My life had not gone as I had accepted it to. I didn’t have that dream life that women plan out when they are little girls. Sure, I had gotten married and had a child. But I had gotten married too young and though my husband and I never spilt up we aren’t happy with each other now. He hasn’t had sex with me in about a year now. I know he’s cheating on me, but I just don’t have the energy to start a fight with him. I really don’t care anyway; I gave up on him a long time ago.
Now, I have become bored on top of lonely. My son is now in college and though he still lives at home I hardly ever see him. I’ve thought about getting a job, but then I think of all the reasons not to. Why get a job and be independent when I could just live off my husband’s money. He deserves it anyway. The hell he’s put me through, making me into this depressed shadow of myself. I figure that it kills him everyday to know that he still has to see me, support me, and when he is home lay with me in bed. It makes my day a little better to know that I’m making him just as miserable as he has made me. I know that it probably isn’t the way to live, and I might not be so depressed if I leave him, but I can’t do it. Though I tell myself that I hate him, deep down there is still the love that I had for him when we were first married, and the feeling of pleasure when I see his face draw down when he comes home and sees that I am still here.
To pass the time of day I took up masturbating. I know it sounds silly that I would do this to pass the day away, but I really have nothing else to do. Plus, it makes me happy for the moment especially when I hit that point of no return. I started doing it just to relieve the sexual tension that I felt, but soon I figured out that after I calmed down I was still horny. Masturbating alone doesn’t cure how horny I am, just makes it better for a little while.
I started staying in the bedroom all day long, but after awhile the scenery in there got too boring and I couldn’t get off anymore. I moved into the living room, first on the floor then moving up to the couch. Soon, that wasn’t enough either, and I started to open the blinds in the house. Letting anyone who looked in the house a chance to see me, this excited me more than anything I had ever done. I fantasized that my male neighbors were watching me intently, though I had really no idea if anyone saw me or not. It turned me on just thinking that they were.
One day after one of my many sessions my son came in the door. I was putting away all my toys. I let out a breath of relief. I knew that I was cutting it close today, but I was in need of it more than ever that day. I threw my dress back on, ran my fingers through my hair, put on a smile and went to greet him.
“Hi Brad.”
“Hey Mom.”
He looked worried, “something wrong honey?” I could hear my voice was still shaky from the orgasm that I had just experienced, I cleared my throat in hopes that it would go away.
He shook his head and looked at me, “I’ve been thinking, and I don’t know why you stay with Dad. I mean obliviously things haven’t gone well between you two in a long time. Look at you, I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re still pretty and all, but you walk around with your shoulders slumped. You have bags under your eyes, and I just can’t stand to see it anymore. You sound like you’re about to cry now.”
I cleared my throat again, “I’m not about to cry, and I don’t think you need to concern yourself with mine and your father’s problems.”
“Yes, I do. I hate seeing you like this, and I blame him for it. I saw him the other night at a bar with some girl. You need to leave him.”
“I am not going to leave your father. I made vows a long time ago, and I will stay with those vows. I’m done talking about this with you.”
“Whatever. Look if you aren’t going to leave him, at least make yourself happy. Go out find a man or something.”
“I’m not going to bring myself down to your father’s level by going out and getting some man. Now, stop talking about it. I am happy when you’re here, and that’s all that matters.”
“There’ll be a time when I don’t live here anymore Mom. What’re you going to do then?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t want to talk about it anymore. You hungry?”
“Naw, I just stopped in to grab one of my books. I’m going to the library to study with some friends.”
“Oh okay. When are you going to be back?”
“Late probably.” He kissed my forehead and ran upstairs. On his way back down he stopped and stared at me again. “Mom you should really think about what I said even though you wouldn’t let me finish. It might do you some good.”
I gave him a stern look, but before I could say anything to him he walked out the door. I plopped down on the couch and flipped on the TV. There wasn’t really anything on, but staring mindlessly at it made me not think about what Brad had said.
The days that follow were filled with lectures from my son. No matter how much I told him I didn’t want to listen to it, he wouldn’t shut up. Everyday was the same, he’d command me, and he’d plead with me to be happy again, to leave his father, or find another man. I began to shut my ears to him, and dread when it came time for him to come home. I knew he had my best interests at heart, but he was starting to make me miserable.
I noticed one day while he endlessly went on about my happiness that his body language had changed and he looked at me differently than he usually did. Usually he wore that careless look of young men but now he stared at me more intently. It made me uncomfortable; I had the odd feeling that I should cross my arms over my breasts as if to conceal them from his gaze. I started to avoid him, always making sure that I was doing something when he came home so that I couldn’t look at him.
The days passed and I grew more uncomfortable in my son’s presence. I didn’t know if it was because of his endless ramblings or if it was the way he looked at me, with a type of hunger in his eyes as if I were his pray and he was waiting to pounce. Most of my awaking hours were spent trying to figure out what had caused the change in my son. I was perplexed until the day that he made it known.
I was sitting on the floor, naked, my toys still spread out around me; I had just finished my last session of the day. I was panting, my body still racked in convulsions when I heard a noise. I turned my head to the source, the magnificent feeling that wrapped my body disappearing quickly as a ripple of fear went down my spine. “Who’s there?” I called out, my voice shaky. I held my breath and strained my ears to here a reply or any noise from the intruder. “Hello?” I called, my voice getting braver, a hint of annoyance in it. Then he stepped out, I gasped, standing there was not a neighbor or anyone else who might take delight in my show, but my very own son. My hands went instantly to my exposed bosom and I clasped my legs together tightly as my son stared at me. He said nothing but walked closer. I followed him with my eyes that were full of shame, and a little fear as he came closer. He was now standing inches away from me; I tried to speak, to tell him to go away and that I was sorry he had seen this but I couldn’t form any words. His hand came down and his fingers ran lightly over my cheeks. I turned my head away from his touch, tears starting to flow from my eyes as the shame of what my own son had seen set in. He wiped the tears away and finally spoke.
“I’ve been watching you Mom. Everyday now for the past month or so. After you’re done, I wait for you to go upstairs and I go to the den. I jack off with the images of you still fresh in my mind, fantasizing that it was me that gave you so much pleasure.”
“No Brad.” I had found my voice again.
“Yes, Mom. I started to lecture you on getting a man in hopes that you’d see that the man I wanted you to have was me. But you didn’t get it, or you pushed it off. I don’t know which one.”
