A Taste of the Good Life

In the blink of an eye she is back into character. “Donald! My darling boy! You’re late.” She pulls me into a big motherly embrace and smooches my cheeks. As I feel her soft voluptuous body press into mine any second thoughts I had fly out the window.

I giggle. “Sorry Mom, my train was late.”

She steps back, hands on my shoulders, and looks me up and down just like I were her son come back from months away. “You’re so skinny! Are you looking after yourself out there?”

“I’m doing my best.”

“You must be starving.” She says. “Come on you, let’s get you fed.” She puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me down the hallway.

As I walk I notice the a grouping of family photos near the flower vase. What I see are pictures of a family of three. Husband, wife, and son. They had an adult son. So that’s who I was standing in for. Interesting, and pretty fucking perverted. Ah, who cares? It takes all types to make a world. So she had fantasies about her son, who the hell was I to judge? The photos are just what one would expect to see yet…there was a distance in them. A coldness in the eyes of the three perfectly postured figures staring into the camera lens. From the outside it was the perfect family but these people in the photos were not happy. I take special note of the husband, being sure to memorize his features on the chance I happened upon him somewhere out here. Kiki had warned me that most clients were married so it wasn’t a surprise though it was scary now that I was here. That dude looked pretty damn serious and pretty damn big.

I am brought into the kitchen and sat down in one of the tall chairs that lined the marble topped island. The area was even nicer than the entryway and hall. Big windows bathed the space in bright midday light. At an open window there sat an steaming pie cooling on the sill. It wasn’t just like a fantasy, it was one. The woman’s retro attire, the apron, the pie, this was all a part of the show. After her giving me a second chance I felt I owed it to the woman to live up to my end of this dream world. I do my best to imagine life in the shoes of an middle aged empty nester and I throw myself into the role I thought she wanted.

“What kind of pie?” I ask her as she busies herself at the fridge.

“Apple.” She says happily. “It’s…”

“My favorite!” I say, finishing her sentence for her.

She gives me an approving glance. “Yes, that’s right.”

“Thanks Ma, you’re the best.”

This stops her for a second. I watch as she takes a breath in and slowly lets it out. She spins, her arms full of food item and a huge smile on her face. “Learning quick.” She quips.

“What ever do you mean?” I quip right back, way too innocently.

She laughs. “BLT okay?”

“Sounds amazing.” I say. She couldn’t have known but the truth was that I was famished. I hadn’t time to get breakfast this morning. “Need any help?”

“Nope.” She says, laying out the ingredients. “Mom’s gonna feed her boy. You just sit there and keep me company.”

“Gosh Ma, you’re the best.” I ham it up.

This was…AWESOME! I never had this in my childhood. Growing up Kiki and I more times than not had to take care of own meals. When our mother did ‘cook’ it was invariable something canned or frozen. When she did leave us the pair of us barely missed a beat. Kiki started turning tricks to pay rent and I picked up whatever work I could, but our home life carried on with minimal disruption. The view of this woman’s full round ass as she cooked for me was just the cherry on top. But what a cherry! Damn! Older or not, this curvaceous red head had it goin on.

We chat about inanities as bacon is fried, tomatoes sliced, lettuce washed, homemade bread sliced and toasted, and fancy mayo and mustard dolloped. Neither of us probe this fictional scenario we were playing out too deeply as we talk about the things any mother and adult son might. Mostly I tell her about my classes and grades and school mates, all of made up on the spot, and she laps up every word.

With a crinkling crunch she slices through the crispy sandwich and plates with a big pickle. She places it front of me. Hunger getting the better of me, and not being well trained on my table manners to begin with, I scoop half of it off of the plate and chow down. “Oh my God this is so good.” I say, crumbs tumbling from my lips. I catch her looking at me and stop mid chew. “Umm, was I supposed to say grace or something?”

She is smiling at me, a funny smile. Sort of proud and amused at the exact same time. She just shakes her head. “No, you’re fine. Do you like the food?”

“Like it!? Oh my God, it is delicious.” I gobble down another big bite. “Nobody cooks like you Mom. Mmmm!”

She brings a hand to her mouth and I swear I catch of glimmer of a tear in her eye before she blinks it away. “That’s my boy.” She whispers. “You…you always had a good appetite.”

“Mmm!” I grin. “Only with your cooking Ma. You’re the best. NOM!” Another huge bite and one half is polished off.

I eat and she watches, both of us happy as we could be. After a rough start things were going just swimmingly now. I was so glad I hadn’t run away.

I polish off the sandwich with a loud belch and quickly cover mouth mouth. “Oh! Excuse me!”

She just laughs and waves her hand to let me know it was okay. Was that a hint of a blush on her fine cheeks? “A drink.” She says as I finish off the pickle and wipe my mouth with a fancy cloth napkin. “You want a soda or a beer or juice? What you want my boy?”

A drinker I was not. I had experienced first hand the damage could do. “Soda please. Cola if we’ve got any.”

She smirks as she catches the ‘we’. “We do.”

All I had done is eat a sandwich so far but I was starting to feel like I might be a natural at this. Thus far prostitution was nothing like imagined it was going to be.

“I hope you saved room for dessert.”

“You know I did!” I grin from ear to ear.

Keeping up our back and forth I drink my soda as Mom takes the pie and slices a big fat piece out for me. A hearty scoop of super fancy vanilla flecked ice cream is heaped alongside. This too I eat with aplomb. No word of a lie, it is the best fucking pie I’d ever tasted and I let her know it by my groans of gluttonous bliss.

Leaning back in the chair I rub my full belly. “There’s no place like home.” I say, feeling very much like Dorothy lost in a magical land of fantasy. The difference being that my Oz had no wicked witches. “Oh Ma! So good.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” She grins before glancing up at the clock. I follow her eyes to see that it was 2:30. I had been here for an hour and half already!? Where did the time go? Cognizant of narrowing time together she says as casually as she can. “You must be all tight and tired after such a long trip. Do you want Mom to draw you a bath?”

I got the message loud and clear. Foreplay was over. With me fed it and this scene of domestic heaven played out it was now time to feed her twisted mommy kink, and that was just fine by me. I just hoped I could live up to her expectations.

“Yeah. That train ride is a long one.” I roll my shoulders and tilt my neck. Without even being asked she hurries around to start to massage my tense muscles. I close my eyes as my tight shoulders melt under her skilled hands. “Ohhh, yessss.” I sigh as she rubs, her fingers kneading deep yet somehow still gentle, and I feel her breasts, through dress and apron, press into my shoulder blades.

“A nice hot bath would fix you right up.” She whispers into my ear. “Let you…relax.”

“A bath would be real nice Mom.”

“Anything for my good boy.”

Good boy? She called me a good boy! Ohhhh! Oh that was nice. That was VERY nice.