I can’t pinpoint when it all started to happen. I know my stepson has always been helpful and attentive to my needs. Whenever I need something done, he’s the first to volunteer his help, whenever I am feeling blue, he is around to cheer me up, and when I’m sick, he’s the one bringing me soup and tea in bed. I don’t know how the flirtations started, but they did, and they were subtle at first. I remember our hands softly touching in a way that is not common between a mother and a son, my glance at his newly masculine body when he has a towel around his waist, a hug that lasts a little too long, and these dirty interactions started to escalate. It was just last Summer I noticed his affinity for smelling me, he loved to wrap his arms around me and breathe me in, he oftentimes held be right under my breast, as if he was allowing his forearm to feel my supple breasts. His face nuzzled into my neck, and I saw the look of intoxication on his face, and it wasn’t my stepson’s face anymore, it was my man’s.
It was a night in late August, we were playing board games and it was storming out. I playfully shoved him, and he shoved me back, hooking one arm around my waist so I couldn’t fall down. His face was close to mine, and we began to lean in towards each other, an uncontrollable magnetic force pushing us closer, and closer, until our lips touched. I don’t normally kiss him on the lips, but I did last night, and it was soft and sensual. He melted into me and I wanted to taste his lips, his tongue, I was French kissing him with the passion that I thought was well in my past, but now it’s here, and I feel truly alive. I felt young and awake, and scared, and then– he laid me down on the floor and my conscious got the better of me. I stopped it. “Wait…please.”
