Christmas
November quickly turned into December, and it got colder. The house was poorly insolated, so sometimes, I had to hang blankets on the door to the laundry hall so it would keep the heat in. I'm glad my mom wasn't sleeping there. She used to, before it was just the two of us. We had attempted to bring in a little extra money by having someone rent the room in the kitchen, and since the laundry room bedroom was the coldest room, my mom took it. Of course, I had to make sure to hang the blankets. She wasn't going to do that.
Nothing had changed since our thanksgiving fling. Nothing. She was still demanding, we still didn't spend even a moment together if we could help it. The cats were allowed to eat off the table, and mom and I would retreat to our separate bedrooms to eat during meals when we were both here. The living room had only been used that thanksgiving day. Now it sat there, gathering dust again. Cats free to climb all about the furniture. But if all these walls could talk.
It looked like the only one that had changed was me. I felt so strange. My mother had counted on the fact that when I got drunk, I'd forget what happened to me. I would lose control like some of those girls on freaky movies that get raped after drinking too much. And she was wrong. Drinking wine only enhanced my horniness. I didn't keep my balance very well, but I did remember where and who I was.
And my mom had had sex with me that night.
It's funny. Since that June, after I'd heard her masturbating so loudly, I wondered who it was about. I wondered now if it had been me she had been thinking of. And I also wondered what sparked her sexual desire for me. Were we spending too much time together? Should I think about moving out? I needed a girlfriend of my own. Of course, now, all I did was go on my laptop to find videos of mothers and daughters fucking each other's brains out, like mom did to me that night.
Sometimes I got so horny thinking about it. But I had no desire to masturbate. I was a little prudish when it came to sex, and I guess not having someone else there made me feel uncomfortable with pleasuring myself. As if by having someone else there, it made my pleasure valid. This was different. Being alone and masturbating was forbidden to me. I don't know why. But thinking of her got me so hot.
When I did think about our little affair, and I wasn't horny, I often wondered why she had done that to me. Why she had had her way with me like that. I was her daughter for crying out loud. Was she mentally ill beyond my scope of help? Or was she sane? I had consented. So was I sane, or was I mentally ill? I wanted to think we were just two lonely, horny ladies who really wanted to get off that night. We had talked about boyfriends, girls, sex, and one thing had led to another. That was all. But she had let it get so carried away.
And the way she expressed herself. Moaning and saying such naughty things. It seemed like she was enjoying herself. So why stop? Or why not just talk about how we both felt? Was she scared? Was it just her and I having sex, or did we actually make love? If we did, what could that mean for our relationship? Maybe, if I loved her like she wanted to be loved, whatever she was thinking in her mind would vanish. She would no longer try to be such a know-it-all, or bossy or just all-around bitchy to people. Including me. Maybe I was her reason for leaving the drugs and wine. Well, no. Maybe not the wine. She had been so hot and horny that night. If I were to continue having sex with her, I'd want her to be just like that. If it took her getting drunk to do it, I say go for it.
What was I thinking? Did this mean I wanted a relationship with that woman? I hated her mannerisms. The way she was quick to yell when she didn't get her way. The way she lounged around the house and didn't really do much, leaving me to do all of it when I came home tired from work. The way she just thought she knew better than everyone. But her body, even for an older woman was so sexy. So arousing when I thought about it. She was good in bed. I like going down on her, and I liked it when she'd gone down on me. And the way she was so taken with my breasts. I liked it. Feeling her hands all over them, and her mouth. I think if she had a dick, she'd fuck them. The way she expressed so much joy at spanking my ass like that. She'd also promised me a sixty-nine, and a turn to worship her breasts. And believe me, I wanted to do it. I loved her body. So what was the deal?
I had a life to lead. I had work to be doing, and Christmas was coming up soon. So I'd just have to put it out of my mind.
Things resumed as usual that Christmas Eve. We got into three different fights, one where she actually yelled as loud as I've ever heard her yell, and told me that I was being ungrateful. That I needed to get my act together if I wanted to keep living there. So what was wrong that night? She kicked me out of the kitchen and I wasn't allowed to help at all for Christmas dinner. So I went shopping.
It was hard to shop for her, so I shopped with her in mind. I got myself a sexy night gown that was see through, and a lacy pair of panties. If she wanted me again this Christmas, I was going to have her in awe at how good I looked. I even measured myself and got myself a push up, like I imagined she liked. The nightie was low-cut, so she'd see my breasts pretty well. I think they'd be the first thing she'd notice. I also got a really nice lipstick that would make me look really good. I was not going to be caught off guard today.
I got her a case of cigarettes, as I knew she was already almost out. And I got her a bottle of wine that she'd like. I honestly didn't need to, she'd be well stocked on wine. It was the cigarettes she needed. But it was Christmas Eve and she was too busy with the dinner. I wondered if that was why she was so cranky. I saw the case in the recycling box that morning.
When I got home, she was in the shower. I went into her room, and saw the bed wasn't made. I put the case of smokes where she normally had them next to her dresser, and I hoped she'd notice. I hoped she'd be thankful.
We ate dinner in silence pretty much. She didn't say sorry for all the fighting. She had noticed the smokes. She had smoked a pack before dinner. That's why we found ourselves in silence right now, I'm guessing. She didn't know how to say thank you. She wondered if I wanted something in return. Well, I did, but only if she did. Otherwise, I just got her the smokes just because.
"If you want, I'll get started on the dishes today." I said breaking the silence.
"No. I'll do them." She said softly. "I..., well, let's say it's payback for the smokes you got me. I was pretty cranky. I guess that's what I was missing." She said bitterly.
That was as close to an apology as I was going to get. So I didn't push it.
"I'm going to do them tomorrow." She said softly.
"Do you have the day off tomorrow?" she asked looking hopeful."
Yes." I said hopefully as well. "It's weird. I have tomorrow off, and I work from the twenty-sixth to the thirty-first. Then the first is national hang over day, and I have that off." I said sighing. "Our schedule is weird."
"Yeah. Sounds like it." She said as she finished her plate.
"It was good food, mom. Thank you."
"Yeah. Sure. It was all right."
"I'm going to go shower and change into my pajamas." I said sighing.
