Betty wiped the corners of her eyes again, then raised one hand to find the shower switch behind her head with practiced ease.
The water stopped, and the room fell silent except for Michael’s heavy breathing and the uneven gasps from his exertions.
After caressing Michael’s stomach, Betty looked up at him enjoying the softness of her breasts with his eyes closed.
Her hand then moved downward, gliding over his lower abdomen and through the dense, dark red pubic hair, until she slowly grasped his penis.
Although her hand trembled and retracted at first touch, she steadied and firmly held it on her second attempt, beginning to gently knead it.
Michael’s breathing changed immediately...
Betty’s hands were soft and tender, and being in the shower, they were covered with droplets of water.
Although the feel of her hand was far from that of a vagina, when her warm hand enveloped Michael’s penis, he instinctively began thrusting his hips back and forth.
This movement was different from before; it was faster and with greater amplitude, as if he was imagining Betty’s palm as a vagina, thrusting in and out.
Betty felt Michael’s thrusting and her expression grew complex—there was relief, a hint of joy, but more so sadness and guilt.
The guilt encompassed both Michael and me.
Michael’s thrusting didn’t make Betty withdraw her hand; instead, she tried to keep it steady to facilitate his movements, turning her action into a manual stimulation where only Michael moved.
Initially, this felt pleasurable, but as time passed, the lack of lubrication made his penis dry and painful.
After all, Betty’s palm couldn’t secrete the lubricating fluid like a vagina.
Sure enough, after a minute or two, Michael’s movements slowed, and he grimaced, breathing heavily, clearly in discomfort, while his glans turned red from the dry friction.
Realizing what was happening as she felt the dryness in her palm, Betty understood that continuing this way was not pleasure but torture.
Feeling Michael stop, she sighed, a flicker of disappointment crossing her eyes.
Initially, when Michael was thrusting in her palm, Betty felt a moment of relief, perhaps hoping that if Michael naively mistook her hand for a vagina and ejaculated, she could fulfill her role without compromising herself.
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But now, she realized that was just wishful thinking.
Yet, Betty didn’t give up hope.
She discreetly used her other hand to gather some lubrication from her own vagina, then applied it to her palm and Michael’s glans.
This undoubtedly increased the lubrication, reducing the dryness on Michael’s penis.
But as she was focused on this task, she didn’t notice that Michael had opened his eyes and was watching her actions.
Now more lucid, at least partially, the recent thrusting had triggered some memory in him.
Initially, Michael had treated Betty almost like a stranger, his intimacy more about primal male-to-female interaction.
But now, he seemed to recognize Betty, perhaps feeling that the woman before him was someone significant, someone he deeply cared about.
After preparing everything, Betty waited for Michael to resume thrusting.
She waited with her head down, but Michael remained still.
Perhaps he needed a prompt, Betty thought, and began to gently knead and stroke him again.
His foreskin rubbed against his glans and coronal ridge, but despite Betty’s long efforts, Michael made no move.
Betty finally looked up, only to be taken aback by the change in Michael’s gaze.
His eyes, previously clouded and confused, now shone brighter, with a spark of lucidity, though some confusion still lingered.
"Michael, do you remember me? I’m your mom... do you recognize me?" Betty, disregarding everything else, quickly released Michael’s penis and cupped his face, urgently asking him.
Michael didn’t respond immediately but continued to gaze at Betty.
Although confusion lingered in his eyes, a flicker of recognition seemed to emerge, yet he still couldn’t grasp it fully.
After a moment of eye contact, Michael lowered his gaze to Betty’s breasts, then down to her abdomen, and further to her pubic area covered with hair, and finally to her slender legs and perfectly rounded, pale feet.
Everything was so familiar to him...
Michael scanned Betty’s naked body up and down, and although Betty felt a hint of shyness, she had been seen by Michael many times before, so she managed to suppress it.
Her greater feeling was anticipation, hoping that Michael could return to his normal self...
Suddenly, Betty exclaimed in surprise as Michael, after a moment of contemplation, pulled her tightly into his arms and held her close.
Betty’s chin rested on Michael’s shoulder, and his on hers, as Michael enveloped her tightly in his arms, his cheeks rubbing against her shoulder and hair in the most affectionate manner.
Betty wasn’t sure to what extent Michael had recovered, but she knew what this behavior meant.
Perhaps in the past, if Michael had spoken words of affection, Betty might have thought he was just spouting nonsense.
What does a child know about love, even if Betty really was his "first love"?
There’s a saying: first loves don’t truly understand love.
So, originally, Betty viewed Michael’s unrealistic ideas as mere child’s play and wishful thinking.
But now, Michael’s departure from home, his return in a traumatized state, and his current deep embrace and affection were undeniably genuine.
Feeling all this, Betty was deeply moved, yet also troubled.
She was comforted that Michael truly loved her, a love that transcended the typical mother-son relationship.
Any mother would be pleased to receive more love from her son, but Betty was also distressed because Michael’s love had transformed in nature.
She was a married woman; she couldn’t marry her own son.
If she allowed this to continue, it would only harm him for life.
For any mother, this was a difficult dilemma to face.
Betty let Michael hold her as he began to caress her smooth back.
As they stood there, the water droplets on their bodies slowly slid down, reflecting the light above and making their bodies appear translucent.
The mother and son stood naked, embracing each other.
As Michael’s caresses continued, his breathing grew more rapid, his breath stirring Betty’s hair by her ear.
Feeling Michael’s hot breath, Betty’s eyes grew more dazed, her feelings of guilt and affection for Michael slowly transforming.
The fact that Betty had earlier used her own vaginal fluid to aid the lubrication of her hand indicated that she had already been aroused during the process.
Despite her previous rejections and resistance to Michael’s penetrations, the pleasure and delight of those moments had deeply embedded themselves in Betty’s mind.
The robust size, iron-like hardness, enduring thrusts, and substantial ejaculate were all experiences Betty had never encountered before.
Men show their desire openly, but women’s feelings are often hidden, their body’s reactions being the most truthful indicators.
Recalling the night Michael first forcefully penetrated and ejaculated inside her, Betty’s body had reacted intensely, her firm mind sometimes unable to control her sensitive body.
With another exclamation from Betty, Michael suddenly leaned forward, pushing her body until her back was pressed against the smooth wall.
Before her back touched the wall, Michael’s hands cushioned the impact, preventing any harm to Betty.
As Betty stepped back, though it was a short distance, her legs moved apart just as Michael’s erect penis perfectly positioned itself between her thighs.
Instinctively, Betty tried to close her legs, but found them trapping Michael’s hot shaft instead.
With a soft moan, feeling the heat at the root of her thighs and the touch of his shaft against her itching labia, Betty let out a sticky, enticing murmur.