Introduction: A Mother's Sin - My excuse
These events took place in November 2013, less than a year ago...even now, these events seem surreal. I struggle to accept the fact that I committed this sin. But I must face the fact that I did allow my son into my bed.
My excuse
My mind wanders frequently; often in ways I do not intend, or want. I do not know if I am unique or not, but on occasion, I find myself thinking about things that society deems highly inappropriate. These things involve my only son, Gary.
When I allowed myself to explore inappropriate fantasies, I used do so with the strong belief that these were only fantasies; I would never actually act upon them. Further, I was comforted by the belief that in the real world in which I live, I knew I would not be tempted to act out any of these perverse desires that haunt my subconscious because I believed I would never actually be placed in a situation that would allow me to act inappropriately with my son. As you will see momentarily, I was wrong.
Fate is unpredictable and, on occasion, cruel. So as you read my story, I ask you to try to refrain from judging me too harshly. It was an unexpected and unplanned set of events that lead to my most heinous sin, and my demise. It was an avalanche of emotions associated with my father's unexpected illness and his imminent death, the unwise decision I made to drink with my son to alleviate my sense of loss, and being thrust into the unusual situation where I was forced to share a hotel room with my son, that combined to drive me to cross a line that I never intended to cross.
I never expected or intended to do the things that I did. Before judging me, you should realize that perhaps you too could make grievous mistakes if placed in the 'wrong situation', with the proper (or perhaps I should say improper?) emotional state of mind.
I am not proud of what I did; but this is my story nonetheless.
Chapter one - the intimacy starts
I was sitting at my desk when I received the call from my step-mother; my father had a stroke. Dad was in very serious condition and was not expected to live long. Lorraine told me, that if I wanted to see him alive again, I should make haste and get to Santa Fe, New Mexico.
I was numb. Although, it had been over a year since I had seen Dad, I spoke with him at least once a week, often more frequently. He and I were close.
Of course, objectively speaking, I knew that he was eventually going to die; we all do; but he had been healthy and vibrant the last time I saw him. I did not expect a call like this for many, many years. I was in great of a shock and really did not know how to respond.
I arranged to pick up Gary, my only son, at his high school and then headed home to pack for the trip. Gary was a few weeks past his 18th birthday, and was in his senior year in high school. Gary and I had been very close since his father and I divorced nearly a decade earlier. We had a bond and an emotional closeness that is difficult to express in words.
We packed quickly and left our home shortly after lunch for a multi-day journey to see my father before it was too late.
It was after 1:00 p.m. when Gary and I headed out of Chicago in my Honda Civic on I-55 on our trek. Dad and Lorraine (my step mother) had retired to Santa Fe years ago and it was quite a trip from Chicago to see them. It would take us three full days of driving. Gary and I would share the driving.
As we drove, we talked about dad, our family, Gary's and my closeness. I cried some and laughed some. In my emotionally needy state, I felt even closer to Gary than usual. At the time, it did not feel wrong to lean on Gary the way I did. In fact, our closeness seemed natural and appropriate.
It was almost 9 p.m. when we pulled off the road for the night outside St. Louis, looking for a place to spend the night. Since the trip was completely unplanned, we did not have reservations. We went to three different motels before finding one with vacancies; a Holiday Inn Express which did not have any rooms with two queen beds, only rooms with single king beds. I really could not afford separate rooms.
As I was traveling with my teenage son, this presented an awkward situation; however, we were both exhausted and were far too tired to get back on the road and continue to look for a more suitable sleeping arrangement. Gary & I agreed we could share a king size bed tonight under these circumstances. I bought a bottle of cheap merlot wine from the convenience store in the lobby, thinking that I could use a little help getting to sleep to night.
We went to the room. I took a shower, dried my hair and came to bed wearing a t-shirt and my panties. I was not overly matronly, but neither was I wearing anything revealing or overly provocative. I exited the bathroom to find Gary lying on top of the bed in his boxers without a shirt; he watching TV. I was immediately impressed with the nice physique my son had now. He had nice muscle tone; his chest and arms were developing nicely. I also noticed his 'package' in front of his boxers bulged slightly, indicating that he was developing nicely there too. I must admit, I took some degree of pride in the fine looking young man my son had become.
Gary's father was a big man, about 6 ft 4 inches tall and 225 pounds. One the other hand, I was a small petite woman, 5 ft 4 inches (if I stretched), and about 115 pounds. Gary favored his father, he was slender, but had grown to 6 ft 3 inches and was approaching 200 pounds. He had broad shoulders, muscular arms, and a nicely developed chest. No question about it, Gary was going to be very popular with the girls once he got over his shyness. In a somewhat perverse way, I envied the young women that I knew Gary would sexually ravage and pleasure some day soon.
As I confessed earlier, at times while masturbating, I would fantasize that I was a young girl and Gary was taking my virginity. It seemed like a harmless fantasy at the time.
I opened the bottle of wine and poured myself a sizeable glass of the burgundy colored nectar that I hoped would relax me enough to get some sleep. I climbed on the bed next to Gary and sipped my wine.
"Mom, can I taste that?" Gary asked.
I handed him the glass and watched with interest. He sipped the merlot, and nodded appreciatively. I then asked, "would you like a glass?" He nodded. I saw no harm, so I poured him a glass and refilled my own glass.
We spent the next hour or so, talking and together we consumed the bottle of wine. Gary got a little gabby and frisky with the two glasses of wine he had. I could feel myself becoming slightly light headed from my third glass; usually my limit is two.
It was after 10:30 p.m., when I declared it was time for 'lights out'; we needed our sleep. We climbed under the covers, each staying on our own side of the bed in the eerie silence of the darkness. Then the enormity of my father's stroke, and his impending death hit me, and I began to cry. Although I tried to be silent in my tears, Gary sensed that I was weeping.
"Mom, are you OK?" he asked with genuine concern.
"Oh, I will be. I am just upset about your grandfather." I said, my voice cracking as I spoke. I turned on my side, my back to my son, and continue to cry.
Gary rolled over next to me, and placed his arm around me, comforting me. I welcomed the contact as he slid behind me, spooning me. I was not dating anyone at the time and it had been many months since I had enjoyed the comfort and intimacy of a man's touch. I missed it, a lot.