Joan And David Ch 02

Authors note: This is a very long chapter, and because of that I have decided to split this chapter into two and will come on it's own as chapter 2a, or combined with chapter three.

The phone rang, I glanced up from my paperwork and over to the caller display, it was only then that I realized just how late it was. Before I picked up the phone I glanced outside through my office window, the sun started to set leaving streaks of reddish-gold light through the sky. I reached out and picked the phone up and closed my eyes.

"Hello, David." I greeted, trying to be as cheerful as possible, but the documents I had to go over and check with a fine tooth comb set me in a bad mood. Jerome handed them to me fifteen minutes before I was slated to go home. That was at five, now it was eight twenty-three.

"Mom? Why are you at work still?" He asked obviously on a cell phone, the line crackled and popped and rife with blasts of static.

"You don't want me to explain." I warned, and sighed. "I guess you missed dinner before your meeting."

"Yah, but that's okay." He said. "I can make myself something when I get home."

"How long do you expect to be?" I asked thinking about pizza.

"About forty-five minutes or so." He replied.

"I'll be home before you, so I'll stop off and get a pizza." I muttered, reached up and rubbed my face. I would stop off and buy some beer as well. "Sounds good?"

"Sounds good." David said.

We said our goodbyes and hung up, I packed the documents I had been reading into my bag and left the office. I was not done, but the weekend was here and I would virtually have the house to myself, David would spend most of his weekend with Ashley and his friends.

I stopped and closed my eyes as the thick feeling of regret slowly over took me, David and Ashley saw

a lot

of each other these days, more often than before…before I pretty well forced him to masturbate in front of me. After that night, three weeks and one day ago everything changed between us, our dynamic seemed to vanish and our relationship seemed on the brink of disaster. He would not talk to me often, not even a

fraction

of how we talked before, he was always out (though he was always back home on-time for his curfew) and when he was in the house he stayed down in the basement.

For the first few days I figured it was just because the incident was odd, even to me the whole 'connection' we made was truly unhinging. Those first few days went by, neither of us spoke of the incident and seemed to go about our lives normally, we talked about this and that, he went to school and I went to work. The world had yet to turn upside down, or so it seemed. It was after those first few days that everything started to run amok, he started to stay in his room for long periods of time, and then finally decided to stay away from the house as much as he could, some of the excuses at the start were plausible and maybe held a few ounces of truth and after that the excuses became flimsy and see-through, after that there were very few excuses. He just came and went.

I broke my thoughts for a moment, long enough to call the Pizza Hut by our house to order a pizza. I picked one for myself, one for David and one that we both could enjoy. Our tastes in pizza were as similar as they were dissimilar. After that, I left the office, went down to my car parked in the office buildings parkade and went towards home.

My thoughts came back like a black tide as they washed over my conscious thought blocking everything else out , even the radio talking about some world event I currently had little care about. I thought about that night, and the truth that I did enjoy masturbating in front of my son just as much as I enjoyed watching my son masturbate in front of me. I had known he was above me for longer than I cared to admit. Now I knew I should have stopped, maybe rolled over and feigned sleep until both of us calmed down, but the exhilaration of seeing my son with his hand in his pants stroking his hard-on that

I

gave him disallowed that choice. I knew it was wrong, but in the wrongness there was a certain

rightness

about it like some kind of ultimate prize set inside the middle of a mine field. I thought we skirted all of the mine fields, but I was wrong.

I asked myself on many occasions just how far I would have let that scenario go if either I or David had pushed it beyond what it had been, would I have allowed it to go further than that? No, I doubted that I would. To me, and only me it seemed, the act of masturbating in front of each other was wonderful, one that could have led to a deeper bond, but any further than that could have thrown us into some sort of depraved relationship less about mother and son and all about sex. That was not something I wanted, not at all.

I made two stops within five minutes of each other, the first was to the local neighborhood liquor store and picked up a fifteen pack of beer, I wanted to drink myself unconscious. I wanted these thoughts of my son and the damage that I caused to our relationship to leave me for at least a night. Just one night. The second stop was to the Pizza Hut, my pizza's were ready and waiting for my pickings. I paid, took the food out to the car and made my way down the final stretch to the house.

In essence I was afraid to return home, even in my anger I was more at peace at the office where I was not expecting anyone to talk to me, hoping that no one would. I used to expect David to talk to me, and definitely still wanted him to, but where there was conversation silence now reigned in almost utter and complete control.

I took the pizza in first, walked up to the house, unlocked the door and entered the darkening living room, without bothering to push off my shoes I went into the kitchen with the three white boxes and set them down on the table, after that I went back out to the car and brought in my documents and the beer.

I took the beer into the kitchen and stopped at the entrance, David stood dressed only in his black robe and hovering over the table checking out which pizza was what. The pause was instantaneous and just as short, giving him only enough time to turn away from the boxes spread out over the table to me. He gave me a nervous smile. I swallowed my dry spit and returned a smile hoping it was faked enough to pass as somewhat real, inside I was not smiling, not by a long shot.

"Hi mom." He said and his eyes trailed down my arm to the large box of beer, fifteen bottles. He raised his brow. "Drinking tonight?"

I nodded, now feeling guilty about the drinking but even that would not change my plans. I was going to go upstairs, take a long bath with a beer or two, come downstairs and drink until I needed to pass out. Like telling my son to masturbate in front of me, I had no choice. This was something that I had to do.

"Yah, long day and a very long week." I said, only slightly exaggerating. "How about your day, was school good?" He nodded and lifted the box containing his pizza, nodded again and walked to the cupboard as I went over to the fridge, as he grabbed two plates I made some space for the beer and shoved the box in. I noticed the obvious space in the conversation, inside of my chest I thought my heart was about to shrivel up and implode. I closed my eyes and held back my tears trying to force myself to look fine, everything

had

to look just as dandy as pie.

"School was good." He said and I swear I could hear his shoulders slump. "I broke up with Ashley."

And then, like any mother, my concerns and fears became moot, they were nothing compared to the problems concerning David right now. I pulled two beers out from the fridge and walked over to my handsome, hurt young man and handed him one of the brown bottles.

"Last night, Samantha caught her screwing some guy in the library washroom." He said as she shrugged his shoulders and pulled the cap off the bottle. He took a healthy swig of the golden ale and swallowed neatly. He let out a soft sigh. "I suspected she was sleeping around, but…"

He paused as he looked down at the pizza in the box, I could tell just how upset he was by the way his eyes motioned back and forth over the molten lakes of cheese and grease, in that moment I thought my heart was going to break for him. I wish my heart could break instead of his but it cannot, all I could do was consol him, if he let me.

"I think we both should be doing some drinking tonight." I said. If the beer ran out I always had a spare bottle of gin in the basement freezer and a chilled bottle of tonic water in the garage, mainly I kept it for when my sister came over. I hardly drank anything alone. "Grab some pizza and join me in the living room." I said, motioning with my head at the boxes on the tabletop.

Without a word or any kind of negative action, David grabbed a couple pieces of pizza and went into the living room. I grabbed a plate and a few slices and joined him moments later. He paused briefly in front of the couch in the same spot he was in three weeks ago, shook his head and went around to the front. He sat in the same spot he did when I ordered him to pull out his wonderful hard-on and masturbate. I knew that was what he was thinking about, and said nothing as I went around the couch and sat down where I had been, after laying and pawing at myself like a horny twenty-some year old waiting for her boyfriend to have his way with her.

"We never actually had sex, Ashley and I." He said. "We fooled around, but she would never...oh, boy…would never want to do

it

. I started to do more active things with her and other friends away from the bedroom because she…" He stopped, his face was almost beet-red from embarrassment as he figured out he was talking to his mother about his sex life. He bit down on a piece of hot pizza, chewed and swallowed. "…she would never allow me to cum."

I tried hard not to wince, but even I knew just how painful being teased and released could be, men got blue balls and we…I…just unpleasantly ached. There is a time when teasing can be fun, even beneficial like before you go off to work, just to keep your other half thinking about it all day and when he comes home from a along, hard day… I pulled my attention back from the momentary lapse into thought back to my son, I did not want to disturb his admission and the fact that he was talking, talking to me.

"Did you make her cum?" I asked, those words seemed so…so wrong as I asked my son if he made Ashley, his former girlfriend of a couple months or so, cum with some sexual act.

He chuckled and gave out a shit-eating grin.

Of course I did

, the smile said. Of course, what was I thinking? It seemed to me that he would do anything to please his partner in bed, like his father I doubted he would even allow himself much stimulation until she got off at least once.

"We fooled around, and I always made sure she came." He said, took another bite of his pizza and washed it down with a mouthful of beer.

I nodded, wondering why she did not want to have sex. It could not have been the fact that she was a virgin, obviously being caught in the bathroom having sex with someone else at the college. In my opinion that was more than slightly sluttish, giving your boyfriend blue balls all the time and yet not allowing him to have even a single orgasm, then go out and fuck some other guy. I knew from watching him masturbate that he was not small, not the largest penis I've seen but quite thick, and I wondered if that was what scared her: his thickness.

For a brief moment she saw his hard cock in her mind, dark skinned from the shadows draped over the living room, his nearly seven inch cock pushing straight out from between his legs with a wonderful girth that promised to stretch a young pussy and slide against

every

nerve inside. Her favorite image she masturbated to after the incident played in her mind: She watched his hand wrap around his thick cock and start to stroke, the uncut purple head being exposed as he pulled his hand down, and vanished as he pushed his hand up, covering the head with his pink, engorged foreskin.

She pulled herself out of the arousing image, just to find that the image she pleased herself with was starting to work, the tell-tale warm feeling of arousal from within her abdomen started to surface.

"I mean fuck—excuse my language but how do you go fucking around on your boyfriend without giving him a chance?" He asked, in his voice there was not anger but a sense of giving up. He paused and shook his head. "If I was bad in bed, I'd accept that she'd go fuck some stupid punk, but she's never given me a chance!"

I let him rant knowing that was what he needed to do, drank my beer and slowly ate the pizza on my plate leaving the crusts, I never ate the crusts. The rants were pretty standard, riddled with

whys

and

how could she's

, the same questions I asked when David's dad left me. Just as I did, he would eventually stop asking the questions and get on with his life, Ashley would eventually become a memory, and that memory would eventually be forgotten.

"…I mean if we went further than—" His words faltered and failed, the sentence was not complete, but it was. We both know how the sentence ended:

we did.

My private thoughts vanished as he spoke the half-sentence. Blushing furiously, he opened his mouth and closed it again. I watched him, watched his every reaction and saw what the nervousness that had been in his smile before we started to talk, before we came to the couch, sat down and before I allowed him to rant beside me.

And then he turned to me, his eyes met mine and silently we just sat on the couch and stared at each other, both of us knew what the other was thinking—or at least we

thought

we knew—and we also knew that this might have been apart of a problem between them, somehow I thought it was. And my instincts were correct.

"That Thursday night, when we…were on the couch, I came and it was a wonderful orgasm." He whispered, "but after that, when me and Ashley had a fight, I said that I wanted less time in the bedroom because of our…sessions not ending in anyone's satisfaction beyond hers." He paused. "I think I knew everything was falling apart right then, I think the inevitable end to our relationship was at that point, but neither of us knew it."

"I'm sorry." I whispered, right then I was about to cry again. I knew that what happened that night broke barriers that never should have been broken, through those barriers I ruined a relationship he was involved in—even if it was somewhat sick—and our own relationship. "I never—"

"No, wait." David whispered. His eyes started to water. "I really enjoyed what we did, and…"

The words died in his throat, I picked up my hand and set it down on his leg as a gesture of trust. I wanted to know what he thought about, what the real truth was, just to get something of a relationship between mother and son back. I just wanted things to be back to a semblance of normality, and talking about this—his and our problems--seemed the way to start healing the broken bond, the only way.

"And?" I whispered, but he froze up and went silent. He turned away from me as if sickened, stared out of the front window as if waiting for someone, and maybe there was someone out there, maybe there was not. "Please…I never wanted to hurt you. If I had known…"

He turned from the window to me. "This might sound sick…"

Sick? You want to talk about sick? I destroyed our relationship over some pent up sexual tension that needed to be released! How's that for sick?

"I've hurt you far more than I probably know." He whispered casting his eyes down to the floor to his feet. The blush in his cheeks flared up again. "I've been away from you because…because…"

"Because what we did?" I asked and took a swig of my beer.

He looked vulnerable as he swallowed and looked for the words he wanted to say, probably something a little more sugar coated then as blunt as me, in the end the words might be different but the feeling would be the same. I saw him start to open his mouth and closed my eyes. In that moment I wished I could close my ears just as fast.

"Because I could not stop thinking about you on the couch." He paused and took a quick swig of his beer. "The next day I wanted to do it again, see you naked and pleasuring yourself."

He paused in mid-thought, turned away from me in embarrassment again. I gently squeezed his leg for support. I looked down to my own feet and saw something I doubted I would see again. I saw the front of his robe slightly pushed out between his legs, my son's penis was at least slightly hard, again. I tried dismissing it from my mind, and at least for the time I succeeded.

"How about another beer?" He asked, killing his train of thought.

"I think we need to talk about this more." I said, turning my face up to his.

"We will, but I'm empty and you're almost there…and I need to collect my thoughts."

I imagined his semi-hard penis poking up against his black robe, pushing the heavy cloth forwards away from his body. I tried to stop the warm flush washing over my body by telling myself he was probably half-hard from talking about Ashley and imagining them fooling around, but the image and the feeling would not be stopped until they played out. In that moment I wanted to part his robe and just stare at his member, reach down and play with myself just to turn that heat up to full blast and have another orgasm, but not this time. If there was something salvageable between us as mother and son (thankfully, I saw there was something there wanting to be reaffirmed) I was not going to put that in jeopardy for

anything

. I could paw off later if I wanted to, and if I wanted to use my son's image, I could and no one would be the wiser.

I had to admit that using my son as a tool for my own pleasure made the act of masturbation even more intense and wonderful than it already was; even though we had been separated for nearly a month by an invisible cold wall, I still used the image of him as my fantasy and I doubt that would stop after tonight. His admission for thinking of me beyond that night was faintly pleasurable, it made me realize I still had some sexual charm though I had not been picked up or used since his father left us. But then again, I never looked hard.

I wondered what took him so long, looked over my shoulder and saw his shadow cast on the kitchen floor reaching up like a hand onto the fridge, wondered what he was doing and decided on him getting a second helping of pizza. I was not all that hungry anymore and did not want another piece. I turned away and he finally came back with two open beer bottles in hand, he came and sat down beside me, turning to him as I accepted the bottle I noticed his crotch through the lower portion of my vision, just enough to get me curious. I thought he had a full blown hard-on under his robe.

I gave him a smile and took a sip of the beer and looked down at my feet again, not because I was embarrassed, angry or saddened but because I wanted to see if my first guess was correct. He did have an erection under his robe and adjusted himself, which was what he must have been doing in the kitchen. I could see his shaft pressing up against the robe while his head was wrapped tightly against his body under the robe's tie. I forced myself to look up and through the window as another flush of warm pleasure washed over me like a shower. In that moment, I wished that things went better after that Thursday; I wished that I could just unwrap him like a present and use that image of his hardness to pleasure myself.

But I also wanted to reach out and touch him; I almost did three weeks ago. My reasoning stopped me as I felt his long, curly brown pubic hair against my fingertips, what I wanted was to swipe his hand away and finish him off myself, just like I wanted to disrobe and feel his hard maleness.