My 18th had been a week earlier and I was still enjoying the buzz of being an adult. However, my grey-haired dad seemed to believe that it was his mission in life to ruin my enjoyment in favour of me getting on with my life the same way he had. He would be practically glowing with pride each time he told me about him getting a job with a local business at 16 and working his way up until he ran the place. Then, near bankrupting himself to buy the business from its previous owner, who promptly retired to the Caribbean, never to be heard from again.
My problem with this, besides my expected place in the continuation of his story, had to do with dad being a wreck. 49 years old, though not sick, he was physically and mentally exhausted. I did want that and he seemed see this as some kind of character flaw?
I was tired of arguing with him, of his superior attitude and stubborn refusal to see anybody else's point of view but his own. My frustration finally exploded.
'I don't want your life!' I told him angrily.
Only to realise almost immediately how much that hurt him. Guilt swamped me, he'd been on me over this for the last two years, it had all finally come to a head that afternoon in June and I wasn't the only one to blame! Not that he would ever see it that way.
My decision made, there is no way I could live in this house under his impossible rules. To begin looking for a flat, I needed money and not a penny would come from him. There was a local newsagent, where I occasionally worked part-time. Asking the manager, Martin if he had any extra shifts for me, hoping he could take me on full-time if I impressed him enough. It was just pure luck that someone was off sick. This was probably a short-term thing, but how else was I to start earning any money?
When I was at home, I tried to avoid Dad, which was easier than it sounds. He seemed to live at that business. Which often left mum fuming and feeling neglected.
Boxing up my things meant me living out of a suitcase. My resentment at his attitude was growing more and more every time I had to unpack to find clothes. There is no-one for me to talk to about this, it being the summer holidays all my friends were away with their families. Dad didn't believe in family holidays, I would be packed off to live with a relative while he and mum headed for Portugal. If I wanted a holiday, he told me, I could earn one.
My mum, Moira, was 38 and got admiring looks from every man she passed. She looked a lot like the actress Bree Turner. Gorgeous shoulder-length brown hair and big brown eyes with flawless skin. My hair is from her but cut much shorter and my blue-grey eyes are from her father. Neither she or dad knew where I got my 6 feet, 3 inches and stocky build from, as they have shorter slimmer builds.
One look in the mirror after a shower makes me briefly wonder if mum might have fooled around when she was younger. That gave me some very pleasurable speculation about her inclinations. My mum's sexy body had been the stuff of my masturbation fantasies for years. Imagined blow-jobs, anal, tit-wanks, even foot-jobs. Though my deepest-darkest fantasy was to 'do the deed' with her, to get my own mum pregnant. To watch as the passing month's causing her belly to swell with our baby growing inside. The shower titles have been white-washed over that one a lot!
Which brings me nicely to where it all began.
It was the day of the local street party. A business acquaintance (See: Rival) of my dad's paid for the food and drink, arranged music and dancing, the games and prizes; everyone was dressed in their best, enjoying themselves with kids running around laughing as they play their games.
Martin had told me he had no work for me today, so I was stuck at home leafing through the Flats Available ad's in the back of the local rag because dad pointedly pointed out that only people with a real job were invited.
I had no idea how long they've been away when I heard them in the hall. They were loud, which meant they were very drunk. I suppose it was dad's way of dealing with his business acquaintance showing off his success. Mum just enjoyed her red wine.
Too loudly, he told mum he was going to lie down but only made it as far as the living room couch. Mum wanted to be in her own bed. Our house is actually quite old, it belonged to dad's grandparents, for some reason I've never learned why the stairs are a tight wooden spiral. Mum got used to it over the years but she didn't really like them, as they sometimes left her dizzy. It was the case today, as the drink and the tight turns left her turned around so much that instead of the master bedroom, she came into mine!
I turned around at the sound of my door opening to see my mum enter unsteadily in a slinky blue cocktail dress and kick off her black high-heels. Completely oblivious to me sitting at my desk, she dropped her handbag on the bedside table to collapse into my bed.
Whatever way she landed caused a knee to cock up and the hem of her dress to roll up. It took me a shocked-delighted second to realise she was not wearing any knickers! The glistening slice of her pussy was clearly visible to me and the predictable happened! My cock was extending itself down my left pants leg like a length of hot steel.
My perfect MILF of a mum was laying on my bed, the loud snores from downstairs told me dad was out of the picture for hours and my cock started doing all my thinking. Rising to close the door and turn to the bed, it was a matter of a moment to undo the side-zip to roll the dress up her shapely body, revealing her bare breasts. Gently navigating her head and the gold chain that got caught in the rolls of fabric, I dropped it on the floor. At last, my sexy mum was naked on my bed. Slowly turning her on to her back brought her into a much more accessible position with knees bend and legs parted.
Any other son would have covered her in the duvet and gone back to the newspaper. All I can only tell you is that this was for me was the bucket-list moment of bucket-list moments! There she was, naked and available! Her flushed pink pussy-lips slightly open and inviting, and her too drunk to know. Given our normal circumstances, nothing could stop me taking this chance and her!
Her full round breasts were rising and falling with each breath and leaving me breathless. Leaning forward, my tongue circled the surrounds of her left nipple. She moaned in response. Her nipple popped up thick and hard, I applied my mouth to sucking and teasing. My cock was getting hotter and harder as I continued, only to feel something damp hit my leg where it was kneeling between hers. Looking down, I realised why her pussy looked wet! She was squirting! I grinned, my gorgeous mom was a squirter?!
I can only guess that while at the party with a few drinks on her, she had spotted someone attractive enough to get her a little hot and bothered? Whoever it had been, I sent out a silent thanks to the sterling work they had done.
This was simply too much! With her now in perfect position to be fucked, my clothes were thrown from me. My balls had never felt so tight, my cock so ready. Both knees between her legs, bracing myself with my left arm, my hand guiding the tip of my cock to the wet folds of her pussy. Instinct screamed at me to thrust hard, but that would wake her too soon! She could only wake to an orgasm caused by my sperm hitting her cervix and filling her womb to make that vital connection deep within her. The idea that she might not be fertile at this time simply never occurred to me.
