The Usual Disclaimer: This is a work of fantasy. All characters featured in sexual situations are over 18. The characters in these stories are fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons living, dead or undead is purely coincidental. Do not try this at home.
* * * * *
It was the damned beard on that Santa suit. If it hadn't gotten in my mouth like it did, I SWEAR I never would have had sex with my mother, and opened that whole can of worms. I really thought I had a normal life, with a normal family until that happened. Well, "normal" is probably too subjective a term, and I've jumped way ahead of myself.
My name's Jeremiah, but I've been called "Jerry" my entire life. I was an only child, but I wasn't supposed to be. My dad was a high-powered executive and made lots of money. He had grown up in a big family, and he had wanted to have a big family of his own. Unfortunately, he had medical issues with his reproductive system that began right after I was born.
I was not aware of it at the time, obviously. I was just a baby, and nobody was comfortable talking about it. From what I have gathered, there were lawsuits and settlements involved, and non-disclosure agreements. It meant more money, but that wasn't what my parents had wanted. Instead of having younger siblings, I got all that extra parental attention lavished on me.
Sometimes that was a good thing, but I often felt smothered by my parents. It also felt like I grew up in my dad's larger-than-life shadow. He was brilliant, and funny, and he did everything well. He was also tall and physically imposing, but he managed to put everyone at ease. Everyone loved my dad.
Don't get me wrong--I love my dad. I felt like I never measured up to him and he had a tendency to take over anything once he got involved. It wasn't until I moved away from home to begin college that I understood my feelings of inadequacy stemmed from having such a strong male figure in my life growing up.
My mom was...
This is difficult for me to sort out, particularly after what happened over Christmas and what I learned afterward. I always thought my mother was the sweetest, kindest person I ever met in my life. Everyone thought so. She was also drop-dead gorgeous and still is. It was often a source of embarrassment for me growing up, because my friends would take one look at my mother and practically salivate because she was so hot.
I had thought my mother was "pretty" but I think most boys think that about their mothers. As I grew older and met more women who weren't related to me, I started to understand that my mother's incredible body was something special. Prior to that, I just assumed all women had enormous natural breasts and the curvaceous body of a centerfold, because my mother did.
By the time I was in junior high, I almost dreaded having my mother working in the school district. It only got worse when I got to high school, because she worked as an administrator in our school office. All the guys gushed about how hot she was, and often used the term "MILF" to describe her.
That was pretty fucked up for me. I felt like I had to defend her honor, but they hadn't really said anything overtly offensive. That took a while for me to figure out as well. They used the term "MILF" without really thinking what it stood for, while I couldn't stop thinking, "Mom I'd Like to FUCK."
The guys in my school weren't hitting on my mother, and did not try to have sex with her, but it bugged me that they stared at her, objectified her, and probably jacked off while thinking about my mom. The last two years I was in school, I was playing competitive sports, lifting weights, and I was one of the bigger and more imposing guys in our school. I didn't have to deal with classmates talking about my mom anymore because they were too intimidated to talk that way around me.
None of it seemed like that big a deal at the time. Sure, it was a little embarrassing, but I know I had it easy. Our family never had to deal with financial hardships, my parents never fought, and I had all the love and attention I could want, growing up. Then I was dating, working out, going to practice and games, trying to get good grades, and preparing for college. My parents were extremely helpful through all of it, and probably gave more insightful advice than most parents gave their kids.
Our house was also a hub of activity almost year-round. None of my other relatives lived in the same town, but they often visited for holidays and over the summer. We had a big house, particularly with just the three of us living there, so it made sense. Plus, my folks really enjoyed being involved in our neighborhood and community the way they were.
I knew most of my aunts, uncles and cousins fairly well and kept up on what they were doing. Christmas was a particularly big deal at our house, and my dad had a "Santa suit" that he wore every year, complete with the big white beard, so neighborhood kids could sit on his knee and tell him what they wanted for Christmas.
Later, I would find out that my dad occasionally paid for gifts those kids' families couldn't afford. I didn't find out from my parents. They kept their secrets well, and didn't want to embarrass anyone by letting it slip that one of our neighbors was in a financial bind. It was one of my friends' moms who let it slip following the holidays my senior year, after she'd had too much to drink.
If there was one issue that cropped up around our house, it was people having too much to drink. That was particularly true over the holidays. I started drinking when I was 15, because there was some really tasty, fruity alcoholic punch and nobody noticed me drinking it. I enjoyed the buzz, but I was trying to be sneaky since nobody had told me I could have any of it. Four or five times I wound up getting really drunk to the point of passing out, but I don't know if anyone noticed.
Other people occasionally got inebriated and caused a scene. That might be one or two of our relatives, a married couple from our neighborhood, or old family friends. Most memorably, my Aunt Marsha got really drunk one Fourth of July and started giving lap dances to guys who weren't quick enough to get up out of their seats in the living room. She was my mom's older sister. Her husband was also drunk, and he was amused at first. I was still pretty young when it happened and I didn't catch everything, but they got into a screaming match in our back yard that evening.
Everyone was embarrassed about it afterward, but my parents smoothed everything out. Later it would become a running joke within our family. Four of my older male cousins got a lap dance from Aunt Marsha after they turned 18. That was most embarrassing for Rick, because Aunt Marsha was his mom! I thought it was hilarious at the time. Two years later, I got my own lap dance from my sexy aunt, and it was my turn to be embarrassed. She gave me a wicked grin after she felt my cock swelling to life beneath her sexy bottom.
That experience would stick in my "spank bank" for a while, but I figured it was a harmless fantasy and that there was no chance I'd ever have sex with any of my attractive female relatives. Plus, I dated all through high school. It wasn't like I was some blushing virgin when my aunt gave me that lap dance.
* * *
I remained in the same state for college, but it was a long enough drive that I didn't go home every weekend. I had not earned any athletic scholarship offers, but I did have a couple of academic scholarships and I'd applied for and received several grants. My parents weren't paying anything for my schooling, and they were pleased about it. It wasn't about the money; they were proud of my initiative and the independence I showed by handling my own finances.
I really wanted to play football, though, and tried to "walk on" after my senior year of high school. I did not quite make the final cut, but I was invited to join the practice squad. It meant that I was playing, really hard, every practice, and that I was going up against the team's starters. Those guys were amazing athletes, and it was all I could do to keep up. I figured that was as far as my college athletic career would go, but I'd tried my best and was happy just to be playing football.
Much to my surprise, I actually got complimented by several of the starters, and by the defensive coaches. The first time it happened, I was shocked our star quarterback even knew my name. I usually felt so beat up after those practices that I didn't notice the respectful looks I got from my teammates. I also did not notice how much muscle mass I was packing onto my frame or that I was actually getting faster.
The coaches certainly noticed. From the very first play I was on the practice field, they had taken note of the effort I gave, even though I barely managed to drag down the running back after fighting off a block. Due to my intense class schedule, I had to come in for film study at odd hours.
At the time, I figured it would count against me, since I wasn't there when everyone else was watching film with the coaches. There wasn't really any way I could avoid it without missing a lot of classes.
What the coaches saw was a hard-working guy who came in and studied film for hours each week, when everyone else was long gone. It made a very good impression. I'd also told them I was putting in weightlifting sessions in the main student gym, because I could get in there for quick workouts between classes. I only said it so they wouldn't think I was slacking off and not lifting weights. They saw it as initiative on my part.
What most impressed my teammates was that I was comfortable talking to attractive women on campus, and that I easily made friends with some smoking-hot women. That was what got their attention initially, but then they realized that I was becoming a much better player after weeks of those intense practices.
I was really getting the hang of our defensive scheme, but for some reason I was able to quickly copy the tactics and skill set of starting players on our upcoming opponents' defenses. Maybe that was because I was watching that film on my own and was more focused on watching the guy playing my position.
Right after our seventh game of the season, our starting running back came up to me and put his arm around my shoulder. "Jerry," he said, grinning and shaking his head, "I gotta tell you, I had a harder time getting past you in practice than I did their 'all-star' starting linebacker. I really hope you make the team next year--so I don't have to face you in practice anymore!"
He laughed hard and slapped my shoulder before walking away, but after my grin faded I realized that might have been as big a compliment as I ever received in my life. I figured there was no chance I'd ever be a starter for our defense, though. Our starting linebackers were incredible physical specimens and gifted athletes who all had pro careers ahead of them. Even the second and third-string linebackers were awesome, which was why I hadn't made the team. Still, it was nice to be noticed.
* * *
I was so busy that I missed a lot of the attention I got those first two months of school. I was taking seventeen credit hours, because two of my classes had labs. Twelve hours was considered a full course load, and most of the starting football players were taking fewer classes than that. I was just as focused in the classroom as I was on the football field, but I was paying more attention to the professors and their lectures than I was to the other students around me.
When girls would talk to me, particularly during the labs, I didn't think that they were coming on to me. Well, at first I didn't get it. It wasn't that I was oblivious. I still had a lingering crush on the last girl I'd dated in high school, and two other girls I'd dated remained "friends with benefits." The first two weekends after the semester started, I had gone home and gotten laid. When I was back at college, it felt like I was in constant motion and barely had time to talk to any of the girls I knew for more than a few minutes at a time.
There was also the issue of several of the girls I knew who had boyfriends back home. They often spoke of their boyfriends at length, and I understood they were making it clear that they weren't looking for a new boyfriend. I respected that, and didn't try to hit on any of those girls.
What I didn't understand was that they usually talked about their boyfriends while other guys were within earshot. They weren't trying to dissuade me as much as they didn't want those other guys to see us talking and get the wrong idea.
So, whenever these college girls talked to me or joined me for a lab, I assumed they actually wanted my help with the material or the experiment, and then I surprised them by showing how well I understood everything we were doing.
