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He stroked her leg gently, feeling his cock stirring as he moved his hand up and down her thigh.Almost without thinking, she put her arm round his shoulders, and he pressed himself against her. He looked up at her, and she smiled down at him.He moved his hand higher up her leg.'No, dear, you mustn't!, ' she said, although she didn't attempt to move his hand away.He looked at her pleadingly: she found it almost impossible to refuse him anything, and she relented.'Well, then — just a kiss, ' she smiled weakly, and tightened her arm round him.Their lips touched — at first, they just sat there like that, but then Jamie slowly moved his mouth on his mother's, and despite herself she felt herself beginning to respond.Their mouths opened slightly, and his tongue found hers. The kiss became more insistent — soon, he was working his mouth on hers, sometimes just pecking, then more firmly, kissing her wetly, his tongue circling hers, and she held his face with her free hand as she kissed him. I knew we weren't supposed to meet here, but the car wash, our agreed upon meeting place, was right next door. I wondered if she was as curious as I was. I wondered if she felt the same attraction to meeting me, as I did of her.We met through a posting I placed in a Web site for personal ads. I had had several responses to my posting but none of them even remotely attracted me to a face-to-face meeting. Her response was a mirror of my request, an exact form but a reversed image. I was looking for someone who wanted to share what I had to offer. She was looking for someone who wanted to share and care. But there was more. Something I could not explain just like the feeling in the pit of my stomach.I wasn't looking for sex. I was looking for intimacy, someone with whom I could share myself. I was looking for something that was missing in my life. She was married, and from what I could determine from our emails, was surviving in her own way in her own world. She was comfortable and had.
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