“Madam’s crazy notebook” Part-3 Continues…..
“Shh,” I said, kissing her neck. “I’m home now…it’s where I want to be…with you. And I fully intend on doing this again, every chance that I get. So don’t try and convince me to do otherwise. Because mother…I can’t.”
**
I heard the soft click on her bedroom door telling me she had locked it shortly after she left the bathroom. I considered knocking, but then thought better of it. Perhaps I had indeed crossed the line, forced too much to happen too quickly. But even if I had, it was too late to do anything about it now. Sequestered with her own thoughts, all I could do now was give her the time to do that, to think things through for herself, and then abide by whatever decision she came to, whenever she finally did.
She sat upstairs in her bedroom for a good two hours while I in turn sat downstairs in the living room, the TV on, though for the life of me I didn’t remember watching it. All I knew was, when she finally did open her door and came back down, she would have reached a decision about everything that had happened. All I could do now was sit and wait.
When I finally did hear the door, I knew that moment had arrived. Hearing her descent down the stairs, I turned towards her looking up expectantly. Immediately relieved to see a smile on her face as I did, though even that didn’t give anything away.
“Are you hungry?” She asked to reach the landing.
“Famished,” I responded back, now standing. “What can I do to help?”
“How about keeping me company while I fix something?” She suggested, and then kissed me lovingly on the cheek, more like a mom would, which I took as a hint at her decision. It was then however that she actually took me by the hand and led me into the kitchen area. “Pour us a glass of wine while I fix us some dinner,” she told me. “And…while we chat,” she then added.
After pouring our wine, I walked over handing one to her, and then attempted to lean forward and kiss her again after I had. She turned her head however, accepting it on the cheek instead.
“Before things get too carried away here George, we really do need to talk.”
Resigned, I walked back over to the kitchen table sitting down on the side, facing her all the while sipping my wine, though I don’t recall tasting it. I waited on her without speaking as she screwed up the courage to do so.
“I still haven’t been able to come to any agreement with myself about what happened,” she began, as she now turned away from the stove, steeling herself perhaps and taking a sip of her wine. “But…I’m also not going to deny the fact I didn’t enjoy it. Because I did.”
I smiled inwardly. It was more than I expected to hear at this point, expecting to have heard otherwise, though even then she still came pretty close to that.
“But, just because I did enjoy it, doesn’t mean it should ever happen again either,” she told me. “I might not be able to control myself…if it did.”
“So don’t,” I finally said in response to that. “I certainly don’t want to.” I was already becoming aroused again, just thinking about it. And especially looking at her as she stood there. She had obviously changed clothes, putting on what I had come to affectionately call as her “comfy” clothes. A pair of my old sweat pants, which she’d cut off into a pair of shorts. Shorts, which were almost too short, even for her. ‘
And then a lightweight, though baggy sweatshirt, which was also mine. And I knew damn well as she stood there, she had nothing else beneath it, save for a pair of bikini panties perhaps, though nothing more. The way her breasts fell, pressing against the material of the sweat-top told me that much. And I noticed that her eyes naturally gravitated towards my crotch as she looked at me, as though remembering what she’d once seen, held, and watched squirt as I came in her hand.
She tore her eyes away from me however, once again turning back towards the stove as the water she’d put on for our pasta began boiling, giving her an excuse to do so, yet still speaking to me with her back turned.
“Maybe I’m emotionally too weak to deny that I do have certain desires,” she began. “Which is why I’m counting on you…asking you…to be stronger than I am.”
My heart sank. I prepared myself to hear her tell me that regardless of what she obviously felt, that she was going to pointedly ask me not to tempt her, or pressure her into doing anything again. But what she said, lifted me like a rocket a moment later.
“Until I know for sure how I feel about certain things, how I can, or can’t deal with it if we do…we can’t actually have sex George, not until I’ve come to grips with that. Doing what we did was one thing, I know now that I enjoyed it, and look forward to doing that again with you. I can’t and won’t deny that.
Not if we’re going to be perfectly honest with one another. So at least George, please promise me that much. Promise me you won’t pressure me into actually fucking you,” she said using the one word I had never actually heard her utter before.
“I won’t. I promise,” I told her, meaning it.
“And one more thing, though now isn’t the time…perhaps tomorrow during the drive up to your Aunt Maria’s. There is more I need to tell you about, more I think now we need to discuss. But…I don’t want to do that now either. But as I do think we need to be totally honest with one another about certain matters, it’s because of that, you need to know a little more about me. But again…be patient. I promise to tell you everything on the drive up to your Aunts. Will you do that for me George?”
I of course already knew what her secret was, but it would be interesting to hear her actually tell me about it. If nothing else, it would make the hour long drive pass quickly. And I had no doubt, it would indeed make for some interesting conversation as we did.
Once again I stood, walking towards her. This time she didn’t turn her head away as our lips met. I kissed her deeply, mom kissing me back in kind.
“How long before dinner?”
She glanced back at the stove, the sauce on, though simmering. “Oh I don’t know, another twenty, thirty minutes perhaps? I like the sauce to simmer for a while, and flavor it up a bit…why?”
I picked her up in my arms. She squealed once again. “George, put me down you crazy boy! What are you doing?”
I literally threw her over my shoulder, and then spun around taking her back out into the living room. Walking over to the couch, I then tossed her down onto it where she actually bounced, now laughing. And then I reached down, grabbing the bottoms of her cut off sweatpants, and in one fluid easy motion, yanked them down her legs.
I was wrong about one thing. She hadn’t been wearing any panties either.
**