My mother was one of those people who always acted like she was better than everyone else. She was born with all of the advantages; good family, attractive, great body, and the knowledge that she was just plain better than everyone else. Needless to say, it made her into royal bitch. Unfortunately, she was also a royal bitch that had everyone wrapped around her fingers. I am sure that had nothing to do with the fact that she had an amazing body, that just oozed sexuality and she was not afraid to tease anyone to get her way.
As he son, you would think my life was golden, yes? Definitely not so. I was the product of her scheme to snare and marry a wealthy man. You see, she "accidentally" got pregnant and of course he did the right thing and married her. After a suitable amount of time, she showed her true colors and drove him away.
Of course she acted the part of the loving mother who would die without the custody of her dear son, which would also come with a hefty support agreement.
She despised me as the physical reminder of my father. As a result, she was cruel and harsh to me throughout my childhood. Her punishments were often very painful and at times humiliating. As a result, I hated her and harbored deep feelings of resentment and strong desires to pay her back if I was ever given the chance. It also drove me to leave the house as early as I could and drove me to be successful.
It had been almost ten years since I saw her again. I heard stories about her over the years, but I never had any interest to invite her back into my life. It surprised the hell out of me, when she showed up at my door out of the blue. She was crying crocodile tears and begging me to take her in. Apparently, she had lost almost all of the money she got from my father, had burned all other bridges, and because she never finished college after snagging my father, she had no prospects.
I am not a heartless bastard and my first instinct was to feel pity and want to help a woman in trouble. I am sure that it as the only reason that she tried me, because she knew I was a sentimental person, despite her raising me. However, it didn't take long for her to show her true colors again and remind me of why I hated and resented her. Unfortunately, I had already let her move into my house and she quickly embedded herself like a tick.
I tried to make the best of the situation, I generally dislike being alone and I was between girlfriends. I went through quite a few of them. I think it had a lot to do with how my mother raised me and my very skewed view of women based on her as an example. I expected the worst from women and always got it. This is yet another thing on my list of things to repay my mother for.
It was strange to have a woman in my house who I should have a close relationship with, but who I really only saw as a physical person. It gave me the chance to see her as a woman and not my mother. I definitely saw why she was so successful manipulating men. She was petite in a very feminine way, but had nice big tits and a lush ass, which both seemed strange on a woman so petite. It was like she was sculpted to be the physical embodiment of sex. To make matters worse, she was almost always walking around the house in yoga pants and clinging tops or in her silk robe that just barely covered her ass. I was almost constantly aroused and on the verge of exploding. It was strange to be so excited by a woman who I should have felt familial love for, and who I felt such hate for.
The worst thing for me was the constant flip back and forth between such strong sexual desire and such strong hatred. It was building and building and I didn't know how it was going to end, until that final straw, which not only broke the camel's back, but dropped the camel down on both of our heads. In an explosive mix of rage and sexual desire, both of our futures changed irrevocably.
I came home after a particularly stressful day and before I cold even change into comfortable clothes and relax for just a second, she launched into me about something ridiculous about the internet service or some such thing. I am in my room trying to change our of my work suit, and she just followed me in and continued to rant. When I told her to back off and give me a chance to relax in my own home, she lost it and started screaming all kinds of insulting and hurtful things at me. I was ready to snap, when of all things, she calls me a son of a bitch. I started laughing hysterically and she looked at me like I was a crazy person. I said, "You realize that makes you the bitch, right?" and laughed even harder.
Then she did something very stupid. She slapped me as hard as she could across my face. I was stunned into silence and just looked at her, as she almost vibrated she was so angry at me. It was in that moment that 25 years of rage and resentment exploded. I slapped her back. It was the first time I had ever struck anyone in anger. I had been involved in a lot of BDSM relationships, but the pain and impact play was always motivated by mutual desire. This was different. She was stunned. She was silent. She was afraid. All things I never saw her before.... and I liked it.
