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How long had he had fantasies about her? Since puberty, he reckoned, but there was a vast difference between fantasy and reality. Or so he’d always thought. Mom had arrived at his house late that afternoon, face wet with tears, and had thrown herself into her son’s arms sobbing. The story had come out of her in fits and starts, mostly because she was ashamed. It wasn’t her fault Dad had cheated on her, and he’d slowly convinced her of that fact as she lay against him on his ratty sofa looking so demure and lovely in her skirt and silk blouse, rubbing her taupe-hose clad legs against his, letting her son brush her graying locks away from her face streaked with mascara and smudged lipstick. When had it changed? After her third drink? The weeping had stopped and comforting hands had become slightly exploratory. Only slightly. He wasn’t brave enough to make a move on his own mother, and he wasn’t sure it was something she’d want anyway. She was upset about Dad’s infidelity, a woman on. I watch you for a few minutes before quietly climbing in at the opposite end, to which you are swimming away from. I try to sneak up behind you, which I know won't be too hard as you are in concentration mode, and I'm close behind you when you reach the end and come up for a breather. As you adjust your goggles, you feel a warm breath on your back, but before you can turn around, you feel a pair of arms snake around your body, holding you tight and close.You laugh, managing to turn around, and you look down at me, my hair dripping water down over my face, a smile on my face as I whisper, "surprise," in the Australian accent you love so much. "Hey gorgeous," you say to me with a smile, before pulling me close for a quick hello kiss. As your eyes adjust to the light above water however, you realise that my body is quite warm. You hold me close, realising that your bare chest is pressed up against skin, and you can feel the mounds of my bare breasts pressed up against you. At the.
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