For a little maternal sympathy.

"Time to bring it back." After pulling out his chair, Max absently stared at the screen, chewing his cheek.

Then he began typing.

'What if moms' inner super-caring motherly instincts to make me happy and keep me comfortable and look after me and my every whim NO MATTER WHAT just like when I was an innocent child get reawakened whenever I call her 'mommy'?"

That was a hell of a run-on sentence. Good thing Max didn't care about sentence structure.

Chair swiveling behind him, the teen dashed to the living room, magic box left blinking.

Downstairs the matron was tending a flower vase with a wet napkin in the kitchen when Max strode over.

"Hi Mom."

The woman looked over her shoulder, hair succinctly swooping across the side of her face. Her eyes quaintly settled on the boy and then returned to cleaning. "You're looking like a hundred bucks." Her voice dipped, "I hope you've mellowed out..."

"Yeaah, m'bad about that," he leaned against the adjacent counter, looking her straight in the face. "I didn't mean to make you upset. You know how I could be. Speaking before the thinking, acting before the tossin'. Sorry if I'm a hnadful."

Like clockwork, that dizzying smile returned. "I understand, baby. Just keep your appreciation of me verbal as usual and I don't mind how you express it. Long as it's nothing too rude." She looked at him and winked. "You're my son, after all."

Max folded his arms, chuckling. "Of course." Then sighed. "It was still completely inappropriate of me to ask for what I did."

The ever lithe woman took out the duster, circling the vase with it as Max spoke.

"I went back to my room and sobered up. You and I doing that..." Max invoked a shudder. "So wouldn't be right."

Amy smiled silently in acknowledgement.

"Besides, what would the others think?"

"It's great you see the problem for what it is, Max."

swish-swish

"It's just," sigh, "I know it doesn't look it - since, well, I'm good at hiding my true feelings -- but really, on the inside I'm like, like... a storm."

He'd have to pat himself on the back later for that one.

"A storm," he went on, "fighting off the pain of knowing we'll never get to be as close as we could be, mommy."

Amy's vase tending came to an impasse, brush follicles bent mid-swipe.

"And you know, mommy, I just love you so dearly that sometimes I wish I could truly show it to you, mommy, since that's what honest family members who have nothing to hide from each other do I hear. But what do I know..."

Noticing the lack of a response, or motion, from said relative, Max looked at her.

"Mom?" the son slightly ducked his head, "what's wrong?"

The older woman quickly glanced up. "Oh nothing, I just... " She drew her hand away from the vase. "Did you say 'pain'?"

"Huh? Oh," unassuming throat clearing, "yeah, I said I was fighting off the pain of not getting to be close to you."

Her eyes seemed lost in thought.

"It eats me some afternoons. Like, I just wish I could satisfy these desires of mine but I know that'll never fly. So I bottle it up, and wrestle with it each and every day. It's a hell of a chore but I manage, for the good of us all. It just gets to me sometimes. Like a few moments ago." Max exhaled. "You know how I feel. Right, mommy?"

Again, that slight pinch in the air, like an invisible tenderizer. Then finally, "Oh, son. Are you that pent up inside that you can barely concentrate?"

Max nodded.

A look of sympathy crossed Amy's face. "To heck with it then. Here." And just like that, the umpteenth unbelievable act of nature occurred before Max that day. The blonde matron undid her bottoms and stepped out of them as they pooled to the floor. "Give me a pounding. You can screw me today, but this is a once-in-a-lifetime thing. Got it, mister?"

Meanwhile, the teen felt like a sailor spotting land after years over the rolls of blue. His mom was a looker and this was just the stamp on the envelope. Amy's tender legs glistened in the room's naturally lit square and he slid his eyes all over their length. From thigh to shiny shin, she was a cock stirrer. Max, at the sight of her smooth skin, her bare, slightly bushy pussy, her caring face staring into his eyes, was at a lifetime high that moment. "You... you got it... mommy!"

A flicker flashed across Amy's pupils and she relaxed. "It's the least I could do. Sweetie-poo," she closed in and squeezed his left cheek.

Was that baby-talk?

Whatever.

"So, how do you want to take this pretty mother of yours, Maxie?" She presented herself.