The Love Left Behind

This is a collaboration – my partner in crime preferring to remain in the shadows. This is primarily her fantasy with some additions and restructuring by me. I think it's a lovely story and I hope you like it as well. Let us know what you think. Enjoy!

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From the journal of Richard Hamilton:

Today I had what many would consider an epiphany — a moment of clarity and understanding of the universe around me that I think in the end will be my greatest legacy…my greatest gift to the two people I love the most — my wife and my son.

I was taking the sun today outside by the pool. It was a pretty day and I felt better than most days and I enjoyed watching my wife, Claire and our son, Johnny swimming and cutting up in the pool. Even though my days are numbered, I thank God for each and every day that I've been blessed to be with Claire. I sometimes wonder how I ever became so lucky to have such a beautiful woman as my wife.

I know what Claire would say, She'd roll her eyes and said, "Because you knocked me up, you dirty old man!" That's true — it had been a bit of a scandal…she was working in my office as a receptionist, fresh out of high school and barely eighteen and so damned sexy and even though I was ten years her senior, I pursued her, landed her in bed and got her pregnant. We loved each other, so that didn't matter much, even though her parents weren't all that happy about it, but we got married while she was barely showing and we've had a bit over eighteen years of sheer happiness.

Still as I watched her climb from the pool, I'm still amazed that I'm married to such a gorgeous creature. Wearing only a tiny, red bikini, her sexy body was almost completely on display — tall, with long blonde hair and green eyes, Claire is blessed with huge breasts that seem even bigger when contrasted with her slender waist. Her motherly and toned hips help accentuate her delicious figure…she is a sex goddess brought to life. Even from across the pool, her breasts drew the eye and her nipples, thick and hard, stood out against the wet material of her bikini top.

She said something to our son and I turned my attention to him and again felt blessed. Johnny is a wonderful young man and I'm proud to be his father. Bright and athletic, he's already breaking school girls' hearts with a strong, muscular body — I was never as good looking as he is — try as I might, I never had six-pack abs like he does. Claire refers to his athletic body as ripped.

As Claire turned to reach down for something near her pool towel, she showed off her luscious ass cheeks, the thong of her bikini bottom disappearing up the crack of her ass, leaving only the small covering stretched across her mound. I felt a twitch in my own shorts as her sexy body called to me. Then I glanced at my son and smiled as I see him staring at his mother too — eyes almost gleaming with lust and appreciation for Claire's sexy shape. As she rose up and walked around to the deepest end of the pool, Johnny's eyes followed her swaying ass and jiggling breasts and a glance at my son's lap as he sat on the edge of the pool, legs dangling into the water, I could see more than a hint that he was responding physically to her. My cock got a little harder as I comprehended that my son had an erection over his own mother.

Claire dove into the pool and Johnny was quick to follow. Quickly, they came together, horsing around, grabbing at each other, trying to dunk each other's head. No doubt, my son was copping a few not so innocent feels of his mother's lush body and as she squealed with laughter, I wonder if she noticed the bulge in his trunks or if she felt it against her as they played and wrestled in the water. I shivered with excitement and think back to my own mother and my own fantasies.

The summers of my youth were spent on the lake on an old ratty houseboat my dad bought at a police auction. Mom was a school teacher and had most of two months free as did I while Dad worked as supervisor of a construction firm — mostly out of town for weeks at a time. During summer, Mom and I would virtually live on the houseboat, Dad joining us most weekends.

Other than the years I've had with Claire, it was the best time of my life. For days at a time, Mom and I would be anchored in some small cove of the lake, spending our time swimming, fishing, reading and in general, taking it easy. In the warm humid weather, clothing was always at a minimum — me going mostly in swim trunks or jean cutoffs, rarely wearing a shirt. Mom liked jean cutoffs and halter tops — usually in the evenings or if we were going to the docks for groceries, but when we were out alone, Mom was rarely dressed in more than a bikini — spending a lot of time working on her tan or just lounging about.

Oh yeah, I had it good…I have what seems like years of erotic memories of Mom — her short, full figured body a dark tan — 36D breasts looking huge on a woman who only stood an even five feet tall, stretched out on the deck of our houseboat, letting the sun soak into her, removing her top to tan those heavy beauties while I was banished below deck — even though we both knew I would constantly be peeking at her.

Yes, Mom knew she had a special admirer and was a constant flirt with me, being casual and even lewd sometimes in how she showed off her body to me, knowing it made me almost crazy with lust. She never seemed to mind being my number one masturbatory fantasy and had to know I was jacking off several times a day over her lovely body, often into her soiled panties and bikini bottoms.

At night, with no television, we'd listen to the radio and sometimes dance — fast dances with which I'd get an exciting show of Mom's huge tits bouncing about — sometimes bouncing right out of her tops. I would laugh and goggle at her breasts while she just giggled and scooped them back into the halter or bikini top. Other times, we dance cheek to cheek to slow tunes, our both half naked bodies pressed together, me aware of Mom's hard nipples poking through her top against my usually shirtless chest and Mom aware of my swollen erection pressing insistently against her stomach.

I'd like to say that Mom and I yielded to our urges, but in truth, it never happened. We were close — probably more intimate than most married couples, but nothing beyond some less than innocent touching occurred. I lost Mom and Dad to a car accident when I was twenty-one and over the years since, I've come to the conclusion that Mom was waiting on me to make the first move — to let me make the truly momentous decision that we'd be lovers. I confess that it feels me with regret that I never knew the wonder of making love to my mother.

Somewhere along the line as I recalled those wonderful days, I slipped off into sleep — something I do more and more as the tumor progresses and I suddenly am back on that old houseboat, dancing slowly with Mom, her arms around my neck and her breasts pressed against my chest, her dark brown eyes staring soulfully up at mine. The intensity of the dream is almost overwhelming. I am aware of my erect penis — trapped inside my swim trunks and pressing against Mom's bare stomach and so hard, it hurts. Mom is wearing a skimpy string bikini, its white fabric standing out so clearly in contrast to Mom's dark skin.

"Oh, Mom," I whisper. "It's been so long!" In the dream I seem to be young again, but with a lifetime of memories and regret.

Mom smiles up at me, one hand moving to toy with my now again long hair. "I've missed you too, son." She wriggles against me a little, making it clear that she feels and likes my cock hard against her. "I've missed this thing too."

Mom stands up on tip-toe and gives me a gentle kiss on the mouth, her tongue brushing lewdly over my lips. "Soon, we'll back together for all time and maybe, Richard, this time you won't be so afraid to realize your fantasies." Mom grinds herself against me again.

I moan with delight as I comprehend what she's saying and then I moan again — this time in dismay, as I hear the true ramifications of what she's saying. "You mean…Mom, I'm going to…"

Mom gives me a sad little smile and replies, "Yes, son. The tumor is almost big enough to kill you now…but don't be sad. You'll be coming back to me."

I feel strangely unafraid hearing my mother predicting my coming death and I say, "So, is this heaven?"

Mom gives me a smile full of secret knowledge and promise. "Heaven is where you go when you were the happiest. When the time comes, I'll be here waiting for you and we can be what we were both too timid to be in the last life." Mom raises up on her toes to kiss me again — this time, offering me her tongue and kissing me as she would a lover.

"I can hardly wait, Mom…if only…" I left the rest unsaid, torn between the possibility of becoming Mom's lover and the certain eventuality of leaving my beloved Claire and my son behind."

Mom nodded and said, "I know, it's painful, but Claire and Johnny will still have each other. They are so close already…as close as you and I were all those years ago." Mom looked up at me and with eyes full of mischief said, "And they could be even happier if maybe, maybe they had a little push."

I felt my mouth open in surprise and said, "You mean…"

Mom kissed me one more time and then as my dream world began to gray out, she said, "Imagine what might have happened if we'd had a little encouragement…"

Suddenly I was awake — feeling hot, sweaty and very horny — my cock fully erect in my shorts. I looked around the back yard — spotting Johnny and Claire sitting next to each other on the far edge of the pool, both slightly turned to face each other — Claire grinning and laughing at something our son was saying, reaching out to flick away some bug on his shoulder, her fingers slightly caressing his tanned and muscular arm, seeming oblivious to Johnny's stares at her mostly exposed breasts.

For a long moment I watched my son and wife and recognized from their postures, their hesitant gestures and brief contacts — skin brushing skin, I recognized them from my own long ago days with my mother. It was at the moment that I had my epiphany. My affairs were all in order — Claire and Johnny would be fine after my death, financially, but I suddenly comprehended that I had something even more important I could leave them…

#

I watched as my son climbed to his feet, awkwardly trying to face away from me in an attempt to hide the obvious bulge in his swim trunks. I felt a flush spread over my face and chest as I made no attempt to look away — instead, studying his erection as best I could — trying to envision its size. Johnny's face was bright red as well it should have been after constantly staring at my breasts and butt all afternoon long and I very much doubt some of those accidental touches of his hands were really accidental.

Part of me is shocked and ashamed that I am actually aroused by my son's frank and hungry looks. And to be honest, that's just the tip of the iceberg. I feel a delicious, yet shameful shiver course through me every time I close my eyes and recall finding a fresh, still warm pool of semen in my black French cut bikini panties when I went to do a load of laundry just a few days ago and literally going to my knees as I was suddenly so turned on, I had to plunge my fingers into my suddenly hot and wet pussy and masturbate on the spot, cumming with one hand while the other slipped in and through his thick load of sperm.

I know that for a while now, Johnny had been looking at me differently — that when his friends were over, their favorite activity was hanging out eyeing me. I could have dressed like an old Amish woman and I don't think it would've mattered. Not much I can do to disguise these huge tits of mine — I'm just proud that these huge DD breasts are still pretty firm at the age of thirty-six. I don't wave them in the boys' faces, but I'm not really conservative either — favoring low cut sweaters that fit tightly and show off my best features. Same with my ass — it's not tiny, but is a motherly, heart shaped butt — still firm if a bit full. It excited me that my son was staring at me like any other man…maybe even more so because was my son. It scared me too. Sometimes the looks he gives me are those of a man starving and about to take what he wants no matter the consequences.

Looking up, I saw Johnny talking to his father — Richard smiling and Johnny with a bit of a confused look on his face. My heart ached when I thought that my beloved husband won't be here much longer, but the anger and frustration are behind me now…mostly, leaving this heartache and acceptance. For four years, we've battled his brain tumor — halting its progress for a while, but he's been given his final prognosis. Barring spontaneous remission, sometime in the next few months, it will grow and destroy a key blood vessel in Richard's brain, triggering a stroke or embolism that will be fatal. It's been no real consolation that this thing isn't causing any direct pain or suffering — Richard is mostly normal, only tiring more quickly than he used to.

Richard and our son turned and looked at me and for a moment, I sensed that both were giving me a lusty once over. It made my nipples stiffen in delight and I wondered what Richard was saying while Johnny nodded in agreement. I waved and lifted myself onto my feet, wondering what their reaction was to see my huge breasts hanging down, threatening to snap the strings of my bikini top. As I walked towards them, Johnny gave me a wave and then beat a retreat through the patio door. It might have been my imagination, but I thought there was still a bulge in his swim trunks.

Richard scooted over on the oversize lounger — its strong redwood capable of supporting a small town atop its cushions. "Now what were you two chattering on about?" I asked my husband as I curled up into him — his sun baked skin feeling warm against mine. While not as ripped as our son and fighting the middle-aged paunch, Richard was still a good looking man.

"Well…" Richard began, his voice full of amusement, "Your son was telling me how all his friends are in love with his mother."

"Omigod!" I groaned, burying my face against his arm. "He didn't." I tried to sound embarrassed, but I was secretly more than pleased and I felt the heat between my legs increase a hundred fold.

Richard laughed and replied, "I told him that it was okay, I mean, who wouldn't be struck by your mom's beauty and her mature, voluptuous body. It isn't every day that you see such lovely wide hips and massive breasts on a woman with a slender waist and a tight stomach."

I punched my husband playfully on the chest and said, "Richard, you didn't talk like that to our son!"

Richard grinned and leaned over and kissed me on the lips. "Sure I did, Claire. You're a gorgeous woman — even your son appreciates that and besides — you're so full of life and love, who wouldn't feel happy and grateful just to spend time with you?"

I felt a fresh wave of love for my man and also a little excited…my husband and my son talking about me! Feeling a bit like teasing him, I replied, "So what…you two were both checking me out?"

"You damn betcha, honey. Wearing that sinful little bikini on a body like yours, any man would have to check you out, even if are his mom. Johnny's not blind — he knows his mom is the hottest, sexiest woman in town."

I felt my face burning as I suddenly wondered, did Richard notice Johnny checking me out earlier. Did he, God forbid, notice Johnny's not so accidental groping my tits while we were in the water? Lamely, I tried to deflect Richard's words. "Oh, that's just sick, honey! I'm Johnny's mom — he doesn't notice me like that!"

Richard laughed and said, "Sure he does — he's a man now. It's not sick, it's normal — I'd be worried if he didn't notice how sexy his big titty Mom was. It's just normal for a boy." He paused, glancing off towards the pool where Johnny and I had been cavorting. "All boys think about their mother like that at one point or another," he said in a quieter voice.

I shivered and climbed out of the lounger. I held out my hand and said, "And maybe husbands think about their wives too, huh?"

Richard was still staring off at the pool blankly and said, "Do you think Johnny's up to being the man of the house once I'm gone?"

I felt a splinter of pain tear through my heart. "You're not going anywhere, Richard Hamilton."

The anguish in my voice pulled Richard's attention back to me. He smiled up at me. "I plan on staying as long as I can, Claire, but there'll be a day soon when it'll be just you and Johnny. Do you think he's ready to be the man of the house?"

I bit my lower lip and shivered, wondering how my husband truly meant that question or if he knew how loaded it was. "We both know Johnny's grown up to be a fine young man."

"Do you find him handsome, Claire? I mean, from a woman's point of view, do you think our son is handsome?"

Again, I wondered what Richard was driving at…was he trying to make an accusation in a roundabout way? I reached down and took his hand and began tugging. "He's my son, you perv!" I giggled nervously. "You've really got to clean up that dirty mind of yours!" I pulled Richard to his feet and led him inside. "Let's get cleaned up and start thinking about dinner."

Hand in hand, we walked inside and headed for the stairs. Halfway up, we met Johnny coming down, looking handsome in his tight jeans and a dress shirt, still partly unbuttoned, offering a hint of his mature and muscular chest. My eyes roamed appreciatively over his body even as I felt my son's eyes on mine. I felt a wave of self-consciousness sweep over me as I suddenly felt almost naked in my tiny bikini.

I fell back behind Richard as we met to give him room to get by. Richard slapped him on the shoulder and said, "Going out, son?"

Johnny paused, causing his father to stop as well and his gaze moves back and forth between Richard and myself — quick glances at his father and more lingering ones at me, his eyes constantly drawn down to my barely concealed breasts. My nipples, already hard, pulsed excitedly, betraying at least to myself the arousal I felt at being looked at so…so frankly. "Gonna head out with the guys, Dad…just go cruising."

Richard grinned and said, "Uh huh. We know what you horn dogs are cruising for, don't we, Claire?" He turned and shot me a knowing wink.

I cast my eyes down, unable to bear both men looking at me. I felt my skin burning with the return of a sexual flush. "Try not to stay out too late, son," I murmured.

I chanced a glance up only to see Johnny staring at me with something akin to naked lust. "Sure, Mom," he replied, something almost frightening in his tone. He moved on down the steps, his hand brushing against my thigh even as his upper arm somehow brushed the edge of my breast — bare skin gently kissing the bared area of my breast spilling out of the bikini top. I stifled a moan even as he paused below me, feeling his eyes now roaming over my near naked ass cheeks.

"So what're you guys up tonight?" He asked, watching us move on up the steps. "Playing horsey?"

I gasped and turned around quickly, making my breasts inadvertently roll about wildly as I snapped, "Johnny Hamilton, shame on you!" 'Playing horsey' is an old and I had thought forgotten joke in our house from when Johnny as a five year old had burst into our bedroom one evening while Richard and I were fucking after we'd thought he'd gone to sleep. The lights were on and Richard was fucking me doggy style and suddenly there was our son looking at us with confusion for a moment and then before we could stop, he grinned with amusement and cried out, "Daddy — you're playing horsey with Mommy!"

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