Of Mothers & Sons
You know that something is wrong when your once wonderful child starts talking to you. Now it is common knowledge that parents and children don’t communicate with each other and either sulk or scream when faced with even the idea of trying. So it’s understandable that I was unconcerned when my spittle spitting baby grew up to be a screaming, tense and rather rude young man. In fact, to tell the truth, I was over the moon about it. The more he and I shouted, screamed and generally shook the rafters, the more I was convinced I had fulfilled my role of being a good mother. My friends praised me, my husband blamed me, my mother-in-law and I hated each other, what more did I want? Nothing.
This changed however and I was suddenly and cruelly reduced to the wreck (social and personal) that I am now. It happened on an absolutely beautiful day, the kind that made my heart sing. The sky was grey with impending rain, the leaves on every bush within sight had been ripped off by the harsh wind wiping round the house and I couldn’t read the temperature on the thermometer. By mid afternoon I had managed to not do the housework, except for my son’s room, to burn the dinner apart from the brussel sprouts and to singe a hole in my husband’s favourite shirt. My son arrived as usual at around lunch time, slammed the door louder than ever and went upstairs. Following my usual pattern I gave him five minutes to lock the door and then headed after him.
“Hunny, lunch is on the table. You should come and eat it.”
And then instead of telling me to fuck off and bury myself in a heap of manure he simply opened the door smiled at me said something along the lines of “Sure thing Mum.” and skipped down-stairs.
This state of affairs continued all day and left me a quivering wreck by the time my husband got home. My hands were shaking and I could feel cold sweat running up and down my shoulder-blades. Thoughts were racing through my head in a whirl of confusion, so when my husband arrived and announced he was divorcing me and went off to pack his bags my only response was:
“Ok dear.”
That was yesterday and as you have probably guessed, things have been getting worse. My son, if I can still call him that, is over the moon about his father moving out, my husband has decided on his very own to give me half of everything (which is more than generous considering the fact that I haven’t worked since I married him) and my mother-in-law phoned, to bury the hatchet. My life is in ruins. I have no son, I cannot complain about my shit of a husband going off and leaving me with nothing and I cannot phone my mother-in-law to pick a fight, all things I really regret the absence of.
To clear my mind of all of this I decided this morning that I would clean the house. Five hours later, I re-discovered asthma and literally threw in the towel and called a cleaning agency. I then occupied myself by watching a sickeningly cheerful lady go about the house dusting, cleaning, moping, sweeping and several other things I cannot even put a name to. I finally decided my life was in serious need of re-structuring.
So I called my best friend, totally confident in the knowledge that she would tell me how I was to organise my life, probably by using pink and pastel tones. I was not however, going to find any kind of sympathy or advice from that front; I found out that my friend was the one my husband was leaving me for. This of course meant she couldn’t in all good conscience give me advice. I disagreed with her, after all she didn’t take anything I was really attached to, but she didn’t seem to think I had a very good point.
My only triumph of the day was I did manage to cook absolutely fabulous pancakes. A great culinary feat, well, for me. After this minor peak in a ghastly day things went along the way they had started. My son arrived and announced that he had applied at a university only a few miles away so he could stay and comfort me during the five years of his degree. Obviously he thought I would still be grieving over the loss of his father. I tried to convince him otherwise, but he would have none of it, he was going to stay and take care of his poor fragile mummy.
All this from a boy who two days ago, couldn’t look at me or speak to me in any kind of civil tone, a boy who constantly informed me he couldn’t wait to go to university to get away from me.
I was shattered, where had my darling little boy gone? Was my divorce from his father so terrible a shock that it had wrought such change? What was I to do?
I started feeling really sorry for myself, so giving in to my more piggish instincts, I holed myself up in my room with what looked like a bucket load of chocolate and some rather good vampire movies. My aspiration to become a fat bloodsucking hermit didn’t last all that long as come dinner time my door burst open letting in light (no, no, ahhhh!) and in popped my son carrying a tray. I didn’t notice as I was still looking for my sunglasses. Finally having located them, I turned my attention to my son, who was standing there patiently waiting for me to stop pissing about.
“Come now darling it’s not that bad, there you are, a nice proper dinner.”
In a kind of a whirl he put the tray on my lap, whisked out all the chocolate from the room and put on a new movie. I must admit I was flabbergasted, not only did the tray contain all sorts of delicious Chinese food, but by the side of my plate there was what looked suspiciously like a splif. Next thing I knew he had cuddled up besides me, hit play, lit up, insisted I take a long drag, had picked up the chop sticks, the only chop sticks and had started to feed me. I must admit that the rest sort of went by in a very pleasant blur. I seem to remember giggling a lot and leaning into a surprisingly hard chest while nibbling on what tasted like the best food I had ever had.
I woke up this morning with him rapped round me like a blanket and it was so relaxing to be just pinned to the bed, if you like forced to sleep in, that that’s exactly what I did. I went back to sleep. I woke up later on, alone and in an incredibly good mood.
I didn’t even stop humming when I went into the kitchen and found a hurricane of cooking had left what seemed like a reproduction of Mount Everest in pots and pans. I didn’t know I had so many of them. However I felt totally up to the task and just went about tidying the place up. It took me three hours to reach my final pot and just as I rinsed it off and placed it on the rack someone grabbed me from behind, pinned me to the sink and put his hand over my mouth. I was so scared I could feel my legs turn to jelly.
“I’ve got a gun, so don’t make a sound when I take my hand from your mouth.” With that he drew the blinds to the kitchen window, opened it and waved to my neighbour Mrs. Smith.
“Hello Ben dear, Mrs. Pierson, fine day today!”
“Ben what are you doing? You nearly scarred me witless. Now let me go, the joke’s over.”
“Hello to you too Mrs. Smith, how’s Albert? Sorry Mum, no joke. Now be a good girl and smile at Mrs. Smith, don’t want the neighbours knowing your being fucked by your son, now do we?”
“Ben, Ben, what are you doing? Ben! Get your hands out of my skirt!”
I couldn’t believe this was really happening, I struggled against him but all I managed to do was wedge myself harder against the sink with his hard cock pressing into my but and his fingers inching their way up my skirt.
“Oh, he’s fine dears, his arthritis is just playing up a bit is all. A couple of day’s and I’m sure he’ll be fine. Why Mary dear, are you all right? You look a bit flushed.”
I watched in terror as she approached, horrified, just knowing she somehow possessed x-ray vision and could see straight through the wall, the sink, my skirt, to Ben’s fingers slowly stroking up and down my panty crotch. My damp panty crotch.
“Oh, um, you k-know the weather, um, changes so uh radically.”
“It’s just the season deary, it’ll soon pass, now you young rascal you better take care of your mother through this difficult time of hers, so how are you coping dear, still in shock?”
I just gaped at her, how was it she knew about my split with my husband? What, was it impossible to sneeze in this neighbourhood without people knowing in advance? Was it posted on my forehead? Been left, been dumped, no good, please send condolences to this address?
“Oh, I intend to take special care of her from now on Mrs. Smith, don’t you worry.”
Ben’s husky voice hissed passed my ears sending my nerves on fire with desire, oh God this was wrong, not as if I could do anything about it, with her standing right there. I could just imagine the scenario. I would start screaming, oh you dirty boy, how dare you, I’m your mother and such like things. Mrs Smith’s eyes would bulge and this greedy look would come over her face. She would suck everything in and then, quite sure that I had pounded my darling son senseless and then fainted, she would rush over to all her neighbours. By the end of the day I would be a paedophile indulging my sick need by molesting my son from an early age. I don’t know how far back they would take it, toddler, baby, fetus? Who knows. Anyway, Ben, well Ben would be the poor unnatural result of my… illness. We would both be shunned like lepers by mid afternoon the next day. Not a thought I relished. My mind went blank as his fingers slipped my thong aside and entered my dripping slit, first one finger, then two, his thumb gently passing over my tingling clit.
“Oh God!”
“What was that Mary dear?”
“I said oh my Gosh, it really is rather hot today, don’t you think?”
“Mildly dear, just splash some water on your face, I’m sure you’ll feel better, always worked for me. You know Albert always says on a hot day one should always…”
As I bent down to turn the tap on Ben let go, relief washed through me, making my knees week as I lent in to sprinkle water on my face. Certainly the little incident would never be referred to, I would never have to answer for my sopping pussy and the day was saved. I sagged against the counter and thanked my lucky stars.
“You really don’t look well dear, maybe you should go and lie down. You know I’ve heard of this, I do believe it’s called delayed reaction.”
“Maybe, you know I do believe I feel quite fatigued.”
As I got ready to make an elegant exit, I felt his hands grab my ass, my whole body froze and my mind went into shock. No, this could not be happening, not to me. But his fingers spreading my cheeks apart and tracing my thong belied me. Slowly he slid it down my legs, letting it drop soundlessly to the floor. I had never felt so naked in my life. No barrier separated my aching flesh from his hands. I felt completely at his mercy.
“So Ben dear, how are you getting along with the whole situation?”
“As well as can be expected, Mrs Smith. Thank you for your concern.”
My buttocks clenched as I felt his throbbing flesh slide between my legs, part of me couldn’t help thinking about how large he seemed. His, cock, was soooo thick that my inner muscles clenched in anticipation of a good fuck. A luxury I hadn’t indulged in for two years.
“Oh it’s nothing, neighbours should always look out for one another…”
His hands spread my legs further and everything seemed to switch to slow motion. His hard fuck-tool entering me, Mrs Smith’s lips opening and closing, my first orgasm hitting me full force as he plunged into my depths.
“Ahhhhhhh, Oh dear Lord!!!”
I slumped back into Ben’s arms, closed my eyes and just concentrated on the heavenly feel of him inside me, he was so big and felt almost unbearably good. So much so, that all resistance fled my mind. Mrs Smith, my neighbours, my reputation, faded into the back ground. All I cared about now was getting fucked. Fast and hard, very hard.
“Oh dear, I do say Ben, you’re poor mother is looking quite ill. I tell you what, why don’t you take her to bed and I’ll call the doctor. He’s very good you know, always helps me through my little depressions, I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Thank you Mrs Smith, you do that.”
Reaching over my shoulder he casually closed the window and let down the blinds. In doing so, he pushed me so far over that I found myself clutching at the tap for support. His large hand grasped my buttocks while the other, well it, it snaked between my legs till his thumb came into contact with my clit. It was like an electric jolt, my whole body came alight. Desire washed through me in waves making me buck up against him in delight.
“That’s it, just like that, let yourself go…”
He strummed my little numb once more and started to move. First it was slow, so slow I trembled in frustration, my head tossing from side to side as I tried to make him move faster. He held me down firmly, chuckling in triumph at my loss of control. I had had enough.