A Mother’s Second Chance

A Mother’s Second Chance: The Most Innocent of Seductions

Gail wasn’t alone. It was impossible, of course, but still she knew it to be the truth. No matter how unfeasible it may have seemed– she… was… not… alone.

It took a whole year to get to this point, but when it finally arrived Gail was left breathless with pent up anticipation. Deep down inside, she understood his presence still lingered throughout the house, watching, waiting, and now, maybe, just maybe, her long, lonely wait was over.

It was nearly eleven pm, exactly one year after the tragic accident which took her son’s life on, of all days, his birthday..

What really troubled Gail was the stark realization his accident, his death, could have been easily avoided–if only she would have been a bit braver that evening.

Gail, alone in her bedroom, alone in the big house, alone in her sad life, was in the process of getting undressed when she heard the distinct sound of her bedroom’s closet door being opened slowly.

She paused halfway through pulling her sweater up. She let it drop back down, before turning to stare across her spacious bedroom at the closet door. Although she could see no one, she perceived someone was there. If only to reaffirm this feeling, there seemed to come from the closet a small creaking noise– as if someone, just inside the door, standing there, shifted their weight.

Of course, the house was old and prone to a whole array of weird noises. Gail knew this, yet still, she felt sure of being watched.

Gail stood still while silently weighing her options. Part of her wanted to rush across the bedroom, fling the closet door open, exposing who, or what, might be there. She quickly dismissed this option as being overly aggressive. Instead, she started across the bedroom, heading toward her bathroom, deciding to get undressed there in perceived safety.

She progressed no more than a few feet when she heard the closet door creak louder this time; like when it was being opened fully.

Turning, she looked across the dimly lit room having just enough time to observe a dark figure standing in the entrance to her closet, but before she could make out anything further, the bedroom was plunged into total darkness when, simultaneously, both lamps on the nightstands flanking her bed went out.

She stood there, her breath coming in shallow gasps, knowing for sure now she was not alone, leaving her scared, yet not sacred, both feelings seemingly joined at the hip. She counted to ten slowly in an effort to calm her jangled nerves, and to allow her eyes to adjust to the dark. After reaching ten, with the bedroom remaining eerily quiet, she moved cautiously toward the nearer of the two nightstands.

About a month ago, she had taken the precaution of placing a variety of candles on both nightstands, along with matches, ready to be lit at a moment’s notice. The lights in the old house had been–unstable– for quite some time now. She suspected, especially when the electrician could find nothing wrong, it was him messing with the lights.

She tried clicking on the lamp. Nothing. She straightened up, thinking she heard a noise behind her. Total silence. It seemed to stretch out forever– as she stood still waiting, and hoping in the darkness.

“William… is that you?” she asked quietly.

After what seemed like forever a quiet voice answered. “Only one.” The voice was too soft for her to identify– with absolute certainty– but it surely sounded like her William.

“Only one,” she repeated softly to herself, before understanding what it meant. Turning to the nightstand, she picked up the matches and lit one of the white tapered candles in its glass candle holder.

Gail, desperate for deeper and more meaningful contact, previously decided, on this anniversary night, if he did try to make contact with her, to be utterly fearless–unlike one year ago.

Her heart skipped a beat when she heard the sound of footsteps crossing the room toward her before stopping a few feet away. Gail listened carefully. She could hear the sound of breathing by the foot of the bed. There was a small thud; something landed on the bed.

Turning toward the bed, she could see it was her white satin robe, folded neatly in a square.

His voice came floating to her, loud enough this time to identify, from somewhere across the dark bedroom. It was him! He was standing back, far enough away from the small pool of light cast by the candle where he was nothing more than an indistinct figure to her. Despite not being able to see him clearly, it was him. She knew it. He had returned–but to what purpose?

“Bathroom, put it on and nothing more.” His voice was clear and concise.

“I–”

Cutting her off he snapped, “No questions, Mother, or I shall disappear for good this time.”

She started to open her mouth, to question him further, despite his dire warning, but as she strained to make out his features he seemed to be fading.

Snapping her mouth shut, she picked up the robe and headed to the bathroom. It was the same robe she wore the night he died.

Just as she reached the doorway, she turned. “Nothing else, William?”

“Nothing else. Take your time. Things to prepare. Will knock when time.”

“OK,” she said before disappearing inside the bathroom.

Inside, she took her time stripping off her clothes, mulling over how impossible it was she just had a real conversation with her dead son, but yet, she did. Deciding it might not be very wise to over think things too much, Gail let the matter of what was possible, and what was not possible, drop. She would just accept things as they came.

After slipping the robe over her naked body, she moved closer to the bathroom door, straining to hear what he was up to out there. She could hear a bit of indistinct movement, but nothing more.

Sighing, she moved away from the door. Turning to the mirror, she looked at herself, before deciding a bit of makeup couldn’t hurt.

As Gail slowly applied her makeup, her mind wandered back to that fateful evening, one year ago to the day. Gail and her son William were celebrating his birthday by spending the day together. They played tennis at the club in the afternoon, then followed that up by going shopping, before returning home to enjoy a quiet dinner.

After a dinner, where they both consumed copious amount of wine, at her insistence, and in honor of his birthday, they shared an intimate slow dance. After the dance, they retired to the living room to snuggle under a quilt, while watching a movie on this unusually cold and stormy early May evening.

After the movie, she fell asleep for a bit before waking up to find him curled up asleep next to her. She gently ran her fingers through his hair and when he didn’t wake up, she slipped off the sofa and quietly made her way upstairs.

Up in her bedroom, she quickly changed out of her nice clothes and into her usual sleeping attire: her favorite blush colored front closure leisure bra and a pair of simple matching boy short panties. Slipping on her satin robe, she hurried back downstairs to her son.

William was just sitting up rubbing his eyes, when she came hurrying into the room. A short conversation, in which she complained about her back being sore from their earlier tennis match, led to her being stretched out on the sofa receiving a harmless little back rub.

Shortly after the massage started, she innocently complained about her robe being in the way, and would he mind very much if she took it off. Of course, he mumbled his compliance.

After the massage was over, feeling relaxed and carefree from both the wine and his backrub, she hesitated putting her robe back on as she was liking the way his eyes kept flickering down to her chest. And why shouldn’t they, as, after all, Gail did possess a pair of nice 36 inch, D cup tits.

She could only assume he was rather captivated by how she looked in her bra… otherwise why the constant side long glances at her chest. The feeling, instead of making her uncomfortable, only gave her the confidence to keep showing off for him.

The raw sexual tension continued to grow between them as they sat side by side on the sofa, making small talk, with Gail nonchalantly sitting there in her underwear. By the nervous way he was fidgeting, she could tell her son was curious about why she wasn’t putting her robe back on.

Since she could not tell him the truth–she was enjoying showing off for him–she chose to simply comment on how she didn’t need to put her robe back, since it was late and they would be going up to bed shortly anyways. And besides that, she added how the wine she drank earlier in the night left her feeling a bit warm.

The final act of the night’s drama commenced when she reminded him it was almost midnight and she was yet to give him his traditional happy birthday kisses.

Their kisses, sweet and innocent at first, soon turned serious, with their lips lingering on each other’s. Her growing apprehension, tinged as it was with untold excitement from their not so innocent little kissing session, only grew stronger when she felt one of his hands– ever so slowly– sliding across her bare tummy, and upwards– as they continued to exchange kisses. Was he planning on trying to feel her up? Sadly, she would never know as she simply became unnerved, hopping to her feet in an abrupt change of moods.

Thinking he had pushed things way too far, William, thoroughly embarrassed, hurried off upstairs to his room–without telling her he loved her, as he always did, every night without fail, before bedtime.

Gail was ashamed of letting things go so far. She knew she should have went after him, talked to him, but instead she let him go. Less than five minutes later, she was in the kitchen, finishing cleaning up, when she heard their cat, Felix, let out a loud yowl, followed quickly by William cursing, equally loud, and then a series of loud thumps, all coming from the stairs.

Gail rushed over to find William lying unconscious at the bottom of the stairs. He never regained conscious, dying sometime during the ambulance ride to the hospital. They listed his death as officially being 11:02 p.m. on May 11. He was nineteen years old.

Gail wanted to blame Felix but was it truly his fault? They both knew Felix liked to stretch out on the stairs, especially toward the top it seemed, and she had cautioned him about coming down the dark stairs at night, lest he trip over the cat, and break his neck falling down the stairs. Sadly, that is exactly what happened.

Not being able to hold the cat responsible for her son’s tragic death only left one person to blame: herself. It was always in the back of her mind. What if she would not have broken their kisses off: Would he still be alive? The memory haunted her.

A quiet knock on the door made her jump. It was show time apparently. Sighing deeply, she turned to the bathroom door before hesitating. Did she really have to go out there and face him? A big part of her, of course, desperately wanted to, but there was a smaller part of her advising extreme caution. It was this smaller part of her that caused the hesitation.

As she stood there, silently debating about leaving the safety of the bathroom, suddenly the light in the bathroom went out. Fumbling around the wall, Gail found the switch and flipped it–nothing.

Another knock on the door, louder this time, made her jump again. She didn’t care much for the dark, in fact, she still slept with a night light on. Apparently, she would have to exit the perceived security of the bathroom as standing there in the dark was not a desirable option.

Gail slowly cracked the door open, peeking outside. The bedroom was dark. Slowly she stepped out of the bathroom, meaning to make a bee line toward her nightstand to try turning on the lamp there, or if the lamp was not working, light some candles.

She just got a few feet toward the nearest nightstand when, from across the bedroom, a good twelve to fifteen feet away maybe, five small tea candles flared to life. They were sitting in a rough circle on the floor.

Gail cautiously approached the candles trying to still her fluttering heart. William knew his mom had a bit of a candle fetish and apparently this was something he remembered–even in death.

There was something inside the flaming circle. Bending over, Gail peered at what was sitting inside that rough circle of light: One of her nice champagne flutes, filled to the brim.

Gail bent over, picking up the flute. Bringing it to her nose, she sniffed. Champagne. “I imagine I am expected to drink this,” she whispered to herself.

She wavered. Champagne tended to make her as randy as a bobcat in heat. Plus, did she really want to add alcohol to the mix on what was turning out to be a rather serious encounter with the ghostly spirit of her son?

Only a few seconds passed with her holding the flute of champagne aloft, still trying to decide if she should drink the champagne when, simultaneously all five of the candles went out.

She resisted a smile as she brought the flute to her lips. He knew her weakness, being in the dark, and just like in the bathroom was using it to his advantage to steer her in the direction he wanted her to go.

Gail tipped the flute back draining the contents in three quick swallows. Not surprisingly, she was rewarded when a fresh set of candles, arranged in a small circle like the first set, flared to life over by the closet.

As she approached this new set of five candles, she spied another flute of what she could only assume to be more champagne sitting inside the flaming circle.

Stopping in front of the circle, she let out a shaky breath. There was something a bit more ominous placed neatly alongside the flute. After gulping down the flute full of champagne– apparently he wanted her a bit tipsy, just like one year ago– she turned her attention to the other items sitting there.

Folded neatly in half was her former favorite: the blush colored front closure leisure bra. Under the bra was her pair of matching boy short panties. Seeing the bra and panties sitting there was more than a bit surprising as directly after the accident, Gail considered throwing both the bra and the panties away, but in the end decided to keep them as a symbolic tribute to his memory, but without ever wearing them again. Well, apparently her plans were about to change.

Gail again hesitated while weighing her options. Once again, the candles began to wink out, one by one, causing her to throw caution to the wind. Complying with his wishes, she quickly slipped both the bra and panties on under her robe.

Just like before, she was left in the dark only momentarily as a fresh set of candles flickered to life –this time over by her dresser. As Gail started to cross the bedroom, her palms became sweaty with anticipation. Things were definitely trending in a naughty direction.

Her pulse quickened as she saw the shoes laying in the middle of the circle of candles… next to another glass of champagne.

“Oh my God,” Gail whispered. The shoes were the exact ones she wore during their dinner one year ago. She remembered now how he had told her, more than once, how sexy she looked in her new shoes.

Gail bought the shoes, a pair of classy looking, silver round-toed pumps, with four inch stiletto heels, just for him, just for his birthday, mainly because whenever she wore a nice pair of sexy heels he never failed to compliment her. And just like the bra and panties, her heels were designated to be never worn again, suffering the same fate after she buried them deep in her closet.

Before she could lose her nerve, Gail picked up the flute of champagne, along with the shoes, and headed over to the nearby bed. She first drained half the glass of champagne, before plopping down on the bed to put on the shoes.

After getting them on, she stood up and finished off the balance of her champagne. The shoes, combined with the three full glasses of champagne, along with the underwear she was now wearing, all left Gail feeling both sexy and alive for the first time, well, since his death. It was a good feeling, and one she would not relish giving up so easily.

Gail, at the age of thirty four, she had William when she was only a teenager, still possessed much of her youthful beauty. She could have been the poster child for the pretty young high school cheerleader/prom queen, turned attractive thirty something year old soccer mom.

Actually such a description would have been wholly accurate as Gail had been a cheerleader, along with being prom queen, and William did play soccer the whole time growing up.

Her youthful looking skin, perfect and glowing, was accented by a shoulder length tumble of golden blonde hair she often kept pinned up in a pretty bun behind her ear–just the way William liked it–but it was those dew pond round eyes, an effervescent champagne brown which always gave poor William fits as he would simply find himself lost in their beauty.

It was all this attributes, combined with a still shapely body, honed by– in an effort to just get her out of the house and do something positive since his death–a four times a week workout regimen at the gym which left Gail still looking fine in her mid-thirties.

Gail leaned against the tall dresser to steady herself… waiting for whatever might happen next. Thankfully, the last group of five candles stayed lit.

A good minute or two passed with nothing happening. The bedroom, much to her chagrin, remained deathly silent. Finally, after what seemed forever, there came a low creaking noise from across the room.

Gail turned toward the sound. The closet door, it had been almost shut, now swung halfway open. A feeling of being watched came over her once more.

Still, she just stood there, holding her breath. Her mind was whirling. Is he waiting for me to do something? Another quiet minute passed. She still sensed someone was watching her, but if so, what were they waiting for?

Then it hit her–she was expected to take off her robe. Maybe he was trying to replicate things from last year when she was lounging around in only her bra and panties after their massage.

It was probably the champagne which allowed Gail to have the courage to slowly, after turning to the closet so she was facing it fully, start to untie the robe. The closet door creaked open a bit more after she got the knot holding her white satin robe undone.

Taking a deep breath, cognizant of being observed more than ever, Gail leisurely stripped the robe off her body, letting it flutter unceremoniously to the floor.

She stood there, peering into the dark shadows of the closet, the door was now almost fully open, thinking she could just make out an indistinct figure standing there.

Another whole minute passed before Gail, thinking maybe he was waiting for her to take charge, after all she was the mom, took some decisive action.

“William, I can see you standing there, inside the closet looking at me. Come on out honey and communicate with your mother.”

There was no response, even after she slowly counted to ten, in yet another effort to calm her nerves.

Gail was starting to get scared. “W-who’s there? Please tell me. Do you wish to speak to me? If it’s you William, show me something, anything, p-please some… some kind of sign.”

Then a voice came floating across the dimly lit bedroom. Gail let out a sigh of pent up relief as the voice, strong and masculine, but clearly his, announced, “Turn around… away from the closet. Face the dresser. I will come to you.”

Gail vacillated, not wanting to obey right away. She wanted to ask questions or maybe even to dash across the room and try to hug him.

Her hesitation was met with darkness as all five of the nearby candles flared out at the exact same moment. The room, to her dismay, was plunged into total darkness.

Once more, there was a long drawn out moment of silence, as Gail stood there shivering, still waiting for something, anything, to happen. Finally, lacking any other better options, she finally turned around to face the dresser.

After a brief moment of silence, she could–just barely–make out the sound of someone crossing the bedroom toward her. Then came a whispered voice in her ear.

“Your shivering, Mom.”

He was behind her, very close, she could feel his breath tickling her neck, could smell a faint whiff of his cologne–it was the same cologne she gave him as a birthday gift, the same cologne he was wearing during their little impromptu make out session, one year ago.

She was about to turn around when he spoke up again, a bit louder and more forceful this time, “Don’t turn around, you wouldn’t be able to see me anyways… not in the dark, not if I don’t want you to.”

She heard the quiet clink of something being placed down on the top of the dresser. “Just one more. Drink it quickly… and then you should be just relaxed enough to… make things up to me.”

When he didn’t say anything more she replied, “But honey I… I already had three glasses full. Yeah, I have had enough already,” she protested. “And it’s dark. I think it is you making the candles go out and won’t let the lights come on. Can’t you please let me have a little light and then I can start making things up to you.”

“Drink, and then you shall have light.”

“OK, OK,” she said, picking up the flute of champagne. Wanting the light desperately, Gail downed half the glass before pausing.

She felt the glass being pushed back to her lips. “Quickly. I think you will be fun to play with when you are drunk.”

“Sure I will be,” she whispered before polishing off the champagne. The buzz hit her now, hard, as she stood swaying on her feet.

She sat the empty flute back down on the dresser before whispering, “Please honey, you promised… the lights?”

“OK… close your eyes and when I tell you in a minute to open them you shall have your light.”

She obeyed as she felt a hand wrapping itself around her wrist. The hand, his hand, it was solid yet, not so much. It was like being touched by a solid puff of wind… or something like that. Whatever the case, the hand was strong enough, impelling enough, to led her silently across the bedroom. Being a bit tipsy from the champagne, no, make that a whole lot tipsy, and with her eyes shut, Gail had no real idea of where she was being taken.

Maybe to my bed!! The thought caused a flash of pure unbidden desire to wash over her, but it was soon replaced by an equal flash of disappointment when she found herself being sat down on the wide cushioned bench in front of her vanity table.

There was a moment of utter silence, was he still there, after she got settled. Then from directly behind her came his voice, once again soft and commanding. “You can open your eyes now, Mother.”

Gail’s eyes fluttered open to the welcoming sight of a trio of flaming pillar candles spaced neatly apart sitting on her vanity table. Her sigh of relief at having some friendly light was quickly replaced by a sharp cry of sheer surprise. Standing behind her was her son!

She could see his image, not spectral in the least, but clear as anything, in the vanity table’s large mirror. Their eyes met in the mirror. Christ, he looked gorgeous standing there– glowing with youthful handsomeness.

He was wearing the same pair of tight, battered Levi’s he wore that night, along with the same nice light blue button up dress shirt. His dark hair was still long, hanging almost to his shoulders in the back, and appeared to be a bit disheveled–yeah, just the way she liked it. On his face was what, a smile, a smirk, a look of bemusement maybe.

He started to speak, saying, “Don’t bother turning around–”

He might as well have told her, “Don’t bother to breath,” as she whipped her head around. She just couldn’t help herself.

He was gone. As gone as completely and utterly as if he was never there. Except, he was there! She could still smell his cologne, could still sense his presence.

Then as confirmation he spoke. “You can’t see me, Mother, not directly, anyways. Look in the mirror again.”

Gail turned her head back around, her eyes flickering to the mirror immediately. He was there, this time with a most definitive smirk on his handsome face.

She watched, spellbound, as he lowered his mouth to her ear, “Don’t be scared,” he intoned to her softly.

After taking a quick moment to steel her nerves, she replied, “I’m not scared… honey. Why would I be?”

“No reason,” he whispered as straightened back up. “I only came back to claim what is rightfully mine.”

Trying to sound braver than she felt, Gail answered back, “And what is that sweetheart?”

“Just you,” he said. She watched as he brought his hands up, before letting them rest of her shoulders. “Just this.”

He began to softly knead her shoulders, causing Gail to let out a gentle sigh. His hands, they weren’t cold or clammy in the least. Instead, they felt warm and a bit rough… in other words, perfectly alive and masculine.

She sat there, barely willing to breathe, let alone move, as she felt him work his hands back and forth across her shoulders once, and then a second time.

“Feel good, Mom?” he whispered as he started to knead the muscles at the base of her neck.

“Hmm, yes… yes it does, William” she said, leaning back and closing her eyes. When she leaned her head back against his midsection, it was solid, yet malleable all at once. It was almost like his body had a soft pillowy feeling to it.

After she let out another long sigh, she opened her eyes. He was staring at her with an expectant look on his face. Even in death, she could read her son like an open book. She knew that look well–he wanted something.

Her eyes flickered up to meet his in the mirror. “What do you want from me, honey?”

After a brief pause, his hands were now stroking her hair, he answered quietly, “It’s not what I want, but what I need.”

“OK what do you need?”

Once again, she watched as he lowered his mouth to her ear. His voice was low and pitiful as he whispered, “Death is cold and lonely. I need your warmth, your love. Please, can you give that to me, Mommy? Pretty please.”

Maybe it was the absolute pity in his voice, maybe it was because of the sweet way he called her “Mommy”, but whatever it was, it worked as Gail gave in completely.

“Yes, of course sweetie,” she quickly replied as her heart thundered in her chest caused by the mere implications of what this could mean. She took a deep breath, trying to still her heart, before adding, “And just how do you want Mommy to give her baby such warmth and such love.”

“Like this,” he replied softly before slipping one finger, she watched the image of it in the mirror, under her chin. Using just enough force, he tilted her face up to him as he whispered, “Close your eyes.”

She obeyed, closing her eyes, mere seconds before their lips came together. Their kisses, sweet and innocent at first, soon turned serious when she felt his tongue slip into her mouth.

Despite how good it felt, Gail stiffened, and then pulled back at feeling his tongue roaming around inside her mouth.

“Please, Mommy, kissing is warm, kissing is love… need more… want more.”

He tried to kiss her again, but Gail was scared. If she would not have broken his wicked kiss off when she did, she wasn’t so sure she could have stopped… at all.

When he attempted another kiss, she twisted her mouth away. This latest attempt denied, he instead attacked her neck with a series of impassioned kisses, leaving her squirming all over the vanity’s wide bench, before she was able to twist away just enough to break contact.

She looked up in the mirror now, meaning to what… chastise him for his amorous behavior, but when she observed his reflection in the mirror, first wavering, and then starting to disappear, any idea of reprimanding him left her mind.

“Please Mommy, don’t let me go. It’s dark there and cold… please hold me, cuddle me.”

She reached out behind her, slinking an arm around his midsection–it was cold now–and more yielding than ever.

He was disappearing! She understood this in her heart of hearts: If he was to dematerialize now he wouldn’t be returning; somehow she just knew this.

Gail was edging toward a full blown panic; she could see through his image. She tried to grip him tighter whispering, “Yes, let me cuddle you, and warm you up. Mommy will protect you from the dark, honey. Sit down here behind me and snuggle up close to me.”

She patted the vanity bench behind her as she scooted forward to the very front edge so he would have room to sit. She let out a small sigh of relief when she both saw– and felt– his still wavering image, it had a more defined aspect to it now, sit down behind her.

She heard his whispered plea, “Need Mommy’s warm kisses,” and gave in. Totally. Turning her face, she closed her eyes and felt his cold lips press against hers.

They kissed, his icy tongue dipping and swirling into her warm mouth. This time she would try harder to deny him nothing, but when she felt the chilly touch of his fingers floating across her tummy, and up toward her breasts, her natural defense mechanisms kicked in.

She jumped to her feet, breaking off their kiss while brushing at the vague outline of his hands. She half cried, half whispered, “No honey that is going too far.”

“Please, Mommy, pretty please.” Glancing at the mirror she observed how his outline was fading, leaving scarcely anything of him but a small sparkle where his eyes would be.

Gail sank back down on the bench, finally resigning herself to her fate. Basically, she suspected to deny him now would mean he would be gone forever.

“OK” she whispered, “You can… I mean… I… I won’t stop you.”

To further amplify her point she clasped her hands behind her back while thrusting her chest out toward the mirror in a most inviting manner.

Her eyes were riveted to the mirror as she watched a pair of nebulous hands slip up and around her mid-section. Not surprisingly, they were rising to converge on her breasts.

Pulling her eyes off the mirror, she gazed down at her bra only to see her breasts being squeezed and fondled by unseen hands. Yes, amazingly enough, it was true; although she couldn’t see his hands, since she wasn’t looking in the mirror, she could clearly observe the outline of his fingertips pushing in on her bra.

It was wild, watching her tits being manipulated so firmly by these naughty invisible hands.

“Better?” she whispered, glancing up to look at his image in the mirror. It was much more defined than before.

“It would be better still,” his voice whispered in her ear, “if your bra wasn’t in the way, Mother. Can I take it off or shall you deny me again?”

After a moment’s hesitation, she whispered back, “No, no, no, I don’t deny you anything sweetie… you can take your mom’s bra off.”

Her bra closed in the front, secured by a row of five clasps, and as Gail anxiously peered in the mirror, she observed a pair of misty fingers wrapping themselves around the top clasp.

Slowly the clasp came undone before the vaporous strands of his fingers slipped down to the next clasp. Just like the first clasp, the second one came undone in a leisurely fashion… and then the third, fourth and fifth.

By the end Gail was looking down at her chest directly watching with amazement as her bra seemingly was coming undone by itself.

When the bra finally parted, revealing her sizable breasts to the tender mercies of those ethereal, vaporous fingers, Gail let out a soft sigh. The fingers, gentle and playful, began by twisting their tendrils around each of her nipples making them snap to attention in a most delightful fashion.

Gail, her eyes fixed on the mirror so she could observe what was happening, was amazed at how good his misty fingers felt. Blessed with a pair of extremely sensitive nipples, she was soon sighing contentedly while his nebulous hands spread its fingers all over her tits wrapping them in a cloak of delightful pleasure.

Tearing her eyes off the mirror, Gail peered down directly at her chest. Although she could not see his hands, her tits were clearly being squeezed and fondled.

She watched a few seconds more, simply amazed this could be happening, before she felt a gentle hand turn her face back. They kissed with no pretense of innocence this time as their tongues slipped in and out of each other mouths.

He pulled back slightly, whispering in between kisses, “Still cold. Need the warmth of my mom’s breasts… in my mouth.”

“Honey, I…” She started to tell him no. It was an automatic response but before she could get the words out his kisses were already slipping down and off her mouth and onto her neck.

She glanced up at the mirror; he appeared much more solid now as he implored her to give in. “Please Mom, pretty please let me taste their warmth. Do not deny me yet again.”

Using the mirror as a guide, she slipped one hand around his head, she could actually feel the soft texture of his long hair, helping to push him further down.

“I deny you nothing baby. Go on you can…” She paused, taking a deep breath, before utterly abandoning herself to him. “You can suck on your mom’s tits.”

He began by showering her chest with dozens of light kisses before whispering, “Promise… say it again aloud… say I can… anytime I want… anywhere I want.”

“Yes, baby, anytime, anywhere, you can suck on my tits. I promise.”

Fully prepared to honor her promise, Gail twisted around to face him, allowing full access to her breasts.

She took one last look at the mirror, he appeared to be fully formed now as his mouth hovered mere inches from the first of her lovely breasts.

She closed her eyes, knowing she was being so very naughty… and not caring.

“Oh God,” Gail whispered as she felt her tits being suckled on with a tenderness that absolutely turned her on. Her hand slipped down, cradling him against her chest. His tongue lashed out, attacking her fully erect nipples with a reckless abandon, causing her to let out a low hiss.

With her eyes still shut tight, Gail felt herself being carefully pushed backwards onto the vanity bench as the gentle rain of kisses all over her tits continued.

She let out another pronounced sigh as her breasts were being so sweetly suckled on, each in turn, by the ethereal image of her ghostly son. The whole thing was unbelievable in itself, and so very naughty, but yet, Gail was fucking wetter than ever down there.

“Open your eyes, Mother. I want to show you something.”

Her eyes flickered open. He was standing up now, between the table and the bench. He was growing lighter–more transparent that is– as he whispered, “Just watch.”

Gail watched as he son’s body slowly became noticeably less solid. Before her very eyes he seemed to be turning into a luminous mist. She could still see the outline of his body, but yet inside this tenuous outline he was slowly disappearing before her very eyes.

“Please honey… don’t leave me,” she whispered. “Please stay.” Yes, she needed him, now more than ever, especially since the soft attentions he quietly paid to her breasts had completely and totally set her pussy on fire with a burning desire to be satisfied.

Spellbound, Gail watched the mist, shaped in the loose image of a body, begin to glow and pulsate as it floated just next to her.

“Use a finger,” an otherworldly voice said to her.

“To do what?” Gail answered quietly. Despite answering, she could barely acknowledge this voice coming from the mist was actually her son’s.

“To pull your panties away from your body slightly.”

“But wh–”

“No questions, just do it,” the voice from the floating mist hissed at her.

Gail only hesitated for a brief moment before reaching down. Using one finger –as instructed– she hooked it under the waistband of her panties and pulled them back away from her body. What happened next defied imagination.

The mist collapsed upon itself, becoming smaller and more condensed before floating down. Using the opening Gail created by pulling her boy shorts away from her body, the streamlined mist disappeared inside her panties as Gail let out a surprised gasp.

Gail looked down. She could see the front of her panties bulging outwards ever so slightly. Through her panties she could see the soft glow of the still luminous mist. It was pulsating stronger now, almost like a heart beating, and then… MY GOD… it was as if her pussy was being showered by a dozens of light kisses all at once.

The small blob of mist swirled and throbbed inside her panties. Involuntarily, Gail spread her legs wider as she collapsed back against the vanity bench. Closing her eyes, she felt what could have been dozens of tiny tongues all flickering along her clit so very gently, ruffling it like a soft summer breeze.

“Oh shit… that feels so good,” Gail whispered. A pronounced moan escaped from her lips as she felt her clit being attacked eagerly by her son, yes the mist trapped inside her panties was, somehow, amazingly enough, her son.

The flickering along her clit became more explicit as she felt what very well may have been a finger being pushed up and inside of her.

She let out a low hiss as she started to bounce her hips up and down, riding this incredible otherworldly wave of pleasure.

It didn’t take long. Gail was rushing headlong to a mighty climax as the misty blob worked its magic inside her boy shorts. The dozens of flickering tongues, it felt that way, worked perfectly in unison with the solid finger being pushed up inside of her propelling her to a tremendous orgasm.

“OH GOD YES… MOMMY IS COMING,” Gail fairly shouted as she lost all sense of decorum while bucking wildly on the vanity bench.

When she finally opened her eyes the bedroom was quiet. The mist was gone from inside her panties. She sat up looking around. She didn’t see any sign of him.

Twisting her head back around, she peered at the mirror hoping to see him that way.

Her heart jumped when she saw just the vaguest outline of him standing behind her.

There was a matter of fact whisper in her ear. “Was that good, Mother?”

“That was… wonderfully special honey. You made… you made me come so hard. You turning into a… mist I guess and doing that I mean…” She shook her head. She was still actually dazed from the sheer intensity of her orgasm.

As she sat there, gazing into the mirror at him standing behind her, his image was growing fainter.

“Honey, you are disappearing it looks like. Please… don’t leave me. Not yet.”

“I used all my energy giving you pleasure.”

“Please… there must be something I can do.”

“Turn around… t-touch me… re-restore me or I c-can never… return. The dark, the awful coldness… is taking… me.” His voice was ultra-faint, barely rising to a whisper as he uttered three final words. “Must… pleasure… me.” By the time he finished speaking these halting, fading words Gail was in a near panic.

Quickly she turned around, throwing her legs over the vanity bench so she was facing him. With her back to the mirror, she could not see him anymore. Reaching up, she began patting the air with both hands searching for her son.

She felt nothing for a brief moment before she reached up a bit higher, searching frantically, as she started to edge toward a full blown panic.

She found him, her fingers just grazing up against the solid smoothness of one cheek. It was a bit cold, but yes solid. He was still here!

Her fingertips slid across his check, brushing up against his ear and then his hair.

Her hands slipped down, across his chest, its bare flesh was yielding, and oh so cold. His face, his cheek, his hair, when she touched them all just mere seconds ago were not like this soft, pliable flesh of his chest, but solid.