My mother and I have always had an unusually close relationship. As a small child she gave me the nickname "Mama's Little Shadow" because I followed her around everywhere she went, and she douted on me.
My father discouraged our attachment, arguing that it wasn't healthy. I can still remember some of the arguments between my parents. They separated when I was eight years old.
Mom and I moved into a small apartment in a poor neighborhood, where we got by on the Welfare we both drew. It was a big change from the nice home we'd lived in with my father. Now at night we went to bed to the sounds of sirens, the sheriff's department helicopter passing overhead again and again, and occasional gunshots or the voices of people arguing and fighting.
I asked mom to let me sleep in bed with her. Our apartment only had the one bed and I'd been sleeping on the couch every night. Mom agreed and we'd snuggle up together every night.
One night, just out of simple curiosity and a surge of prepubescent lust I reached out and fondled one of my mother's breasts in the dark. She woke up and sent me back to the couch, but didnt seem angry.
Somehow she got it into her head (maybe from one of her parenting magazines or tv) that the separation and move had traumatized me and that I was regressing to the old comfort of nursing as a means of relieving stress. She decided that allowing me to suckle her, despite my age - would help calm my nerve and allow me to settle into the new situation better. So she reinvited me into her bed at night.
I still remember that first night. She lowered the strap on the nightgown she wore and exposed a single breast and told me it was ok if I wanted to touch it or suckle on it. I stared at her heavy, fleshy tit for a moment and then touched it, squeezing softly, running my fingers over the nipple. Then I snuggled up against her and began sucking it as she stroked my hair lovingly.
The nursing continued well into puberty. When she noticed that I was becoming sexually aroused by it, she again considered whether or not to stop. But decided that it was better to offer herself to ease my sexual desires than to let me seek comfort elsewhere and maybe catch AIDs or some other STD. She reasoned that kids my age were going to have sex one way or another and it was safer and better to make sure I had a clean partner than to waste her breath telling me to save it for marriage. And so we became lovers.
Mom lovingly taught me everything about sex. Numerous positions and how to please a woman. Anytime I felt those teenage hormonal surges she accommodated me, whether it was first thing in the morning as I got ready for school, the middle of the day or bedtime. We both loved making love to one another. Because we genuinely loved each other.
By the time I reached my middle 30's we weren't just mother and son anymore. We were in love. I considered her my wife and she introduced me as her husband. We had long since moved to a new community and no longer communicated with my father. We had a nice little home, and a dog and two cats we considered our kids. I worked in real estate. We had a good life. But then cancer reared its ugly head.
Mom fought tooth and nail and I stood by her til the very end, telling her how much I loved her in those final moments.
I remained alone for years afterward, and have only just recently began dating. I've met someone special and admitted my past to her. She didn't hold it against me or think it disgusting. She told me she thought it was beautiful. So I think she's a keeper.
I and my mother's love was a beautiful thing. I loved her as a mother, a companion and a wife. She'll always be my heart.