When I pulled out of her, I watched her lick her lips and swallow again. She got up, leaving my spent cock out as she checked herself out in the mirror on the lower dresser, fixing her hair and making sure no stray cum had dribbled out of her mouth. I reached down and pulled my pants up, tucking my still erect dick away. Hopefully by the time my mom came home, its hardness would be only a memory and not a current condition.
I moved behind her, wrapping my arms around her, pulling her back against my chest. In the mirror, we looked just like any other couple. If you looked at us, if you didn’t know who we were or the mistakes we’d made, we looked normal.
It was kind of funny, because I knew we were anything but normal.
I let her go, grabbed her bag and brought her to the guest room, where she’d be sleeping. This room was more furnished than mine, pictures hanging on the walls and little knickknacks on the bare wooden surfaces.
The world outside was pitch-black by the time my mom got home. Six-thirty. It was only six-thirty and the world acted as if it was bedtime for everyone.
I was the first down the stairs to greet her, Kelsey behind me. My mom came into the house through the side door that led to the garage, and she immediately set down her purse on the island, letting out a long sigh as she worked to take off her coat and hang it on the nearby rack. My mom was a few inches shorter than me, her hair blonde and her eyes blue. I must’ve gotten my eyes from her, but my hair from my dad. She might put highlights in her hair, but her natural color was a dirty blonde.
“Levi,” my mom whispered, giving me a smile. She did not move to hug me. She simply stared at me as she asked, “How was the drive?”
“Good,” I said, stepping aside to reveal Kelsey, who was pretty much hidden from sight behind me. “Mom, this is Kelsey.”
My mom’s heels clicked on the tiled floor as she stepped closer, her azure stare sizing Kelsey up. “Kelsey, it’s good to meet you,” she said demurely, offering Kelsey a hand, which she slowly took. “Levi never brings anyone home, especially girls. You might actually be the first.” Once their handshake was done, she added under her breath, “I hope you’re not distracting my son too much from his classes. His education is very important.”
A muscle in my jaw clenched, and I wanted to ask my mom what she was thinking by practically jumping down Kelsey’s throat before she even had the chance to speak.
“It’s good to meet you,” Kelsey said, totally ignoring the latter part of my mom’s statement. I could tell by the way she glanced at me that she was not smitten with my mom, and I couldn’t blame her for it.
My mom was…not the kind of woman you’d be friends with, or even talk to, unless you had to. Like me being her son, for instance. I had no idea how a man had gotten with her and stayed with her long enough to have me. My dad stayed a few years after that before leaving, but I was too young; didn’t remember much of him. My mom was definitely an acquired taste.
Mom let us fend for ourselves for dinner, going upstairs to shower and unwind after her long day. Kelsey and I settled for some cereal, mostly because it involved little to no cleanup, and making a bunch of dishes before Thanksgiving didn’t feel like a good idea. Kelsey and I then sat on the couch in the living room, watching whatever was on TV, cuddling beneath a blanket.
It was about nine when Kelsey got up, telling me she was going to shower and brush her teeth. I let her go, my eyes watching her as she went, falling to that ass. Never before did an ass look so good in jeans. Never.
After a few minutes, I found it wasn’t the same on the couch without her, so I got up. My bare feet took me to the kitchen, where I found my mom, doing some meal prep for tomorrow. “Do you need any help?” Me, offering to help my mom was not something that happened often.
Which was probably why she tossed me an annoyed look and said, “No.” She had a recipe book open before her, flipping through it to find whatever it was she needed.
I ran a hand through my hair, about to turn to walk away, either go upstairs or back into the living room, when my mom called out to me, stopping me instantly.
“She seems nice enough,” Mom went on, giving me a knowing look. “I hope you two are being careful. The last thing I need to worry about is taking care of a baby because its parents are still children themselves.”
My mom wasn’t stupid; she knew we were having sex. What I took issue with was the latter part of that whole thing.
“We’re not kids,” I told her, meaning it.
“Hmm” was all she said, flipping another page—this one quicker, louder, and a bit angrily. “Regardless, she’s not the kind of girl you’ll be with long-term, so—” Whatever else my mom was going to say, I cut her off.
“What?” What I really wanted to say was what the hell is that supposed to mean, but I figured talking like that to my own mother might not be a good thing.
My mom turned her full attention on me, laying her hands flat on the island’s granite countertop. Her nails were well-manicured, sharpened into points and freshly painted. “She isn’t a long-term girl for you, Levi. She’s the
