I managed to get in a few hours, which is nothing new to me. Like most drivers, I tend to split my sleep. It's an old habit that hasn't gone away. The powers back on and much of last night is little more than a blur. There's just one thing that I do remember and that's the one thing I wish I could forget.
I should feel something wrong after doing something like that with mom, but there's nothing negative that I can find within me. There should be guilt, shame, something. What the fuck's wrong with me? She's my mom and what we did was wrong in so many ways, but I can't find any sense of wrongness with our actions.
I groan as I get out of bed and I know she's still asleep. Coffee first, then put everything back that was stored outside. My knee is bothering me, but nowhere near as bad as it usually does. Perhaps I'm still a little buzzed, but I can't help to think it has to do with mom's handjob. Random thoughts can be a real bitch.
I start the coffee and make it a little stronger, since I can use the jolt. There are several beer cans that will be tossed later. Her bottle is mostly gone and I don't know if she opened a new one yesterday. Mom may have only had three glasses, but she's a lightweight and chances are she won't remember shit when she wakes.
The coffee tastes like shit, but it's strong and that's what I need right now. I finish the cup and throw on what I need to. I can see the paw prints from the raccoons that got curious, but they're long gone by now. The snow must have stopped shortly after we put everything out, since there's only about an inch sitting on the metal.
I brush it off and make quick work of bringing everything back inside. The snow's going to return and I don't want to be out there when it does. As the door closes behind me, I'm torn between another cup or putting things away. Either way, my knee feels like shit right now and won't be getting any better.
I decide to put everything away and make a quick job of it. Mom will organize later, unless the power goes out again. With a fresh cup, I stare out the sliding glass door and watch the snow start to fall. Glad I didn't wait, since I don't want to be out in that shit.
Mom comes out as I sit at the table and my jaw drops a little. She's wearing a robe that I've never seen. Her back is turned to me as she pours herself a cup and shouldn't be seeing so much of her slender legs. What she normally wears is something much longer and much less revealing. This one barely covers her ass and wonder if she's still drunk from last night.
Mom turns and smiles as she takes a sip, which shows just how strong it is. "Morning, Chris."
The robe is loosely tied and I can see her nipples peaking out. It's too early for me to say anything about it. If mom wants to dress like that, fuck it. All that matters is getting the rest of the cup into me and waiting for the pain in my knee to pass.
I take a sip and manage to bring my eyes up to her face. "Morning, mom."
She sits across from me and grimaces at the strong coffee, but doesn't go back to add anything to it. Her eyes are searching mine for something and I wonder if she's on the verge of apologizing for what happened between us. It was just a fucking handjob. No big deal.
She sets the cup down and her lips part as she speaks. "Listen, Chris, I need to say something and I need you not to interrupt me."
Her eyes show she's quite serious and I'm a little worried. Maybe she's been diagnosed with something and is about to tell me she's dying. Mom's only fifty, it isn't like she doesn't have a lot of time left. People get bad news from doctors all the time and age doesn't mean shit.
Rather than let my mind continue to wonder down some dark road, I nod and say, "Go ahead, mom."
She looks down a little sheepishly. "Good. About last night, I wasn't drunk. It takes more than a few glasses to get me shitfaced. I know you think I'm a lightweight, but far from it. I could probably drink you under the table."
I laugh, but keep quiet about the thoughts running through my mind. There's no way she can pretend to slur and stumble like that. If mom pulled that off, she should be in the fucking movies.
Her eyes move up to mine. "Fuck, this is hard."
Shitfaced I can ignore, but not fuck. What the fuck has gotten into mom. Maybe she really does have cancer and it's making her say shit she normally wouldn't say.
She takes a deep breath as she says, "Fuck it. Here it goes, Chris. I'm lonely. I'm tired of sleeping alone. I've been getting buzzed, not drunk, buzzed for a little liquid courage. Last night, I finally did it and I don't regret shit. You look a lot like your father and maybe that's why. You even have his dick."
I can't hold my tongue any longer. "What's this all about, mom."
She nods and says, "You're right. Might as well just come out and say it. I'm fifty years old and not exactly looking to meet anyone new. I have never been with anyone other than your father. I want you to sleep with me."
My jaw drops when I hear mom tell me that so bluntly. "Are you drunk, mom."
She shakes her head. "No, Chris, I'm very sober and I mean what I said. You don't go out much and I know you haven't been laid in a while. I know the closest since moving back was that handjob I gave you. I wanted you to know just how good I am. I'm glad you wanted me on my knees, since that shows desire."
I shake my head in disbelief. "It shows I didn't want you to open a fucking window."
Could mom be right? Why else would I have asked her to do that? Could have just as easily told her no deal, but I didn't. I let her give me a handjob and watched her spread my cum on her tits. Doesn't mean shit. Of course it does and I know it was more than a fucking handjob.
She smiles warmly and her voice sounds more feminine than I thought was possible from mom. "No, Chris, it shows you desire me and you know it."
Fuck, mom's right and there isn't shit that I can do about it. There's nothing about her that I should find appealing, but my eyes won't stop drifting down. She really isn't playing fare with that robe.
