Mom was acting kind of weird again. For the last week she had been acting real depressed and seemed very distracted. Like, once in a while I'd get the feeling I was being watched, and I'd glance around and find her staring at me with a kind of spacy look on her face. Not scary-spacy, but like she was really lost somewhere in thought. Like I said, just kind of weird.
It didn't help that Sarah was gone for two weeks with a friend who'd won a 12-day Alaskan cruise. That meant that I wasn't getting my fill of incredible sex that had now become a staple in our brother-sister-lover relationship over the last 4 months. We laughed when Sarah joked before leaving that she wished she was the one who won the trip so she could take me, only that we'd never see the outside of the cabin because we'd be sucking and fucking our brains out.
Of course, the reason my sister and I didn't go at it all the time at home was our mom. I mean, what mom wouldn't absolutely freak to know that her two children, adult they might be, were enjoying incredible incestuous sex?
Now, the reason that Sarah and I remained living at home with mom was at her request. We had some property to take care of. Not really a farm, but we grew enough apples and strawberries to keep extra money in the household, and mom had a real job that prevented her from doing it all herself.
So, it kind of put a damper on sex between my sister and I since we had to either wait until mom was away from home on her job, or sneak some fun whenever we could. I will admit that a blanket under apple trees can be a very exciting place to have some fun quickie sex.
Back to mom: our dad split when I was twelve. Just up and disappeared. Mom got over it pretty fast, though; well, at least from the perspective of a then pre-teen like me. And as for Sarah and me, let's just say that he wasn't much of a dad to begin with so neither of us were too torn up about it. He was really never around much when he did live with us, so his sudden departure wasn't near the emotional let-down one might expect. Mom was very loving and was always doting on my sister and me, so neither of us were exactly wanting for affection.
I remember my mom only dating maybe a half-dozen times since then. It wasn't like she didn't have the opportunity because men hit on her all the time. I know because a lot of them did so openly even when Sarah or I was around. We got used to it -- well, we had to get used to it -- since our mom has always been a really pretty woman. I'd even say that she's sexy and men have always picked up on that real fast. That was definitely a trait that was passed down to Sarah.
Mom is about 5' 6", with long blond hair and a really pretty face. She's not skinny, but she has a real nice shape to her with full boobs and long, nicely shaped legs that she often showed off with short skirts or shorts. She never dressed like a slut or anything; she just didn't play the modest routine. Put her in a bikini at the lake and I swear that men would fall over themselves staring at her. Sarah and I got a kick out of watching that happen over the years.
Still, mom didn't find an interest in the many men who came on to her. She once confided that after my dad first bailed on us that a lot of married men were quick to make passes at her to "help" her get through the abandonment of my father. She didn't take any of them up on it, though, and I'd guess that's where she built up her general distrust of men. So that left me to be the man of the house for the last six and a half years.
Anyways, even though mom had been in a funk over the last six or seven days, she was still her usual, loving self. Whenever she did go through her periods of depression, she never withdrew from my sister or me, and sometimes even got more affectionate. I'm not entirely sure how it made Sarah feel, but it made me feel like I was one of the few men in her life she knew she could depend on, and I was pretty proud of that.
I came home after a morning of working out with some friends and found mom in my room. She was sitting on my bed in her fluffy blue robe with a glass of red wine in her hand. She was just kind of staring at the wall and didn't seem to notice when I came in.
"Mom?" I asked.
"Hey, punkin," she replied after she shook herself out of her lost thoughts. "I wasn't expecting you home so early."
"It's... my usual time," I said.
She looked down at her half-full glass of wine. "Then I guess I started drinking earlier than I thought," she said with a chuckle.
Mom really didn't drink all that much, and she didn't appear drunk. I passed it off as part of her funk. She just sat there on the edge of my bed and stared at me with a little smile on her face.
"You've really grown up to be a very handsome young man," she said with a certain sparkle in her eyes.
"That's just the mom in you talking," I replied as I set my duffle on the dresser. "You're supposed to say things like that even if I have three eyes and an incurable rash all over my body."
Mom laughed with that bright enthusiasm that everybody knew her for.
"Well, in your case I'd say it even if you weren't my son," she said as she got up off my bed and stepped up to me and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek. "You and your sister are the only good things ever to come from your father."
I guess mom really was in a mood or a little tipsier than I thought because she rarely, if ever, brought up my father in a conversation. She tipped her head back and finished her drink.
"I think I'll take a bath," she said, setting her now empty wine glass on my dresser as she walked by me and out of my room.
After she walked down the hallway to her bedroom I picked up the glass and took it into the kitchen. Given mom's apparent condition I half-expected the kitchen to look like a mess, but it was neat and clean. In fact, nothing at all looked untidy or out of place as one might expect from someone dealing with depression.
Weird.
I had gone back to my room and changed into a clean tank top and loose gym shorts and was sitting on my bed thumbing through a sports magazine for some time when I looked up and saw my mom again. She was standing in the doorway of my room, still in her blue bathrobe but with her blond hair wet and clingy.
"What's up, Mom?" I asked casually.
She didn't reply but stood there staring at me with a far away look in her eyes. I couldn't tell if there was sadness or some other like emotion in her eyes, but I could tell that something pretty heavy was going on in her mind.
"You okay, mom?" I asked.
"It's been a long time," she replied quietly.
"A long time since what?" I asked.
"Since you were a baby," she said, looking a little misty eyed. "Since you were a little boy."
