Author's Note: This is a fantasy, please don't be offended by the content or anyone's depiction. I read all your comments and appreciate your feedback.
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I wish I had someone I could confide the events of last night. There are things too big to keep in my chest, and therefore, I must risk writing them down.
There's an old shoebox in a hidden compartment of my wardrobe. I take it out, as dusty as anything can be, and flick through the pages of my perversions. But this one is different from them all and gets its own special paper to be written down upon.
My husband left for work two hours ago to do a 24-hour shift. My son is sleeping on his bed, snoring loudly after a Friday night out. And I just called in sick for work, such a migraine, I said in my most convincing fake voice - I know I'll be written up for it - in the restaurant they don't like us to call in sick, but how could I not?
I'm sure they'll manage.
I drank a cup of wine after dinner, as usual, and watched a movie with my husband, Cleveland. Maybe two cups of wine - it doesn't matter. Cleveland was insufferable, ranting on and on about how my carelessness was costing us money. By this, he meant leaving the lights on in the bathroom after leaving. Which I did once.
Maybe twice.
Frank texted me, saying he was going to go for drinks with his friends and don't be worried about him. It was a nice gesture, and he's been doing that ever since I didn't hear from him for two days, and he was with his frat mates on a bender with girls and alcohol.
At least there were no drugs.
Cleveland thinks I give him too much freedom, but I see it as being realistic - how can you chain down a 6ft something rugby player that carries my weight in one thigh alone?
I'm not saying he's scary. All I'm saying is I wrote on a piece of paper how I feel doing his laundry. And maybe I've checked his wallet and found all those extra large condoms. Maybe it was just a casual finding.
But I love my son, no matter what. He was such a complicated, and late pregnancy, a miracle baby, and Cleveland used that to accuse me of spoiling him. I do not.
By the time the movie is over, Cleveland is almost asleep, so we finish our evening rituals and go to bed.
There was no kiss. No touch. No warmth.
After almost thirty years of marriage, it's difficult to expect that, but I never thought my fifties would bring such a horny desire for men. And your hands can only do so much.
At precisely 02:01 in the morning, I heard a noise. I had my eyes open, as Cleveland's snoring woke me up just moments before, and I shook him gently, so he would change positions. He kept sleeping, the earplugs blocking any sound, and I heard the noise again. Someone talking, laughing, and then things falling on the floor, muffled by the carpeted surface. I recognized Frank's voice, and the front door shut with such a loud bang that it made the walls tremble.
I put my cardigan over my nightgown and went to check what was going on. This was not the first time Frank gets drunk at home, but he was doing better. He's wasted, for fuck sake.
Frank couldn't walk in a straight line, and when I got to the living room, he was holding onto the couch, eyes closed, and a big smile on his stupid face. I called his name, and he looked up.
"Mother!" he almost shouted, and I told him off.
"Look at you," I was frustrated. He's a stubborn piece of shit when he gets into this state, and my only thought was I needed to get him into the room. "If your dad sees you in this state, you know what happens."
He stared longly at me. "He kicks me out of here?"
"That's right, my love." It wasn't an empty threat. For Cleveland, having to feed Frank was something unfair, as he should have left home at 18. He eats for three, he accuses. Cleveland is a prick.
"But I don't want to leave you." He let go of the couch to wrap his arms around me.
He had a strong scent of beer, so I unhooked him from me and walked him to his bedroom. It was a slow process, dragging him across the room and ignoring the way he played with my hair or the times he kissed my cheek. His breath was making me question if Cleveland was right after all.
"You're so pretty," he says, playing with the fabric of the nightgown, but I slapped his hand.
If I can confess, the warmth of his body alone was making me feel... things. It was more than the warmth. It was his weight on me, my fingers couldn't wrap around his wrists, his forearms so hard, pure muscle. He was getting me horny without realizing it.
I have a few notes written about my son. This ain't the first time he gets me horny without knowing. And it's not him specifically. Any tall, handsome man that compliments me has that effect.
It was like cutting the finish line when we got to his bedroom. "You smell like candy," he says, biting my neck. I had to push his face away, his smile melting me down and his hands holding me.
"Stop it, Frank. Go to sleep."
"I don't wanna."
"Frank!" I said in a stern voice. He understood, "alright alright," he mumbled, sat on the bed, and immediately lay down.
"Your shoes, Frank." If there is one thing that bothers me, is to have your street clothes on a bed.
"I'm in bed, that's what you wanted," he laughed. "Come to bed with me."
I didn't like the way that sounded or the way his eyes took my measurements. I warned him one last time, that I'd get his dad if he didn't obey me, but he just said he was too tired to even give a fuck.
He knows he owes me a dollar for the swearing jar.
I've written somewhere about how his youth makes me feel alive. He's my miracle son, who would have thought something so small would grow up to be this big? I've found his cum rags countless times, there's an energy to him that seems unstoppable.
I go back to the bender of beer and sex he had. I couldn't believe it when I heard, walking inside that frat house, opening the door of a room, and finding him in bed, lying on his stomach, a perfectly round peach ass naked in full view. And then, five girls sleeping naked, and another two jocks just like him.
Such debauchery.
Maybe it wasn't five girls. My memory makes things up sometimes.
But that ass was imprinted on my mind.
