The morning light filters through my blinds, catching dust motes in its beam, innocent, unlike what I'm doing beneath my sheets.
I'm hunched over in my bedroom, hand working frantically while Mom's silky black panties stretch over my cock.
I got up at 5:30 AM just to raid her hamper, a ritual I've perfected many times over the past year. The fabric is still warm, still smells like her. God, I hate myself for this.
"This is the last time," I whisper, like I've whispered a hundred times before. But today, it might actually be true. First day of college. Fresh start. No more being the weird, quiet kid from Orono High who's too awkward to make friends.
No more being the kid who's in love with his own Mother.
I stifle a groan as I picture her face, those piercing blue eyes that seem to see right through me at the breakfast table. The way her white hair falls across her shoulders when she bends to kiss my forehead. How her body curves in all the places that make my mouth go dry when she walks around in her robe on Sunday mornings.
"Fuck," I breathe, bucking my hips upward. The shame burns hot, but not hot enough to stop me. Never hot enough to stop me.
Mom raised me alone after Dad split. Eighteen years of just us. Just Angela and Gabriel against the world. She worked so hard, all those overtime hours she put in. The way she'd come home exhausted. How she always had enough money for my science camp tuitions despite our modest means.
I'm close now, thinking about how she held me last night. "My college boy," she'd said, hugging me tight enough that I could feel every inch of her pressed against me. The way she looked at me.
God, I wish I could fuck her, even just once.
I bite my lip hard as the pressure builds, a volcano about to erupt. When it hits, it's overwhelming.
"M-Mom," I gasp, louder than intended, as waves of pleasure crash through me.
My body jerks involuntarily as I empty myself into the stolen underwear, pulse after pulse until the delicate fabric can't contain it all. The warm wetness seeps through, coating my fingers. The euphoria lasts seconds before the familiar tsunami of self-loathing crashes down.
I'm still catching my breath, face half-buried in my pillow with the rest of me under the covers, when I hear my bedroom door creak open. My heart stops.
"Gabe? Did you call for me, honey?" Mom's voice floats into the room.
I freeze, keeping the evidence hidden beneath the sheets. Only my head is visible, my face flushed and hair sticking to my forehead with sweat.
"N-no," I manage to croak out, trying to sound normal and failing spectacularly. "Just, uh, talking to myself."
She lingers in the doorway, those blue eyes studying me. There's something in her expression I can't quite read. For a terrifying second, I wonder if she knows.
Then her face softens into that smile that makes my chest ache. "Well, hurry up and get in the shower, college boy. I'm making your favorite breakfast, chocolate chip waffles." She winks. "It's not every day my son starts university."
"Thanks, Mom. I'll be down in fifteen."
She nods but doesn't leave immediately.
"My handsome boy," she mutters, almost to herself, before closing the door.
I wait until her footsteps fade down the hallway before exhaling. Jesus Christ, that was close. I crawl out of bed, carefully bundling the soiled panties. I'll have to rinse them out in the bathroom sink before hiding them back in her hamper later tonight. I hide them under my mattress for now.
I stumble to the bathroom on shaky legs, locking the door behind me and turning the shower on full blast. The steam fills the small space as I step under the scalding water, desperate to wash away what I've done.
"Get it together, Gabriel," I mutter, scrubbing my skin raw. "This is pathetic. You're pathetic."
The water pounds against my back as I close my eyes, trying to clear my head. College starts today. A fresh beginning. A chance to be someone new, someone normal.
"No more," I promise myself, my voice echoing against the tile. "No more stealing her underwear. No more fantasizing about Mom at night. No more imagining what it would be like if she looked at me as more than just her son."
I press my forehead against the cool shower wall, letting the water cascade over me. I've been living in this twisted fantasy for too long, letting it consume me. Every time Mom touches my shoulder or smiles at me across the dinner table, I've been twisting it into something it's not.
"It ends today," I say with newfound determination, standing straighter. "I'm going to look at her like a son should look at his Mother. Nothing more."
I shut off the water and grab a towel, drying myself vigorously as if I could scrub away years of inappropriate thoughts. I won't let myself imagine her voice whispering praise in my ear anymore. Won't fantasize about her hands on me, controlling me, owning me in ways that make my cock twitch.
After brushing my teeth and combing my hair, I stare at my reflection. "You're going to be normal today," I tell myself firmly while pointing at the mirror. "You're going to eat breakfast, thank her for the waffles, and go to your first day of classes without a single inappropriate thought about the woman who raised you, you sick fuck."
I dress quickly in jeans and a plain blue t-shirt, nothing special, but clean and presentable for my first day. The smell of waffles and coffee wafts up from downstairs, making my stomach growl despite my anxiety.
When I enter the kitchen, Mom is at the stove, her back to me. She's wearing a simple sundress that hugs her figure, white hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. I force my eyes away, focusing instead on setting the table.
"There's my smart man," she says, turning with a plate of waffles. "Sleep okay?"
"Fine," I mumble, not meeting her eyes as I pour myself some orange juice.
She sets the plate down and reaches out, her fingers brushing my chin, tilting my face up to look at her. "You seem tense. Nervous about your first day?"
Her fingertips on my skin send electricity straight through me. After what I just did upstairs, it's like my body is hypersensitive to her touch. I can feel blood rushing south again, and I shift awkwardly in my chair, angling away from her.
"I, uh…" I stammer, staring intently at the waffles instead of her face. "Yeah, just first-day jitters, you know? Kind of freaks me out doing something completely different after all these years."
I grab my fork and immediately stab at the waffle, desperate for any distraction. The chocolate chips are still melting, just how I like them.
Mom doesn't move away immediately. Her hand lingers near my face, then slides to my shoulder, where she gives a gentle squeeze.
"You're going to do wonderfully, Gabriel," she says, her voice soft. "You've always been so bright. I'm incredibly proud of you."
When she finally steps back to grab her coffee, I exhale slowly, not realizing I'd been holding my breath. I shovel a forkful of waffle into my mouth, chewing mechanically.
"Thanks," I manage after swallowing. "I hope so."
Mom sits across from me, her own plate modest compared to the stack she's given me. She crosses her legs under the table, and I feel her foot accidentally brush against my calf. I nearly choke on my orange juice.
Mom takes a bite of her waffle, chewing thoughtfully before setting down her fork. "I'm going to be late tonight. Work's demanding a lot right now."
I nod, trying to focus on my breakfast instead of the way her lips move when she speaks. It's one of those mysterious work nights again. She's always been vague about her job, just that it pays the bills and requires long hours sometimes.
"Let me guess," I say, attempting normal mother-son banter, "you're actually a secret government agent studying extraterrestrials in an underground bunker beneath Orono?"
She laughs that musical sound that makes my stomach flip. "You and your wild imagination, Gabriel. If I told you what I really did, I'd have to kill you." She winks, and I can't tell if she's joking.
"Do you want me to make something for dinner when I get home? I could try that pasta recipe you like." I'm desperate to be useful to her, to be more than just her burden.
"No need, sweetheart." She reaches across the table and brushes her fingers against mine. The casual touch sends electricity up my arm. "I'll probably be too late. I'll just head straight to bed when I get in."
"Alright." I pull my hand away, pretending I need to reach for more syrup.
As I think more about all of her sacrifices for me, my words tumble out before I can stop them. "Mom, I just... thank you. For everything. For working so hard all these years." My voice cracks embarrassingly. "Someday, I promise I'll pay you back for everything. Ten times over."
"Oh, Gabriel." She stands and comes around the table. Before I can react, she's behind me, arms wrapping around my shoulders in a hug that presses her chest against my back. Her lips brush my ear as she whispers, "You have no idea how much you already give me just by being mine."
My entire body goes rigid. I'm painfully aware of her breath on my neck, her hands resting dangerously close to my chest. The warmth of her against me is unbearable after what I did upstairs.
"I should go," I blurt out, standing so abruptly my chair nearly topples. "Don't want to be late on my first day."
I grab my backpack from the counter, needing to escape before she notices the effect she's having on me. But as I reach the doorway, she calls out.
"Gabriel?"
I turn, keeping my backpack strategically positioned in front of me. "Yeah?"
Mom glides toward me. She reaches up, smoothing my hair with one hand while the other rests on my chest. I can feel her palm against my racing heart.
"Good luck today, honey," she says, her blue eyes locked on mine. "I love you so much. More than you could possibly understand."
The way she says it sounds... different. Not like the casual "love you" most parents toss at their kids. There's a weight to it that makes my stomach flip.
Stop over thinking, Gabe! You're Mom does not want to fuck you!
"I love you too, Mom," I manage to stammer out, backing toward the door before I do something stupid. Like, confess to her.
Today is the first day of letting go of my Mother for good… Sexually, I mean. I still love her as my Mother, of course.