She brought me more water, and smiled. She had a rum and coke.
“Daniel?” She asked, holding the glass at my chin. “Please spit in it.”
I did. “Mum?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Your face is a mess.”
She drank her drink. She sat back and again opened her legs to show me her panties.
“Son?” She asked. “I don’t think I can ever kiss you.”
“That’s okay, I guess.” That was all I could say. Kissing was farthest from my mind.
“Why, Mum?” I interjected.
“Your father. I used to vomit on his cock when it was in my mouth. Then he would kiss me.”
“Gross!” Said I.
“Then he would kiss me and swirl my puke inside my mouth. He liked it, I didn’t. Made me want to vomit again. I puked in his mouth a few times. I think he liked it.”
“Wow he was gross!”
My Mum scratched at her cheek, and looked at her nail. Dried up sperm. She put it to her mouth and sucked on it.
“Want another drink, babe?” She asked.
“No! HA! I gotta piss like a racehorse!”
“That’s my plan, son!”
“What is your ‘plan’, Mum?”
She lay back, and wiggled her head between my thighs. She was lying back, looking at me right in the eye.
“Daniel?” She asked, her head in my lap, body strewn along the couch.
“Yes Mum?”
“Do me a favour?”
I looked down at her face. It was smudged and smeared.
“Spit on me?”
“Pardon?” Was all I could manage.
“Make me wet again.” She requested.
I spat on her face. Dripped slowly from my mouth. My saliva fastened itself along the bridge of her nose. She was a mess!
“Son?” She asked.
“Yeah?” I answered.
“You have phlegm?” The question hung in the air like a stench. Even I was getting turned off.
“Why Mum?” I asked, a puzzled look on my face.
She sat upright, all of a sudden full of energy. Like an excited schoolgirl in her plaid skirt, she sat crossed legged on the couch.
“I want you to mess up my face as much as you can, then I want you to clean it off. Your dad used to make me a mess, and he liked it. I want you to make me your mess. I want to do this for you. Then you can clean me.”