The house felt too quiet.
I sat on the couch, one leg tucked under me, a half-empty glass of wine resting on the coffee table. The TV was on, but I wasn’t watching—just another forgettable sitcom with canned laughter that felt emptier than my living room.
The space next to me used to be filled.
I glanced at the framed photo on the shelf. Mark’s smiling face stared back, frozen in time. It had been four years since he passed. Four years of adjusting, of raising Tommy alone, of learning how to sleep in a bed that suddenly felt too big.
The clock on the wall ticked past 10 PM.
Tommy was still at the gym. That boy practically lived there. He had taken to weightlifting in the past year, spending hours sculpting himself into someone stronger, tougher—like he was trying to fill the space his father left behind. Maybe I had been doing the same in my own way, keeping busy, staying healthy, pretending I didn’t notice the ache of loneliness that settled in the pit of my stomach late at night.
I sighed and took another sip of wine, stretching out on the couch. My top dipped slightly as I moved, the loose fabric of my nightie slipping slipping up, exposing bare skin and black panties to the cool air. I didn’t bother adjusting it. Who was here to notice?
The front door opened.
Tommy stepped inside, his gym bag slung over one broad shoulder. His black t-shirt clung to him, damp from sweat, outlining the hard-earned muscle underneath. He had grown so much, taller than his father had been, filling the doorway like a man who had outgrown the boy he used to be.
“Hey, Mom,” he said, kicking off his shoes. “Still up?”
I smiled, swirling the wine in my glass. “It’s barely ten. You act like I’m ancient.”
He chuckled, dropping his bag by the door. “You always go to bed early. Thought I’d come home to find you passed out on the couch again.”
I rolled my eyes. “That was one time.”
He walked into the living room, and the scent of his cologne mixed with sweat drifted toward me—warm, familiar. It reminded me of Mark, the way he’d come home from work and press a quick kiss to my forehead before heading for the shower.
Tommy flopped onto the couch beside me, his body radiating heat. The couch dipped under his weight, and for a moment, the space next to me didn’t feel so empty.
“What are you watching?” he asked, reaching for the remote.
I sighed. “Nothing good.”
He smirked. “Figures.” Then, without asking, he changed the channel.
A comfortable silence settled between us. I took another sip of wine, letting the warmth of it spread through my chest.
“You okay, Mom?” he asked after a while, his voice softer now.
I glanced at him. His gaze was steady, concerned.
“I’m fine,” I said, forcing a small smile. “Just… tired.”
He studied me for a moment, like he didn’t quite believe me, but he didn’t push. Instead, he leaned back, stretching one arm across the back of the couch.
“Want me to rub your shoulders? You always complain they hurt.”
I let out a soft laugh. “Trying to make up for all the times you made me carry you around as a kid?”
He grinned. “Hey, I was adorable. You didn’t mind.”
I sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine.”
I turned slightly, and his strong hands settled on my shoulders, his thumbs pressing into the knots of tension that had built up over the day.
I closed my eyes, exhaling slowly.
The space in my bed was still empty.
But for now, at least, the space beside me wasn’t.
“Mmmmm, that feels so good. Your good with your hands,” I moaned as I felt the ache in my shoulders started to go.
“You should take off your nightie and lay face down on the couch mom,” he suggested.
I chuckled, feeling the caress of Tommy’s strong hands and the warmth of the wine making me a bit bolder. “You’re turning into quite the charmer, aren’t you?” I teased, setting my glass aside. “But okay, if you insist…”
I stood up, letting my nightie slip down my arms and pool at my feet, exposing my bare skin to the room’s air. I wasn’t thinking about being seen, only about the relief of his touch. I lay on my belly across the wide couch, the soft fabric cool against my skin, my black panties the only thing between me and the world.
Tommy’s eyes flickered, a hint of surprise and something else—something grown-up—flashing across them.
“Wow, Mom, you’re… so comfortable with that,” he remarked, a slight catch in his voice.
“Your dad used to give me massages all the time,” I said, my voice a bit husky. “You’re just filling in.”
The couch squeaked as he moved closer, his hands hovering above me before landing on my shoulders again, kneading away the knots. His fingertips were like magic, pressing just right, making me sigh in relief.
“That’s it, Tommy… just there,” I murmured, feeling the tension melt as he worked.
He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. “I’ve learned a lot watching those YouTube videos,” he whispered, a bit of pride in his voice.
His hands slid down, rubbing the curve of my back, sending tingles through me. My body hummed with each stroke, the loneliness fading away.
“If you wasn’t my son I would be asking for extra’s,” I laughed not knowing what I really just blurted out.
Tommy’s hands paused for just a heartbeat at my words, his breath hitching ever so slightly, the air between us charged with a sudden new weight. His fingers resumed their dance across my skin, more purposeful now, a silent acknowledgment of the line we teetered upon.
“Mom,” he started, his voice a whisper, laden with something unspoken. “You know I’d do anything to help you feel good.”
His touch shifted, became more deliberate, more tender, and I shivered at the warmth of it. His fingers trailed down the curve of my spine, sending ripples of pleasure across my skin, making me forget, just for now, the years of emptiness.
“You’re making your old mom feel pretty good already,” I replied, my voice a soft purr.
He chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated against my back as he leaned closer, his lips brushing my ear. “I’m just getting started. I can… I can do the front of you if you like. Only if you want me to, you did say extras.”
“I did but you are my son, it would feel weird and wrong messing with the front of my body,” I said as deep down I didn’t care right now. I wanted a man to please me, to pleasure me anything with a pulse and a cock. The only ache I needed sorting deep down was the one between my legs.
Tommy’s chuckle faded into a thoughtful hum, his gaze lingering on my body before he nodded, the seriousness returning to his eyes. “I get it, Mom. But let me at least help you relax the rest of the way,” he said, voice steady, careful with his words.
His hands moved back to my shoulders, kneading with a focused intent. I felt the strength in them, the power of his young muscles working out the kinks, pushing away the loneliness with each press. The couch creaked softly beneath us, a symphony to the rhythm of our quiet breathing.
“Just relax, Mom,” he whispered, leaning back to give me room. His hands ventured lower, tracing gentle circles down my back, along the edge of my panties, stopping just shy of the curve of my bottom. I shivered, the touch electrifying, yet innocent.
The room filled with the sound of our mingled breaths, the quiet pop of the TV forgotten in the background.
“Tommy,” I murmured, my voice barely a whisper, as he eased a bit of the nightie’s fabric away, his fingers grazing my skin just above the elastic. “It’s different with you… but it feels good.”
“Shh,” he soothed, his touch feather-light, brushing away a stray hair from my cheek. “Just feel, okay?”
There was a pause, a moment trapped in time, before he continued, his hands now exploring the soft skin of my thighs, careful not to cross that forbidden line. Yet, his touch was sending sparks, making my body hum with a want I hadn’t felt since Mark.
Suddenly, a boldness surged through me. “Tommy, darling,” I began, rolling onto my back, my eyes locking onto his, “I need more than just massage—something to fill this ache. Like your dad used to.”
“I defo sort that ache for you,” he looked so eager.
“Haha I bet you fucking would,” I laughed as I got on my back. Then without saying anything he put his hand on my pussy. His hand massaged it through the material.
Tommy’s eyes locked on mine, a mix of determination and hesitation dancing in their depths. But the hesitation melted away as he read the earnest plea in my gaze. His hand, warm and firm, slid under the thin fabric of my black panties, his fingertips grazing the sensitive skin beneath. The air around us thickened, charged with the forbidden thrill of his touch.
“Mmm,” I moaned softly, the sound slipping out as I arched slightly into his palm. The TV’s distant chatter was eclipsed by the new, intimate sounds between us—my sharp intake of breath, his murmured promise whispered against my temple.
His fingers pressed gently, feeling the slickness that had already begun to pool. “You’re so wet, Mom,” he breathed, a note of wonder in his voice as he traced the outline of my gash, the word hanging in the air, raw and honest.
I bit my lip, nodding, a silent permission given. “It’s been a while… for so long,” I confessed, the admission a quiet sigh.
With careful reverence, he eased the damp fabric to the side, exposing my most private place to the air, to the warmth of his gaze. The coolness of the room felt like a contrast to the heat building in my core. His hand returned, not just touching, but caressing, parting the folds of my labia to find the center of my ache.
The first touch of his fingers against my clit made me gasp, a sound like a tiny firework bursting in the quiet room. His movements were deliberate, testing, learning the rhythm that made my hips lift involuntarily.
“That’s it, Tommy,” I encouraged, my breath hitching as his fingers found a pace that sent waves of pleasure through me. “Right there, oh God, just like that.”
His thumb circled the nub, sending sparks of sensation that zapped through my body. His other hand, bolder now, ventured down, two fingers teasing the entrance of my cunt, feeling the slickness, the readiness.
“Please, Tommy,” I whispered, my voice dripping with need. “Fill me, just like your dad did…”
A low, primal growl rumbled from his chest. “I will, Mom. I’ll give you everything he did,” he vowed, his voice husky and full of intent.
He shifted, aligning his body with mine, the heat of him now against my side. His dick, hard and insistent, pressed against my thigh, a promise of what was coming. The sound of his belt buckle, the zip of his pants, the rustle of fabric were all punctuated by our heavy breathing, our anticipation.
His cock, freed from the confines of his clothes, throbbed against my skin. I reached down, wrapping my hand around the shaft, feeling the velvety texture, the pulse of his excitement. With a gentle tug, I guided him to where I ached most.
The head of his dick nestled at my entrance; a moment’s pause, a breath held, and then he pushed. The sound that followed was like a deep, wet squelch—squelching slide as he filled me, stretching me in a way that only a man could.
“Tommy…” I whimpered, feeling every inch as he moved deeper, the sensation of filling me up, of being connected again, was overwhelming.
He began to move, a slow, deliberate pace that echoed the rhythm of our mingled breaths. The sounds of our joining filled the room—the smack of his skin against mine, his heavy grunts, my high moans.
“Like this?” he asked, his voice strained with the effort to control his thrusts, his rod sliding in and out with a persistent squelch that matched the beat of our hearts.
“Yes, just like that,” I gasped, my hands gripping the couch as he picked up speed. The room was alive with the sound of our bodies meeting, his balls slapping rhythmically against my thighs with every thrust, the hollow thwack punctuating the symphony.
His hands roamed, groping, squeezing my tits, feeling my every curve as if mapping the landscape of my need. My legs wrapped around his waist, urging him deeper, wanting more of him, all of him.
“Mom, you feel…” He trailed off, words failing as the sensation of our union consumed us both. He pounded into me, his hips snapping forward with a fervor that spoke of a desire long denied, a primal need to connect, to fill the void.
The couch protested with creaks and groans, a chorus beneath our moans and sighs. I felt every touch, every caress, every thrust like a declaration of life, of passion, of the love that twisted and turned into something raw and alive.
“Oh, Tommy, harder,” I cried out, the taboo of it all heightening every sensation. “Don’t stop!”
He obeyed, the pace intensifying, his breath hot against my neck, his lips finding mine in a searing kiss that swallowed my cries. The room spun, the TV a forgotten hum in the background, as we moved together, our bodies slick with sweat, with lust.
The world narrowed to the point where we were joined, to the sounds of our flesh colliding, a symphony of wet, hungry noises that painted the air with our forbidden dance.
With a final, deep thrust, he stilled, his cock pulsing inside me as he came, a groan torn from his throat. I followed, my cunt clenching around him, waves of pleasure crashing over me as I cried out, the ache inside finally soothed.
We lay there, entwined, the aftermath quiet and tender, the TV’s laugh track a distant mockery of the intensity we’d shared. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close, as if to never let go.
“Thank you, Tommy,” I whispered, feeling the weight of our secret, the warmth of our bodies, and the strange, twisted comfort of being filled again.
“Anything for you, Mom,” he replied, his voice a mix of exhaustion and devotion. And in that moment, the space beside me wasn’t empty anymore. It was full, alive, and pulsing with a love that defied explanation.