Editor's note: this fictional work contains scenes of completely fictional incest or fictional incest content.
*****
It was Saturday afternoon. I arrived at my childhood home a bit later than planned, hungover as usual. My parents had separated a few months before. I was there to visit my mom and help her clear out some stuff from the house. I could see the lights on downstairs. The back door was unlocked.
I smiled as the family dog greeted me, and didn't immediately look up when my mom entered the kitchen. When I did, I was quite surprised that her appearance had changed dramatically since I'd last seen her. Her hair, previously white and kept short, had been dyed more of a grey, put into cornrows, and hung down to her butt, obviously from extensions. She was wearing makeup, unheard of for at least a decade, and lots of it. With dark, micro-bladed eyebrows, eye shadow, eyelash extensions, blush, and burgundy lipstick bordered with dark lip liner, she looked at least 15 years younger. It looked like she'd even gotten some work done on her face with lip injections and botox.
She wore two sets of rather large golden hoops in each ear, meaning she'd gotten an extra piercing. A low cut V-neck blouse showed off a considerable amount of cleavage, and tight low rise capris showed off her curves. She was otherwise decorated with lots more jewelry than I'd ever known her to wear: a necklace with a large glittery charm that sat just above her cleavage, several bracelets, rings, and an anklet. She'd even grown her nails out and painted them, something I couldn't remember her doing for at least 20 years. I was saddened to notice she wasn't wearing her wedding ring; her left ring finger looked oddly naked next to all the bling she had on the others. I hoped that didn't mean what I thought it did... Even though I no longer lived with them, I was heartbroken to learn they'd split up, and I hoped they would miss each other and move back in together soon.
"Sorry I'm late," I said sheepishly.
"No problem," she said. "I have a friend from work coming over in a bit, but we should be done by then."
"I, uh, like your new look!"
"Thanks," she sighed and shrugged. "Just thought I'd try something different. Do I get a hug?"
I got up from petting the dog and hugged her. It was kind of weird hugging this new, younger looking version of my mom, but the loving embrace was still there.
"Your new look must have cost a few bucks!"
"Eh, well, having to work full time sucks, but it has its perks."
We went down into the basement first. She had several boxes of old clothes, decorations, etc. to carry upstairs and load into my car for donation. I began carrying the heavier boxes upstairs.
"So, uh, how have things been without Dad here?"
She hesitated. "Different. It all doesn't feel real yet, but I'm getting by. I definitely don't miss getting yelled at!"
"Yeah," I sighed as I shook my head.
I didn't blame either of them for splitting up. I was just surprised they'd gotten fed up with each other after all these years. At the same time, I don't think they'd ever truly learned to get along. I just wanted things to go back to the way they used to be.
I asked my dreaded question. "Are you, um, seeing anyone?"
"Nope! No time for that with work and taking care of the house."
I knew she wasn't directing that at me, but I still felt guilty, but also relieved that she wasn't dating.
"Well I'll come by more often and help around the house."
"Nah, don't worry about it. I know you're busy. This gives me something to do."
I wanted to protest, but I knew she was just as stubborn as I was.
On my fourth trip back down to the basement, something caught my eye that immediately stirred an intense, uncomfortable mixture of repulsion and arousal in my stomach: while bending over to pick up a box, my mom's blouse hiked up the reveal the straps of a bright blue g-string peeking up over her jeans. What was worse, on her lower back was a large tribal tattoo. A tramp stamp! I stared for a second, then backed up away from view.
My mom had never had tattoos, and I never would have guessed that she'd be interested in getting one. I didn't know what to say, and I didn't want to embarrass her, so I'd just have to pretend I hadn't seen anything. Whatever. If this is how she's coping with the separation, it's not the end of the world.
My heart pounding and my stomach full of butterflies, I walked back downstairs, by which point she'd stood back up, once again concealing her lower back. I tried to make small talk about the weather, the pets, anything to distract me from what I'd just seen, but the strange feelings didn't subside. I needed to get out of here and process this. I needed to watch some porn that didn't at all remind me of my mother and get this out of my system. I picked up the pace.
Once we'd loaded the boxes from the basement into my car, we went up to the attic for the rest. She had to climb the ladder into the attic because I was too heavy for it. I fought, and lost, an inner battle to keep from staring at her ass as she climbed, fascinated but repulsed by little peeks I saw of her tattoo.
I couldn't help but picture the sight of her ass in that g-string without the jeans. Girls used to let their thongs hang out on purpose when I was in school, and I had stolen many greedy glances in those days. It was bizarre, but enticing in a devilishly forbidden way to receive that same teasing stimulation from my mother. Somewhat resentful that she had this effect on me, I grew jealous and suspicious of her. After all the shaming she'd heaped on me when I was younger for watching porn in this very house, her immodest appearance now filled me with the very lust she'd expected me to fight.
Who was this work friend coming over? Did one of the slutty younger women she works with convince her to change up her look like this? I wouldn't press her, but my curiosity demanded some tidbit at least.
"Your work friend gonna be here soon?"
"No. He just texted me and said he's running late."
He. He! I was also surprised to learn she was texting at all. She'd been resistant to getting a cell phone for years, preferring people get in touch with her the old fashioned way. I needed to get her phone somehow and see who she'd been talking to.
Once she'd handed me all the boxes, she went to the bathroom as I started carrying them downstairs. Her phone was on the counter. Perfect. It took me two guesses to get her PIN. My heart jumped as her phone received a text just as I picked it up. It simply read "Ok", from a contact named "DeAndre Work". I tapped it to open the conversation. The previous message was from my mom about 10 minutes earlier, reading "My son is still here. I'll let you know when he leaves."
My heart sped up and my jealousy grew, but just then I heard her footsteps coming down the stairs. I quickly locked her phone, placed it where I'd found it, and started carrying boxes out the door. She'd lied to me! He wasn't running late. She didn't want me around when he came over. I had to know. I just had to know.
I finished loading the remaining boxes into my car as quickly as I could.
"Something wrong?" she asked.
"Nah, I'm alright. Just, work has been stressful," I lied.
"Pshh yeah, tell me about it. Retail sucks."
I nodded. We hugged each other goodbye, and I had to fight the urge to move my hands down to her lower back, where I now knew a suggestive tattoo drew attention to suggestive underwear, which barely concealed a naturally curvy booty. I got into my car and drove down my childhood street and onto the highway, but once I reached the highway, I looped back around the neighborhood, parking a few blocks away from my parents' house.
I would have to be very, very careful. Luckily this was a quiet neighborhood, and there were no neighbors to be seen as I slowly approached the house from the alley. Once I was just in view of the windows, I hid behind a large tree and looked for activity.
The kitchen light was on. I saw her light a scented candle as she always does for guests, then grab a couple wine bottles and a pair of wine glasses from the pantry. I rarely knew her to drink, but apparently she was drinking tonight. I saw the dining room light come on, then dim. A few seconds later, I started hearing faint sounds of jazz coming from the dining room radio. She even came back into the kitchen to grab three tall red candles and a fancy candle holder.
This was no friendly chat with a coworker. She was preparing for a romantic evening, and she was putting far more effort into it than I had ever seen her do for my dad. If only I'd had more time to scroll up through their conversation! She turned the kitchen light off, and half a minute later, the bathroom light came on.
I could see her touching up the liner bordering her newly filled lips, then applying more of her burgundy lipstick. She freshened up her blush. She even peeled off the fake lashes she'd been wearing earlier and applied a set of longer ones, then applied a darker shade of eye shadow. Whatever look she was going for tonight, it was dramatic.
A green SUV rolled up the street. The windows were tinted, masking the driver. I couldn't see the front of our house from my position, but I heard someone walk up the front steps and knock on the door. My mom took one last look in the mirror, put on a few spritzes of perfume, and turned out the bathroom light. Sadness, jealousy, and arousal overwhelmed me. I had to get into the house.
When I heard the front door open, I knew they wouldn't see me if I made it into the basement door quickly enough. Practiced from having snuck out and back in that way for years, I darted to the door, key ready, silently opened it, and crept in. I would hide under the stairwell, directly below them in the dining room. Now in position and quite worked up, my hand unconsciously wandered to my crotch, desperate for stimulation and self soothing.
I could hear their conversation perfectly.
"Damn girl you look gooooooood!"
"Aww," she had doubt in her voice. "Thanks. Ok for an old lady I guess."
"You ain't old, baby. Come here."
I heard them exchange a quick kiss. They fucking kissed! I couldn't believe it. My mom was still married and she'd just kissed another man! My dick twitched as I felt sick to my stomach. I couldn't stop listening.
"Well, make yourself at home." She sounded like she'd been blushing.
"Don't mind if I do!"
This must be DeAndre. From his voice, I pegged him as a black man in his 40's. My mom was in her mid 60's. He was probably less than a decade older than me!
