By the time I was in my second year of high school, my father had become a real son of a bitch. Demeaning, domineering, doing everything he could to sink the self esteem of his worthless son. Fortunately, my dad wasn't around that much; otherwise his habitual hazing would have driven me from home long before.
This was in the 1970's, when runaways could still find rides and unskilled jobs wherever they went. Not that I was unskilled; I got adequate grades in school, I was a pretty good carpenter's helper from summer work, and model construction had made me so good with fine work that I could fabricate about anything you could dream up. So running away didn't scare me. I would get by.
But it never reached that point; instead, Dad started spending more and more time out "on the road." Business trips here, business trips there until he was coming home only on the weekends, or sometimes every other weekend. It saved my sanity, but boy, you could feel the tension rise in the household as those weekends drew near.
So it came as no particular surprise one night when Dad announced his marriage was at an end and he was dumping Mom, and us.
"For the sake of the kids," he intoned, "we will be staying together until the kids are out of school. But the day Katie graduates from high school I am out of here and you can all go to hell."
Typical Dad. This wasn't something he and Mom had fought about and worked out. He simply decided it one day and announced it in the middle of dinner. Mom was as surprised as we were.
If any of you are thinking of doing this, of staying in a loveless marriage "for the sake of the kids" ...don't. It's a slow psychological torture for those kids. End it all and move on.
But not dear old Dad. He had four more years of abuse to drop on us before he moved on. 'Katie Graduation Day' shone in the distance like a beacon of freedom for all of us; probably for Dad too.
I will give this to the bastard; until that date, he and Mom actually were married. Fidelity he might not be able to manage, but the other obligations he could. Bills were paid, the mortgage knocked down, college funds were funded and tuitions covered.
Mom wasn't a doormat for Dad, either. She'd had notice; she knew her marriage was coming to an end, no matter how seriously she took it and her loyalty to her wedding vows. It was simply the relationship that was dead; the marriage was real until that four-year deadline passed.
So Mom threw herself into her preparations for the future, with the same commitment that she'd thrown into making us a home.
She immediately enrolled at the local liberal arts university, hitting her studies with such focus that by the time Katie graduated high school, Mom had completed her bachelors degree, a masters degree in Psychology and a good chunk toward her doctorate. Dad just blinked in befuddlement at the tiny tornado he'd unleashed and wrote the tuition checks.
Following her example, I buckled down in high school and then hit my studies at the same university with Mom-inspired seriousness. I never reached the academic heights that Mom achieved, but not from lack of trying. Katie's grades went up too. And Dad? He stayed safely away except for the occasional weekend. Life at home grew better for all concerned.
...
I assumed the relationship of Mom and Dad was dead and gone, but I found out otherwise about three years after Dad's announcement. I was taking a ten-minute break from my studies and wandered into the kitchen about eleven at night. The house was dark but the under-cabinet lights were on. I stopped, blinking.
"Mom? What are you doing?"
"Oh, Evan!" She jumped in surprise. "I didn't expect you..." She put her glass of water down on the counter.
"What are you wearing?" I asked, goggling. Instead of her short frilly nightdress, she was wearing a sheer negligee so transparent that it did nothing to block my vision of her. Her arms came up to cover her breasts, but not before I'd gotten a view of medium-sized breasts and big pink areolas.
Seen through the sheer panties, her bush was as curly as her head. She tried to turn away, but that just gave me a nice view of her cute buttocks.
"Why are you dressed like that?" I couldn't wrap my head around this version of my mom, blushing and obviously dressed for sex.
"Well, it is Friday night."
"What does that have to do with it?" A realization hit me. "Are you and Dad still...you know...after all this?"
Mom turned back toward me and my eyes fastened on her pubis, on the triangle of brunette curls between her plump thighs. "Now honey, we are still married. That means he still has certain...rights in the bedroom. And Friday is when he takes advantage of them."
She ducked her head and her blush deepened. "And...so do I. He uses me and I get to use him. However we get along doesn't mean we don't need to get together now and then."
I was seeing a side of Mom I'd never seen before...not to mention seeing her body as never before. This was Mom preparing to have sex. She was going to go into that bedroom and have that filmy negligee taken off her and then...
"Good night, Evan." She turned to go past me and her bare arm brushed mine. A thrill shot through me and I reached out, taking her wrists and turning her toward me. Her body glowed in the kitchen lights, full and round and soft. Perfect tiny nipples were centered in her big areolas, and a flush extended from her neck down between her breasts. A faint line of fine hair led down her tummy to a shockingly big mound, hidden beneath wispy curls. Her plump thighs were slightly parted and I ached to press my finger into those curls.
She was the epitome of earth mother, as potent and primal as the Willendorf figure. I had instantly gone hard and my boxers tented out toward her.
She gently pulled free from me and started up the stairs to the bedrooms. "Good night, Evan," she repeated. I watched her bottom rise into the darkness, struck speechless.
I should describe my mom. When I compare her to the Willendorf figure, I'm not kidding. She's a tiny thing, only about 5'2" and shaped like a beach ball. She has always had a big belly, even when she was young, but there's nothing flabby about her. Her legs are full and smooth, her bottom small and firm compared to her waist. She's soft and warm and I now realized, very, very sexy. A perfect earth mother.
Like Dad, I'm about six foot tall and Mom only comes up to my shoulder. My mind boggled thinking about how she and Dad managed to fit together in bed. But now I pictured her short little legs raised high, straining to hug his hips as he pushed into her big soft mound and warm, loving pussy, over and over again.
A memory came to me, one I had not thought of for many years. When I was about six, I'd gotten up in the middle of the night for something...a sound was coming through the open door.
I followed it down the hall, fear rising in me. A rhythmic sound filled the hallway; the sound of my parent's big bed being slammed and great gusts of air like a running horse. And under it all, my mother crying out: "Oh! Oh! Oh!" To my young ears it sounded like a giant gorilla was jumping up and down on the bed.
