6,030 words 25-minute read.
Different Fathers (Incest Mom and Son)
I am quite humbled by the editing I received from 'Bunkerhill' volunteer editor. Hoorah! Mission Accomplished! He assisted in combining and rewriting a two-piece idea into one story. Thank you to Bunkerhill.
The best surprise I ever had came from my mom when I turned nineteen. We lived on a hardscrabble farm in the Sacramento Valley of northern California, where we raised dairy cattle and alfalfa hay. The family consisted of three children and two parents. We had stayed together until the oldest left for college in nineteen fifty-seven. The remaining four were depleted when the second one married and moved to Washington State in nineteen fifty-eight—then being further reduced until it was just my mom and me when my dad returned to a job with the merchant marines out of San Francisco.
When life settled down in nineteen fifty-nine, mom and I occupied a house that had sheltered a family of five. Since it was challenging to maintain, she decided to move into the little farm town. So many other farmers across the country were moving at that time as large farming corporations had started buying up farms.
She sold the farm and bought a small two-bedroom home that was forty to seventy years old. It was situated on a little wasted lot in the center of town. She kept the mineral rights from the farm acreage, and as a result, she would never suffer for income. She drew about fifteen hundred dollars a month for the natural gas produced on the farm.
The bedrooms were arranged with a full bath with doors into each bedroom, known as a Jack and Jill floor plan. Interestingly, the name of the floor plan was the names of my mother and me; Jill and Jack.
My mom was 19 years older than me, and we had always joked about how life would change that day because I would no longer be less than half her age. She wanted to celebrate when the house was arranged and the deal closed on the farm. She called my siblings and sent a Western Union telegram to my dad, asking when they could come to a party to christen the little house.
The results were disappointing, and all were 'regrets' to the RSVP request. My dad was to be in Korea, my brother was scheduled to be a chief debater for the college, and my sister was now working at the Naval Research Station on Puget Sound near Anacortes, Washington State. Mom just took it all in stride and decided to spend the money on us instead.
She withdrew what she thought the celebration was going to cost, and we each packed a suitcase and drove to San Francisco, where we stayed at the Cliff House Hotel. She arranged for a suite of two bedrooms and paid for three nights. As soon as we had checked in, she said she wanted to go shopping and wanted me to help her choose some things she intended to purchase.
She stopped at the front desk, gave the man a list and a pair of ten-dollar bills, and smiled at me, deciding she would have a martini in the Palace Bar before we went out. She ordered two martinis and dropped four dollars on the bar. She immediately ordered two more and left a five-dollar bill before leading me to a booth in the dark cozy windowless corner. The booth only had one bench, so we sat beside each other and sipped the terrible-tasting drinks.
We hadn't finished the first martini when the barkeep shuffled the next two over to us. He asked if he could light the candle on the table, and my mom smiled at him and replied that she preferred that he wouldn't. He quickly swept the tabletop candle away, replacing it with a small shallow dish with a Gardenia floating in the water.
My mom loved the Gardenia, the martini, the quiet atmosphere, the dark corner booth, and that we were alone. She scooted over against me on the bench until I was jammed against the wall with her side touching me from my knee to my shoulder. The side of her breast was lying on the top of my forearm, and her leg was rubbing my leg. I was aware of my growing cock, which was pinched and becoming painful as it grew harder and longer twisted around in my briefs and slacks.
I was about to squirm and free myself when she laid her hand on it and began to stroke up and back, lightly but deliberately. I felt like she had knocked the wind out of me. I inhaled sharply and noisily at first. However, when she continued, I began to breathe faster.
She downed her first martini, looked over at me, and said, "Jack, did you know that you have a different dad than your sister and brother?"
I choked, spurted martini all over the table, and coughed from the martini, burning my nose.
After I regained control, she continued, "One time during the War, I was delivering ice for the ice company my dad owned when I met a guy who was 4-F. He was the mechanic at the Boulder Hotel. He helped me unload the largest blocks of ice into the hotel iceboxes in the kitchen. There were about nine hundred pounds of ice in 40 to 70-pound blocks, so his help was welcome and needed."
"When the ice had been taken care of, he told me to meet him in the bar in ten minutes, while he would get my payment. He picked up the house phone, called the bar, described me, and told the bartender to pour me a gin martini."
"He described me as five feet four inches, beautiful, shapely, shiny black hair, and thirsty. He showed me where the bar was and said, 'Let Dale tell you where to sit, and I will be able to find you.'"
"It was just after lunch hour, so the bar was busy. Dale, the bartender, had a tray ready and walked me over to a booth in the corner. He revealed the booth by pulling open a heavy brocade curtain. The booth was like this, one-sided."
"When Dale placed my drink on the table, he put three others there. I looked at him, and he said, 'Warren will want one when he comes in, so do not be alarmed. Not only that, I won a prize at the Chicago World's Fair competition for the best martini, and that is what I have prepared for you. Enjoy; they are delicious.'"
"I sat and tasted my first alcohol. I liked the Chile flavor and bite of the martini. I had finished it and half of another when Warren arrived with the check for the ice. He slid onto the bench beside me, causing me to slide farther along the bench until I was squished against the wall, much as you are here now. I had waited for about twenty minutes and was feeling and enjoying the martini and the effect of the alcohol."
"I had been warned by my parents of the evils of alcohol and had no understanding of how straight gin and vermouth would taste or affect me. Warren picked up the half-finished glass, and offered his glass against the third martini sitting on the table offering a toast,' May the fair maiden enjoy the experience of a martini in the middle of a workday in the best hotel west of the Mississippi River. I am charmed by the beauty, and pressure of the lady rubbing herself against me.'"
"He waited until I had another sip and said, 'Jill, raise your glass and listen. I have never been so hypnotized by a woman. I am defenseless and charmed by you. Jill, I cannot remember ever feeling so close to a stranger as I have been feeling being with you today. Drink up, Jill, this toast is to you and me.'"
"I questioned, "What 'you and me?' I do not know of any 'you and me.'"
