Let me tell you a little about my Mom, Catherine. Catherine the Great as I called her for the past 15 years ruling our house like an overbearing Queen with an iron fist. She is 42 years old and divorced since she was 27. The problem with Mom is that she is very controlling and has always been an extreme flirt never being ashamed to show off her body in public. I guess that's what drove Dad to an early exit six years after getting married. Mom pretty much went downhill after that, hitting rock bottom quickly.
She was always going out and drinking and flirting, becoming quite the talk of the town. She was well known as a "home wrecker" and the local women would always look and talk to themselves while pointing when they saw her in public. She deserved it though often bringing home different guys for "sleep overs" and then they'd be gone by the next morning while she slept the day away. Sleep overs, that's what she told me anyway. I might have been young & naive in the beginning but as I grew older I figured out what the sounds from her bedroom really were and put two and two together. When I was younger, I wasn't sure if those sounds were them killing each other or having fun.
Problem was that all the while this was going on, Mom would run around the house wearing practically nothing. Just like, I hate to say it, a true piece of white trash. Even though she was pretty and very shapely, I found it embarrassing whenever my friends would come over or even more so later when I would invite a girl over to study.
When I was a teenager, my guy friends thought Mom was great and she ate up all the hormone-driven attention she could muster from them. She'd squeeze past them so close in our tiny kitchen they could feel her body heat or she would come up behind them giving them a quick pinch in the butt. Her favorite thing to do was to wait until we were sitting at the table and she'd walk up behind one of us placing her hands on our shoulders and massage our "aching muscles" while pushing her boobs around the back of our heads. She rarely wore a bra so while her boobs were wrapped around one guy's head, the others got to see her taut shirt revealing her swelling nipples underneath. I can't imagine how many boners must have been sticking up underneath that kitchen table. It always made me uneasy especially when she'd do it to me.
When my friends were there, she would even flirt with me making me squirm in front of them but that wasn't until I was around 18 and a senior in high school. I was playing football and lifting weights and really bulking up. She'd comment on my physique to the guys saying how cute I was and the girls must be crazy for me. But then as soon as they left the house it was back to "Catherine the Great" and "do this" and "do that" and "you want to go out with who? She's a piece of trash."
Mom never once approved of any girl I ever mentioned. They were never good enough for her boy she'd say. Then she'd follow that by saying that I was her man, "Momma's big man," and I was never going anywhere. I was to stay at home and take care of Mom for the rest of my life.
Now even though Mom was overbearing, controlling and a big drunken flirt I still loved her like any son loves his Mom. I would look at her when she was peacefully sleeping, or passed out, on the couch and think how pretty she is and how things could be different if Dad had stayed or if she'd have had just one man in her life instead of every Tom, Dick and Harry. She looked so happy and calm when she slept.
It was hard to keep that image in my mind for long though as I was often distracted by her clothing, or lack of it, revealing more than I wanted to see. I often had to "cover things up" but it eventually grew to much greater distractions as time went on.
I was never sure where I'd find Mom after a night out or from an in-house evening with a fifth of some variety. But I knew it was my unfortunate "duty" to take care of her. Sometimes I'd find her drunk on the toilet begging me to get her to the bedroom, her undies down to her ankles, clothes half on and half off. Sometimes she'd fall up the steps or pass out in the hall. She was such a pain in the ass and it was very frustrating to have to take care of my drunken mother at least two nights a week. I had mixed feelings about every thing and to complicate my life even further I was even more confused when I'd find her half naked and I had a hard time resisting the urge to take a peek at her nakedness. Curiosity won me over most of the time along with raging hormones and my general immature lack of respect for her.
I am reluctant to say that I have probably seen as much of my Mom's naked body as some of the men she's brought home. Sometimes she would mistake me as one of her beaus helping her to bed and start stripping off her clothes on the way. Hugging and kissing me as I tell her who I am and she'd say something like there's nothing wrong with a mother kissing her son or some profound reason that we all should be naked but Eve had to screw things up. Most of the time I couldn't understand her but there was no mistaking her intentions when she touched me.
It happened very few times. Mistaking me for one of her beaus she'd reach down and rub my crotch squeezing my pecker trying to get me hard. The first time she did this me abruptly pushed her against the wall out of reflex. Thinking the shock of her hitting the wall would jolt her back to reality I stood frozen waiting for her reaction. Mom just started laughing, telling me she liked it rough. I held her up as she started sliding down the wall and she again urged me to "rough" her up as she grabbed my crotch. I told her who I was but she was oblivious to all communication so I took her back the hall trying to keep her hand from my privates and put her to bed.
