NOTE: this chapter does not contain incest, although it's mentioned in the beginning.
*****
I've lived more than 18 years. During them, I've read my share of raunchy stories. I don't believe any of them, especially this one. I like the ones about submissive mothers and young sons who break out of their comfort zones and learn to take control.
Nobody does that, though. I mean, sure a mother is fucking her son, right now, somewhere in the real world, and maybe he pressed to do so, but no one has ever lived the insanity my mother and I created from our Yin and Yang dance. And if something similar has occurred, no one has found the intensity of joy that we have.
It started with my father and my mother's father. Both were stern men. Of the two, only my father enjoyed my mother's deep embrace. Grandpa never hugged anyone, but he could wallop my mother's backside with the lust of demons. That thin, elderly copy machine technician looked and acted like a polite breeze, in public. In private, he had gone through six wives. Most divorced him. The last died. They said 'of the vapors', but did you know that severe trauma to flesh can lead to cancer? It's rare, but mother's step-mother was given a superior chance.
I love my grandpa. He's quiet and gives me presents when he visits. He doesn't talk much to me, no lectures at least. I'm thankful. When he's around, he spends most of his attention watching my mother. In his presence, Mother acts brighter, forthright, directed, no non-sense. She doesn't show him the slightest weakness.
My father knew better. He and Grandpa were discussing the house computer network that day. "I'd rather drill a hole than buy a wifi repeater. This house already had too many gadgets."
"But a cable will look terrible no matter how you string it."
Mother walked in with a pair of beers to back up the nearly empty ones Dad and Gramps sip while they chatted. She picked up the empties, turned smoothly, and tripped over something, I didn't see what, I was in the dinning room listening with one ear and playing the new tablet game Gramps had gifted. I did turn in time to see my mother collapse in slow motion with four bottles in her fingers. She managed to roll down on her side instead of smack the floor, but one glass vessel slipped free and crashed upon perfectly maintained hardwood.
"Lisa, you clumsy fool!" Grandpa burst and leaped to his feet."
"Anthony, this is my house." Father spoke calmly.
Grandpa Tony looked left and right, at my mother and my father. He took a breath and let it out.
"I'm driving home now." He said simply. He left then.
"Lisa, did your father trip you on purpose?"
"No, Ed, he didn't." She picked her self up and wiped up the broken bottle. Around her father, she kept a hand towel tucked in her skirt. He liked to spill things.
"Let's talk in the master." Father called their bedroom, the master." He walked out of the living room and down the hall, expecting his wife to follow.
She threw the glass pieces into the trash, dropped the towel in the sink, and still managed to keep three paces behind her husband.
"Walter, don't touch that towel. I'll wash the shards out of it when your father's finished with me."
They entered their bedroom and locked the door. Except for the small accident, it was a typical day in the Nelson family. Except I couldn't resist. I crept down the carpeted hall with all the stealth I had learned from computer games. Putting my ear to the door opened a new world to me.
"Bite the gag harder, wench!" If our boy hears one peep out of you, I'll drive him to a whore house, pay the madam to keep him for the night, and manhandle you until noon."
Father paused. "This is for letting your father get the better of you."
I didn't hear anything.
"This is for soiling the living room."
Was that the crack of electricity?
"This is for acting like a fool!" Father whispered intensely.
Their bed's posts squealed over the hardwood in that room, as if a body shifted upon it suddenly and hard.
"Do you need to breath?"
Another, longer pause.
"Bite." Father counted to five. "This is for lying to me."
I didn't want to hear anything. I slunk back as he said it. I'd been conditioned to respect the privacy of that room with the threat of having my groin cut to match a Ken doll.
The lights in the house dimmed for two of my heartbeats.
Mother greeted me thirty minutes later. "Is that game any good?" Her skin was flush red.
"Yeah, Mom, kinda." I felt sweat ooze out of my forehead. My armpits must have smelled like a sewer. I feared the next second. Father would step in and accuse me of listening.
She went to the sink. She took the towel outside and shook it in the alley. Then she put it in the washing machine, the only item in it. I heard it rev up. That's when Father reappeared from the hall.
"I'm going to the electronics store."
Dad would have allowed me to join him. I thought about it. Electronics were my favorite toys. Dad was a giving man, often letting me pick out something, as long as it showed respect for his pocketbook.
"I want to beat Grandpa's score on the leader board."
It was the first time I saw my father grin. "I've been trying since the day I met your mother." He exited.
"Mom?"
"Don't ask me. Your father's probably just in a good mood."
It took longer than I imagined. It was several years before I won the top slot from Grandpa. But that day started it. That was the first time I felt desire for my mother.
The second time was a long time coming. Well before then, I decided to have a girlfriend, like a policeman decides to have a donut.
I stood in the schoolyard and watched. Something inside me knew how to pick the right girl. It wasn't about tall or short, fat or skinny, light skin or dark skin, a pretty face or a not ugly face. It had to do with posture. A weak person has terrible posture. A strong person has a posture not worth noting. I was looking for good posture carefully maintained. I was looking for the girl who would eventually put on makeup to go to 7/11. I wanted a girl with chutzpa but lacking strong confidence. Cheryl would be my girl.
I saw her walk up to a boy playing with a baseball bat. She told him to find another girl. "If you ever talk to Larissa outside of class, I'll let her father know who gave her that black eye."
The boy lifted his bat angrily, but Cheryl only smiled and walked away. I didn't see her face after she turned, but her posture slipped for just a second and then it was perfect. I got a hard on watching that.
"Hello, Cheryl."
"Do I know you?"
"We had a class together last year. I'm Walter Nelson."
"What do you want?"
"Something I'm going to have to earn from you."
She tipped one step back before stepping closer. She said in my face, "I have no time for little boys with riddles."
I attempted to look into her soul. "I'll show you how big I can be."
"Creep." She stepped past me and didn't look back.
Days of defeat followed. I turned out to be a stalker, not what I would someday call being a dom.
"Creep!" Cheryl shouted when I told her I'd walk her home.
"Creep!" Cheryl screamed when I simply walked up to her, staring into her eyes.
I needed experience.
"Mother, how did you and Father meet?"
She coughed. "Well, that was years before you were born."
"How old were you?"
"Not old enough, but I had plenty of experience."
"You dated?"
"Not exactly. Your father discovered my situation and found a place for himself in it."
"Um, you're not going into details. What the father does, so could the son."
"No time, Walter. I'm busy with my work." She turned her attention to source code from another developer.
"Yes, but you like being interrupted when your code is compiling."
"Walter, you have my genes as well as your father's. You'll never be like him."
Her compiler finished. It hadn't found any flaws in her code.
A day later, I tried pressing reset. "Cheryl, please accept my apology. I've acted very foolishly, creepily even."
For a second, light danced in her eyes.
"Fine. Whatever."
I left before she could. I had nothing to work with, except searching something.
"Larissa, I'll do your homework, if you will tell me what you like best about Cheryl." I had to ask several baseball boys before I found the one Larissa dumped. I found her sitting in the library, texting on her phone. Her back was slumped crookedly in the chair.
"I heard you were creeping her out. No way!"
"That's in the past. Ask her."
Her eyes shifted away. "Oh. What's your name?"
"Walter."
"I don't need your help with my homework, but you should know that Cheryl is the best friend a person could have."
"You spend a lot of time together?"
"I guess."
"What do you like to do?"
"I like shopping at the mall."
"Do you buy lots of clothes?"
"I can't. I don't get much allowance."
"But Cheryl can? Does she have a part time job?"
"Cheryl doesn't buy clothes, not many I mean. She buy's toys for her nieces and nephews."
I finally got my break.
"Yeah, she works at car dealership, washing cars."
"Your clothes look very nice." I smiled.
"Um, thanks." She hunched down slightly more.
"Thank you, Larissa. Have a nice day." I turned.
"Don't you want to know which dealership?"
"I'm not a stalker." I strode away.
The next time the weather turned stormy, I asked Cheryl if her employer was looking for extra help.
Cheryl wasn't the only girl working in the service department. One very sexy, divorced woman cussed right alongside her fellow mechanics. The elderly woman had been working there for decades, handling customers with their automotive problems.
Our boss seemed to treat Cheryl decently. She might have had him wrapped around her finger, but it wasn't visible. I noticed that I had to wash the muddy, jacked up 4 wheel drives. I was taller than Cheryl and more suspicious. That didn't really matter much. I worked my butt off.
The money was nice, but the first time Cheryl opened herself up to me proved more valuable.
"Can you believe that? Gina was shut in the tool bank for ten minutes with Jake."
"Is that important?"
"Just what do you think they did in there?"
"Fuck around, probably. But probably not fucking."
She took a minute to parse my retort, or she was struck speechless.
"Gee, you really are a creep."
"And just what would you do in there, with me, for ten minutes?"
Did I see her cheeks redden slightly?
"It too bad for you, that you'll never find out."
"That's not what's important."
"Okay, big guy, what would be important?"
"If Gina actually felt something for Jake."
"Well, she doesn't. She's just another slut." Cheryl had never shown her inner bitterness to me.
I let the conversation go. There were still cars to wash that day.
"Mom, what's a slut?"
"Are you really asking that? You must have heard that word for years, at school or-" Mom stopped mid-sentence. "Did something happen at your job?"
"Nothing that doesn't happen every now and then, there."
"Spill it, Walter. Don't start with the mystery theater."
"Yeah, well Cheryl told me the woman mechanic was a slut for being alone with a guy at work."
"Walter, we taught you sexual matters are private. Talking about them makes you look silly."
"I know. But I wasn't asking if that woman is a slut. I want to know what Cheryl meant by it."
"That's known as slut shaming. It has to do with upper class people demeaning lower class people. And here I was thinking that your friend had, until now, sounded like a decent sort."
