Chapter 1
It took me almost ten years, but I finally got my PhD in Clinical Psychology. It was either computer science or psych. The choice was obvious: I grew up in a dysfunctional family. I tried to understand my mother and why she and dad fought all the time. It wasn't like my dad fooled around on the side, because he didn't. He dragged himself home after work, climbing the hall stairs that led into our kitchen. And we'd be sitting at the kitchen table, dinner being served. Mom said dinner was at 5 PM, and everyone started eating at 5 PM. If you were 10 minutes late, too bad. People were eating. We kids were washed up and ready to eat. But I knew there'd be a fight and I didn't have much appetite.
You would probably call our family lower middle class. It wasn't good manners to scream at the dinner table. It wasn't acceptable behavior to insult each other, and Mom would call dad a momma's boy, and my father would lay into me. "Get your hair out of the soup!"
My mother was tense all right. That means she couldn't wait until Dad started eating before she'd lay into him about us kids, and how the police came to the house every day looking for my brother, George. She complained Dad's take home pay wasn't enough to feed the family properly.
There was just myself, and George. I was the oldest and her favorite. George was a misfit she said, he was always getting into trouble with the police. A few years later George was committed to a mental institution for exposing himself on a public beach.
When I was a freshman in college, my biggest problem was paying my college tuition. Working in a supermarket wasn't enough. I had no car because Mom told me girls cost money so why own a car? Therefore I walked to school; anyway, the university was not far from our home.
One day, Mom had just come back from picking up her diet pills at the drugstore. Without any fanfare she said to me, I was standing at the bus stop and this guy said to me, "Lady, you got me by the balls..."
I couldn't tell from the tone in her voice whether she was bragging or complaining. Mom liked to dress up to go out. Going to the drugstore was a big deal to her. She wore scoop neck blouses and tight skirts. And she sported a massive cleavage. Her boobs were up and out there. But it was just mom, and I didn't think twice about it. As far back as I could remember guys were feeling her ass and making lewd comments. When you're a kid you don't pay attention to stuff like that.
After I turned eighteen, I began paying more attention to my mom's figure. True, she did have big tits, and her thighs were curvy and smooth and her backside was round and plump. But, Christ, she was my mom and mothers were supposed to look like that. Besides, her sisters looked like that too.
When I got out of the shower naked and dripping wet, my mom always seemed to be hovering close by. We did not have a large bath room, so she usually sat on the toilet pissing while I toweled down. When I attempted to cover myself she always said, "I'm your mother, you can't hide it from me." If I had to guess, she was encouraging me to wave my dick in her face.
She appeared to be getting bolder and when I had my 19th birthday she really wanted to check me out. I mentioned to her I might want to enlist in the Marines and she didn't answer. I could tell she was upset.
"What are you going to do with this thing?" she asked one morning after I showered. She knew I was a virgin because I didn't have a girl friend because I didn't have a car. Girls didn't want to go out with a guy who doesn't have a car. She also mentioned that the Marines might think I was queer because I was a virgin. She was clutching my half-hard wiener and shaking it to emphasize her question.
Chapter 2
She liked to call herself Paulina, but her name was Gilda. She had been reading her Bible for over an hour. She was 38 years old and was brought up to honor her father and mother. It was somewhere, she forgot where, but it was in there.
Sometimes she put too much value on titles, and called herself 'your mother'. Especially when she talked to her son.
She was looking for a message, some scripture that would jump out at her. The passage where Jesus fed thousands with just two loaves of bread and some fish, and it made her hungry. She always talked about losing weight, but she'd always be a size 12, real curvy.
The throbbing in her pussy made it almost impossible to concentrate on the words. And when her pussy throbbed, it reminded her of her worthless husband, Al. They had a son, whose name was Larry, which was me.
Larry was an All-American boy. He played football, baseball, and was on the Dean's List at college. He didn't date much because his coach told him about girls sapping his strength, and that jerking off wasn't good for running. So he tried to keep his mind off sex. Especially the sorority girls at school.
Taking cold showers would help, coach told him, but when Larry stepped out of the shower, he was squeaky clean with a ripping boner.
Larry wasn't like most normal teenagers who would freak out if a woman exposed herself to him. He was precocious in that he had a natural curiosity in the workings of a woman's body. Not a girl's body, but a woman's body. He spent hours at the university library pouring over books on anatomy and how a vulva worked and even the miracle of childbirth. Whereas guys at the gym had magazines on nutrition and building muscles, Larry's locker contained worn copies of Penthouse and Playboy.
In a sense, you could say Larry had the ideal mother. Paulina wasn't like other mothers. Paulina's cunt had a rich dusky pink color, which glowed warmly under the shade of the glossy silken bush that covered her sex.
Paulina kept her figure, watched what she ate, and enjoyed the attention she got when she went to church. Yes, she was spiritual, but spiritual women are also very passionate -- hot blooded would be a better description. She was medium height, a size 12, and was curvy, especially in the hips. Her thighs were a bit thick, and made her skirts hug her ass. Her breasts were heavy and her nipples very sensitive, especially when she got in the spirit.
Paulina felt Larry understood her mood swings, especially during her monthlies, and sometimes she felt she was being unfair to Larry. She knew she was a temptation, since he was nineteen and she knew, no matter what coach told him, he jerked off at least 3 times a day. Moreover the blouses she wore at home were always too tight and Larry could see a lot of tit flesh, and she smiled, knowing she still had lots of sex appeal.
It was an auspicious Thursday. Maybe reading the Bible downstairs would calm her nerves. Larry was in the living room now, Paulina knew, reading a magazine that had just arrived in the mail. She donned a pale pink t-shirt that clung enticingly to her big, pointy braless tits. Then she selected a paisley mini-skirt, the shortest one in her wardrobe.
A change of scenery, Paulina thought, as she put on the skirt and admired her reflection in the mirror. No, I'll just be giving him a little peek. Paulina giggled softly as she left the bedroom, her pussy throbbing so wetly that she could hear the female juices squishing in her cunt as she padded barefoot down the hall.
"Hi, Mom," Larry said, glancing up as she entered the living room. He was sitting in his favorite easy chair, reading the latest issue of a hot rod magazine. He was a tall, muscular boy, with his mother's red hair and a naturally engaging grin. Paulina forced herself not to stare at the appetizing young cock bulge in his tight jeans.
"You don't mind if your mother sits and reads with you, do you?" Paulina said. She was careful to sit on the sofa directly opposite him. "Honestly, I've been so busy today. I haven't even had a chance to read the paper."
"Go ahead. I'm done with it." Larry grinned. "I just finished the paper -- sports page anyhow."
