm milked his cock of every drop, his cum mixed with hers, as their hot shame dripped off her lips onto his balls, which were only partly-spent, and they shuddered, coated in sweat, catching their breath while they figured out what the next step would be...

It didn't matter. She was home.