Chapter 1.

My name is Celia, and I am 36 years old. I live alone with my son, Patrick, in a small city in the Midwest. This story started an evening a few months ago, and I still cannot believe how things have changed since then.

"You look beautiful, Mom," my son Patrick spoke up from his perch on the edge of my bed. I turned to face him, putting the finishing touches on my makeup at my dressing table. With a smile, I asked, "What brought that on?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I just suddenly realized how stunning you are. I'm going to feel so proud when we go out tonight." His cheeks flushed with a blush as he spoke and my heart swelled with love for him.

Setting down my hairbrush, I stood and moved to sit beside him, wrapping my arm around his shoulders in a hug. "And I'll be proud to be with you too. It's a shame your dad couldn't be here to celebrate with us."

It was Patrick's 18th birthday two nights prior, and we were finally able to go out and celebrate now that the school holidays had begun. My husband Alfred had died three years ago when a drunk driver invaded his lane at high speed. Since that day, I had dedicated myself to raise my son Patrick, leaving out any thoughts of dating again.

"Now, I'll just slip on my blouse and grab a jacket, and then we can head out." I explained, dressed from the waist down but still wearing only my bra on top to avoid messing up my outfit.

"Um...before you do that...no, never mind." Patrick hesitated before speaking further, looking embarrassed once again.

"What is it?" I prompted gently.

"It's nothing," he shook his head.

"No, go ahead. You can ask me anything. Don't be embarrassed," I reassured him.

"Well...since you're only wearing a bra...could I see your breasts?" Patrick blurted out, his cheeks turning bright red as he quickly looked away, expecting rejection from me.

A feeling of shock and confusion washed over me as I tried to comprehend why Patrick, my son, was suddenly making such an unusual request. Our relationship was not typical, born from our loneliness caused by Alfred's absence. I worked part-time as an editor for a publishing house, supplementing Alfred’s generous life insurance payment. This was enough to allow us to live comfortably in a spacious two-bedroom apartment with luxurious king-size beds and en-suite bathrooms, a beautifully modern kitchen and spacious living and dining areas adorned with the latest furniture and appliances.

But without Alfred around, Patrick and I had grown accustomed to sleeping together for comfort and company since he was young. It was never sexual or illicit; just a simple act of seeking solace in each other's presence. And although we were both aware that it may seem unusual to others, we were used to it. Usually, I slept in a t-shirt and loose shorts, while Patrick had only seen me in my underwear a few times but had never seemed interested in my body. At least, that's what I had thought until now.

"Patrick! Why this sudden interest? You've seen me in my underclothes before and never seemed bothered by it," I replied, trying not to sound angry or embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I don't know what came over me. It's just...seeing you in your bra made me realize how great you look. I wanted to see more of you. Please forgive me and let's just forget I ever asked," Patrick said, looking really embarrassed.

Feeling sympathy for him, I responded calmly, "It's okay, Patrick. I guess I didn't notice you are already a man. It may not be right, but I love you so much and would hate to refuse you anything. If I do show you, it has to be our little secret, okay?"

Patrick's face lit up with relief and he promised, "I won't tell anyone, I promise!"

With a sense of reluctance and apprehension, I slowly raised my hands and unclasped my bra between my breasts, holding the cups in place until I took a deep breath and let them fall free. In that moment, I sat bare-chested before my son's gaze.

Patrick's eyes widened with wonder as he stared at my exposed breasts. Hesitantly, he reached out his hand and used his forefinger to trace a circle around the aureole of the closest breast.

"They're even more beautiful than I imagined. Can I touch them? Please?" Patrick looked at me with pleading eyes, and I found it impossible to say no. So, I simply nodded.

With both hands cupping my breasts, Patrick delicately explored their weight before brushing his thumbs over my nipples, causing them to pucker and harden. I couldn't help but wonder where he learned such gestures.

“I breast-fed you for nearly two years with these, and we both seemed to get a lot of love and enjoyment from it. The warmth of your little body against mine, the sweet suckling sounds you made as you nursed - those were some of my happiest memories. It's when a mother and baby bond so closely.” My voice was soft and reminiscent as I brought those memories up.

I wasn't too shocked when he suddenly bent down and took a nipple into his mouth, sucking on it for just an instant before turning bright red with embarrassment. His hands dropped to his sides in total confusion.

“Oh God! I’m so sorry Mom. I don’t know what came over me. Everything I do seems to go wrong.” Patrick buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking with mortification.

I couldn't help but laugh, trying to ease the tension between us.

“It's okay, sweetheart. You haven't done any harm. And it's not exactly the first time your mouth has been there - it's just been a while. Now come on, let's get ready and go out.” I shooed him away playfully.

Patrick left the room and I quickly replaced my bra and put on my blouse. My mind was racing with confusion about what had just happened and how I felt about it. But I decided that the best thing would be to pretend it never occurred and make no mention of it in the future. When I joined Patrick, he took the car keys and we headed to the restaurant he had chosen. To my surprise, he had picked one that he knew I would enjoy, making me feel touched by his thoughtfulness. As we walked, he casually placed his arm around my shoulders and I played along, leaning slightly towards him and feeling a sense of closeness that was both strange and comforting.

After dinner, we went to the movies. He put his arm around my shoulders in a comfortable gesture of affection while we watched the big screen. Suddenly, his hand 'accidentally' fell onto my breast, causing me to tense up. I pretended like nothing was happening, but was relieved when he made no further advances during the movie. As we stood and walked to the car, we continued to hold hands and stayed close throughout the ride home.

Once inside, Patrick thanked me for the lovely evening and I couldn't resist giving him a quick, almost unmotherly kiss before saying goodnight. But as I settled into bed, my hands seemed to have a mind of their own, slipping under my shorts and T-shirt. My nipples were erect and my pussy was wet and swollen - it was clear that I had not remained completely unaffected by what had happened earlier. After just a few minutes of using my fingers to manipulate myself, I reached a much-needed orgasm. Unlike other times, it wasn't my husband who I was fantasizing about; it was my son. And as I calmed down, feelings of guilt washed over me for allowing such thoughts to enter my mind. I swore never to think about my son in that way again.

Chapter 2.

As it was our tradition on a beautiful Saturday morning, we began our day with a sumptuous cooked breakfast. The scent of crispy bacon, savory sausages, and freshly brewed coffee filled our home. Being a normal teenager with an appetite to match, Patrick devoured everything. After that, we tackled the weekly task of thoroughly cleaning every nook and cranny. My son and I had discovered that this approach left us with minimal chores for the rest of the week. By working diligently, we were usually finished by noon, leaving us plenty of time to run errands and enjoy a leisurely lunch in town before settling into relaxation mode for the weekend. We often indulged in take-out meals while watching videos in the evening, allowing ourselves to fully unwind.

The events from yesterday were not mentioned throughout the day, much to my relief. As night fell, I retired to bed first but was soon joined by my son Patrick, clad in his comfortable nightwear.

That was a preview of Grown up Already. To read the rest purchase the book.

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