All characters in this story are at least eighteen years old. This is a re-post of a story and has undergone some editing for content. I recently wrote "Helping Mom" without realizing that this story was in my archives. This story is very similar to that one but more complete. Because of that, there will be no continuation of that story since this one is posted. I hope you enjoy this one better.
IT'S JUST A WORD
Dad left us years ago. He ran off with the "maid" he hired. We were both blind to what was happening. There was
just
enough being done in the house to make us not ask questions. Then, one day, they were both gone. I knew right away what happened, but it took Mom longer to figure it out. I don't know if she was genuinely ignorant of why he left her or if she was simply in denial. He never so much as picked up the phone to call me, either. Whatever issues he had with Mom were not my problem and I'll never understand why I was so easy to cast aside. Regardless, as the years passed, my anger toward him became deep rooted. Even if he called me today, I would wish him dead with every word he said and tell him as much.
Two years after he left, a lawyer showed up at the house with paperwork for her to sign. I wasn't home when he arrived, but I caught the aftermath. I later learned why it took so long for it to happen. For two years he paid the car notes and the mortgage without fail. I thought it was him being decent and caring. I thought that he cared for us, but simply preferred another woman as a companion. I could have perhaps seen past his actions and understood that mindset. That wasn't what was in his heart, though.
As soon as I turned eighteen, he sunk his claws in and destroyed us. I knew it was because I had turned eighteen. He knew child support would no longer be required of him. He also knew that he would not be putting out a single mother with a child to raise. He was free and clear of his financial and legal obligations of us and he took that moment to act.
The lawyer explained that she was being evicted from the house and the car was being reclaimed since her name wasn't on the note. When she asked questions, he explained that he wasn't at liberty to discuss details. He only told her that her failure to show up to court to fight for her rights was what enabled it all to happen. When she asked about the notice, she was told that she was notified via email and that was legal in our state. She tried protesting that she never received it, but her objections fell on deaf ears.
I arrived home to find her sobbing on the couch. She explained everything and said we had twenty-four hours to leave the house. The kicker was that he went through all that, apparently not happy wherever he was because within a week of us leaving, he moved into our house with his whore. He wanted the house so bad that he paid for it until he could legally reclaim it.
I did the best I could. I made some arrangements with friends and was able to get into a trailer at a local park and they helped me with some used furniture. Mom continued her job, but I quit college and started working to help get us back on our feet. I hated how everything happened, but I was motivated to make our lives better. I was a little delusional about how long it would take, though.
Three years passed and we were finally able to comfortably pay the bills and maintain an emergency savings account of our own. When we took over the trailer, we agreed to repair anything that needed it. It wasn't ideal, but we entered into the contract with those terms and were willing to endure whatever we had to to get by.
We were finally able to get a car after Mom's ruined credit recovered slightly and I established my own respectable credit rating. It had a decent warranty and we were prepared to utilize that car to its fullest potential. We would get up in the morning and Mom would drop me off at work then go to her own job. She would pick me up and we would go home at the end of the day and get our nightly routine underway. The car was used by both of us for every possible situation and I was glad to get the deal we ended up getting.
In hindsight, that seemed to be our saving grace. I don't know if we would have survived without that car. With that, we could begin a new, yet familiar routine.
She would start dinner, and I would get busy with weekly tasks like mowing the lawn, cleaning bathrooms or whatever else needed to be done. When dinner was over, we would play games or listen to music while we talked about our plans for the future. Sometimes we made up scenarios where we won the national lottery and would detail what we would do with half a billion dollars. Mom always surprised me with her answers to the question. She always wanted to give money away or start a business whose sole purpose was to help struggling people. It made sense, though. She never wanted people to struggle like she had.
That's how it went for three years.
In that whole time, Mom either never had time or never made time for dating. I call her out on that now since she could have easily dated without having to pay for anything. I, on the other hand, did not date. I couldn't justify the costs of it while we worked toward our future plans. We both remained single and took care of our own needs. At that moment, it was our financial and emotional support needs. All other needs were initially out of my purview. Our sexual needs, and very much my own, were not on my radar.
I never spared a thought about how Mom took care of herself in that way. It just never occurred to me. I felt as if she waited until I left the house to masturbate. The walls of the trailer were so thin that we could hear each other breathe in the next room if we listened close enough. That meant that noisy little toys would be out of the question. Though, with our savings plan, neither of us really had money to spend like that without saving for a bit.
I only figured out that she did that because I'm pretty sure I caught her cleaning up after herself a few times when I got home earlier than expected. It never bothered me, actually. I knew the relief that self-pleasure brought and was glad she had an outlet. I was proud of her when she told me she wanted to dip her feet into the dating pool.
"Good! I'm glad you're finally taking the leap, Mom. You deserve to be taken care of by a man who loves you."
She chucked and poked me hard on the arm, "What's
that
supposed to mean?"
I thought about what I just said and laughed loudly, "No! I mean you work hard for us, and I think you deserve someone who will treat you right and take some of the burden off your shoulders!"
She smiled warmly and told me she's been nervous about going out but that she was ready to give it a try. Time after time, though, she came back upset after failed dates. I knew she was getting frustrated and was ready to give up. It was the last date she went on that turned our lives upside down.
She had gone out to dinner with a man she met online, and they were supposed to get dinner and head to the karaoke bar. I had turned in early after mowing the lawn and showering. I don't know what time it was when I heard her creep into the house. She closed the squeaky door, and I heard her footsteps coming down the hall. I drifted back to sleep thinking she was just going to go to bed. Next thing I knew, she was climbing in my bed. I could hear her quietly whimpering.
"Mom, what's wrong?" I asked in a daze.
She didn't answer me. She wrapped her arm around me and buried her face in my neck and began to sob uncontrollably.
"Mom, are you drunk?"
She sniffled loudly, "I
wish
I was!" she cried out. "It's been years and all I want is a man to touch me, Jim. I just want to be touched. Am I that repulsive that a man can't bring me home and just--"
I didn't know how to respond. I could smell a bit of alcohol on her, but I was pretty sure she wasn't drunk. She continued venting her frustrations.
"Baby, I just need it. I need to feel a man again. It's been
so
long! I want to feel wanted!"
Her hand began to wander across my chest, and I questioned her state of mind again.
"Mom, do you know where you are?" I asked.
It was the only question I could think of at the moment. She was a little tipsy but not drunk as far as I could tell. She picked her head up but refused to look at me. She was clearly in a desperate state.
"I'm terrible for asking this," she said as she watched her hand slowly drift down my body.
"It's been so long," she whispered, "could I--"
She stopped speaking as her hand reached the waistband of my boxers. I knew what was on her mind, but I needed her to tell me what she wanted.
"Could we," she began asking, pausing again before saying it.
She couldn't bring herself to say it so I took over.
"Don't say anything," I told her as I moved to the edge of the bed. "Lay on your back here," I told her, patting the area where I just was. The bed was soft and I was confident that it would put her at ease about what I thought she was asking for.
She shifted over and I slid down to the end of the bed. I ran my hands up the outside of her legs and pushed her skirt up.
"Baby, you don't need—" she started before I interrupted her.
I thought it odd that she practically begged for what was about to happen then turned around and told me I didn't have to. I knew she wanted a man's attention and didn't particularly care who it was anymore.
"You have needs, Mom. I can take care of them for you tonight. I'll take care of them as long as you want me to."
Looking back, you would think I would have hesitated before I took our mother and son relationship into the deep end. I have a soft spot for women in distress. When it was my mother, though, there was nothing I wouldn't do. She did
everything
for me. It was high time I did something for her.
It's a lot for a son to do, isn't it? Well, perhaps sharing a bit about Mom might help you understand. She's a tall woman with naturally dark hair that's been died blonde. She purposely keeps the roots dark. Her eyes are a sparkling light brown, and her skin tone is just a few shades lighter than her eyes. She always touted the benefits of tanning; especially the part about it being free. Mom's breasts weren't very big but her gentle tan lines accentuated them very well. She also enjoyed wearing clothes that showcased them a bit.
I was able to easily visualize her as a woman and not just my mother. Her features took precedent in my mind over our relationship.
I got up on my knees and pushed my boxers down, allowing my hardening cock to bounce free. I reached down and put my hands inside the waistband of her panties and pulled them down and off of her. She lifted her butt off the bed to help me and I watched her hips move as she did. She was beautiful as I watched her body move to my will... to her will. She wanted what I wanted but while we both wanted the same thing; we never wanted each other until that moment. In that moment, though, we lost our minds. I wasn't her son, and she wasn't my mother... but that wasn't true.
