Chapter 2: The First Kiss
Ashley's words hung in the air like smoke, slow and impossible to grasp. Peter sat frozen, his hands gripping the blanket at his sides, knuckles white. She was so close now, her knees almost touching his thigh, and the wine on her breath filled the space between them. He watched her lips, watched the way they parted just slightly, and his mouth went dry.
"It's okay," she whispered, her voice barely there. "Just let me show you." Her hand came up again, fingers trembling as they found his jaw. The touch was feather-light, almost questioning, as if she needed his permission all over again. He didn't pull away. He couldn't.
Her thumb traced his lower lip, slow and deliberate, and Peter felt his heartbeat hammer against his ribs. The room was so quiet he could hear his own breathing, shallow and ragged. "You've kissed a girl before, right?" she asked softly. "God, I don't know how to ask this without feeling insane, but... you have, haven't you?"
"A couple times," he admitted, his voice cracking. "Nothing serious. Jessica and I, we've only done a little."
"Then you know the basics." She smiled, a fragile thing. "But a real kiss, the kind that makes you feel it in your bones, that's different. That's what I'm going to teach you."
Ashley leaned in and the world tilted. Her lips brushed his, soft and warm, and Peter's breath caught in his throat. She pulled back just a breath, her forehead almost touching his. "Relax," she murmured, tasting the word against his mouth. "Don't think. Just feel."
She kissed him again, fuller this time, her lips parting as they pressed against his. Heat flooded through Peter's chest, down into his belly, and he felt himself harden inside his jeans without meaning to. Her mouth moved against his, slow and searching, and he tried to keep up, tried to remember what he'd learned with Jessica. But this was nothing like that. His mother tasted like wine and something sweeter underneath, and her tongue grazed his lower lip, asking a question.
"Now just open the lips, and relax. Feel this new stuff very gently, we are going to make this together and nothing will be the same from now, my dear boy. You are going to become a man but the learning will be too sweet and magic as I can do it for you" she whispered in his ears with a slow voice that was incredibly erotic.
Peter opened his lips for her and she answered. Her tongue slid gently and deep into his mouth, wet and warm. A sound escaped from him, a low, involuntary moan that he couldn't supress. She made a soft and sensual noise in response like she was a tender cat stretching his body. Then she pressed closer, and her tongue swept along his, curling and stroking in a rhythm he'd never felt before. It was dizzying. Her hand slid from his jaw to the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer, and Peter's own hands found her waist without thinking.
Their tongues danced, tangled, retreated and returned. She tasted him, explored him, each stroke of her tongue sending electric shocks down his spine. He was trembling, he realized, his whole body shaking as she kissed him deeper, taking his tongue into her mouth, sucking gently, almost lazily. The slick, wet sound of their mouths moving together filled the quiet room.
"That's it," she breathed against his lips, her voice ragged. "Do you feel that? How it's not just your lips, but your whole body getting involved?"
"Yeah," he gasped. "God, Mom, yeah."
She kissed him again before he could say more, her tongue plunging deeper this time, demanding more than he knew how to give. He gave her everything he had.
Her tongue slid slow against his, a slick, deliberate stroke, and Peter lost the thread of everything except the wet heat of her mouth. Their tongues were exploring the deepest and secrets of their mouths, in search of more and more discoveries. The tension was crescent, the skins were sensitive and anxious to new touches. The breathing of both revealed the erotic moment that was getting near.
Then his hands, which had been resting at her waist, moved on their own. They slid down, found the hem of her skirt, and slipped beneath it.
Her skin was warm and smooth, and he felt her breath catch against his lips. She pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes dark and a little wild.
“Oh,” she breathed. “You’re doing that.”
“Should I stop?” His voice came out rough.
“No.” She shook her head, a strand of hair falling loose across her cheek. “Please, go on. Don’t stop.”
His palms moved up her thighs, slow, over the bare flesh above her stockings. The muscle there tensed under his fingers, then softened. She shifted her weight, opened her legs a little wider so he could reach higher, and the hem of her skirt rode up around his wrists.
“That’s my body answering to you” she whispered. Her hand found the back of his neck again, nails scratching lightly at his hairline. “Feel how warm I am.”
He felt it. His thumbs brushed the tender skin of her inner thighs, the place where the flesh went soft and hot, and Ashley made a small sound deep in her throat. A sound he’d never heard from her before. It went straight to his cock, which was already straining hard and aching against his jeans.
She kissed him again, harder this time, her mouth open and hungry, her tongue pushing into his mouth like she was trying to taste the inside of his skull. Peter groaned into her and his fingers climbed higher, tracing the edge of her underwear through the cotton. It was damp. He could feel the heat of it through the fabric.
“Mom,” he gasped, breaking the kiss. “You’re…”
“I know.” Her cheeks were flushed, her mouth swollen and wet. She looked younger and more frightened than he’d ever seen her. “I know what I am right now. Don’t say it.”
He didn’t say it. He pressed his palm flat against her and she jerked, her hips rocking forward into his hand. The cotton was soaked through, and he could feel the shape of her beneath it, the seam of her, the wetness leaking through.
“Show me,” she said, her voice shaking. “Show me what you’d do to Jessica.”
“I don’t do anything to Jessica,” he admitted. “She won’t let me.”
Ashley laughed, a broken, breathy sound. “Then show me what you’d want to do.”
His fingers hooked under the cotton and slid it to one side. She was hot and slick against his fingertips, and when he touched her there, at the wet center of her, her whole body clenched. She bit down on her lip hard enough to whiten it.
“That’s good,” she whispered. “Little circles. Slow.”
He did it. Slow circles, the way she said, and her hips started to move in time with him. Her head fell back, exposing the long line of her throat, and she let out a shuddering breath that turned into a moan. It was obscene, hearing that from her, and it made him so hard he thought he might come in his jeans like a kid.
“Faster,” she said. “A little faster. And go lower when you want to.”
He went lower. His fingers slipped down through the wet folds and found the place she wanted, and when he pressed there her hand clamped down hard on his shoulder, her nails digging in.
“Fuck,” she hissed. Her hips bucked up off the mattress. “Don’t stop, don’t you dare stop.”
He didn’t stop. He worked her with two fingers, clumsy and eager, learning the rhythm from the way her body answered him. Every circle drew a sound out of her, every press made her thighs tremble around his hand. The air in the room smelled like her, like wine and woman and heat.
She turned her face into his neck and bit him, gently at first, then harder, and her breath came in hot, ragged bursts against his skin.
“Peter,” she said, the name muffled against his throat. “Oh God, Peter, I’m going to—”
Her whole body seized and exploded. She cried out, her hips jerking against his hand, and he felt the slick pulse of her around his fingers. It went on for a long moment, her shaking and clinging to him, until finally she sagged against his chest, breathing hard.
For a second neither of them moved. His hand was still between her legs, wet to the wrist, and hers was still knotted in his hair.
Then she lifted her head and looked at him, and her eyes were wet.
“We’re not finished,” she said quietly. “Not even close.”