AN:
...Once more.
"See you later, babe." He pecks me on the lips and drives off.
Seconds later, my boyfriend disappears from my thoughts as I stand in front of the house I've lived in all my life; anxious and aroused.
It's 2am.
I was supposed to be home hours ago as per the agreement. Being late by a couple minutes would've been bad enough, but hours?
My heart races and my panties are soaked.
I don't even try to move silently as I walk up to the front door, stopping every other second.
Just open it, you bitch! This is what you've been waiting for all week.
Indeed. Now that the moment's here, I start thinking that maybe it wasn't the best idea... Not that it matters. I've thought that way after every stunt I've pulled the last few months.
Taking a deep breath, I needlessly mess with my keys and unlock the door, certain that the noise didn't go unnoticed.
"That you, Erin?" A voice calls from the living room. Lights bleed out into the hallway, no doubt from the T.V.
Okay. Here we go.
I try to calm my heart and work up a little courage.
"It's me, Dad." I say, entering the room.
He looks ruffled. Probably just woke up.
"You're late. What happened to your promise of nine o'clock?" My dad asks in a sleepy voice while rubbing his eyes.
"I'm sorry... I just..." Words escape my mouth, but my mind's somewhere else.
Where is she?
Upstairs? But no way she'd just leave him sleeping in front of the T.V.
"You don't have to worry about your mother." Dad says. He switches off the T.V and heads to the kitchen.
"I... I don't?" I ask, following after him.
"Nope." He downs a glass of water. "She got a call about work. Someone made mistakes and she has to clean it up, apparently."
"On a Friday night?"
My father looks at me confused. Must've noticed the slight frustration in my voice.
"You know how she is about work. But shouldn't this be good news for you?"
"I... Yes. Good news." I say, forcibly trying to calm down. "Great, in fact."
Staring at me for a few more seconds, he smiles. "Your lucky day, I guess. I won't breathe a word to her, so you should be safe."
"That is..." I quickly hide behind a fake smile. "Thanks, Dad."
"No problem. There's pizza in the fridge, but..."
For a moment he looks like he wants to say something else, but is conflicted.
A good five seconds later, he shakes his head.
"We'll talk tomorrow. Anyway, good night honey."
He disappears down the hallway.
"...night."
I
should
be worried by the resigned look on his face before he left, however my mind is far from that.
For a few minutes I just stand there, moping in annoyance and disappointment. Maybe it's better this way? Feeding into this sickness even more is fucked up. More fucked up than my eighteen-year-old brain already is.
I rub my thighs together and clench my teeth, enduring a sudden surge of horniness as I think about what could've been... exaggerating the possible outcomes. My mother will find out one way or another. It just would've been more... intense, if we had our bout tonight instead of tomorrow.
"Silver lining, I guess..."
If she had to go out, that means she had to have taken a bath beforehand. Cleanliness being one of her virtues. That being the case...
I make my way over to the stairs and listen.
Nothing.
Good. He's probably asleep.
I sneak upstairs, ignoring the mirror by the landing.
The bathroom light chases away the darkness and illuminates my prize.
"You need help."
Even as I uselessly berate myself, I still move toward the laundry bin, a slave to desire. My breathing and heart rate skyrockets and my body heats up.
There's probably a special place in hell for people like me. Perhaps I should be locked up somewhere...
It might not be too late...
I laugh at the last remnants of guilt my conscience tries to throw at me. Such trivial thoughts no longer sway me. I'm too far gone...
With my prize in hand, I rush towards my bedroom and lock the door. If anyone saw what I'm about to do... My father... My mother...
Oh yes... My mother...
I raise her panties to my face and breathe in deep, moaning in ecstasy as the faint odor of her pussy invades my nose. A little sour, feminine, raw... She must've worked out today.
It's impossible to grow tired of her smell. On the contrary, every whiff drives me more and more wild.
Falling onto the bed, I unceremoniously tear off my jeans and panties. I bite my lip, holding back a moan as I rub my mound, dragging my fingers through the drenched folds.
"Fuck..." I say, licking the juice from my fingers, imagining it belongs to my mother.
Rolling over, I grab last week's prize from under my pillow. Always two at a time that magically come and go. Maybe she hasn't noticed. Maybe she has.
I run the older panties across my wet pussy. Once. Twice. Then I stuff them into my mouth, relishing the taste.
The latest catch is held against my nose and my other hand moves across my small perky breasts, squeezing one gently, then the other.
Mom...
Electricity jumps from my erect nipples as I pinch them relentlessly.
Mommy...
My hand travels downward...
Heart pounds like crazy and sweat pours from my overheating body.
What would she say if she saw her daughter now?
Two fingers slip into my needy slit. Normally I'd tease and work myself up, but not today.
Without further ado I pump them in and out, thumb pressing hard against my engorged clit. I moan deliriously as waves of bliss stabs into my brain and drowns me, my breathing growing shorter and shorter.
It feels so fucking good!
I picture my mother getting me off, insulting me, looking at me with disgust.
She'd be wearing her work clothes; black heels, nylon stockings, dark pencil skirt, a white blouse, and lastly those square frame glasses...
The squelching from my pussy is loud in the otherwise silent room. If my mouth wasn't filled, I'd be screaming and begging for my mother...
Those perfect feet, athletic calves, thick thighs, her wide matronly hips, tight waist, large succulent tits... Her almond shaped brown eyes that narrows and easily turns into those of a hawk, looking down at her prey... Thick lower lip...
Yes, yes, yes, fuuuuuuuck!
A bolt of lightning shoots from the base of my neck, frying my nerve endings... There's another explosion from my crotch where I have four fingers plugged in and my thumb crushing my hard clit...
My hips rise from the bed and my toes curl in delight.
I shake my head and bite down on my mother's panties as the orgasms take me. My breathing stops, and my cunt squirts endless fluid onto my hand, splashing down on the bed. The smell of my mother's pussy becomes more acute as I press the cloth tighter to my nose.
Little thorns travel all over my body, and I feel like screaming. I roll around and ride wave after wave of pleasure. The ability to think, gone.
It's only an eternity later that I come back down, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. I remove the panties from my mouth and mindlessly lick my hand clean, lethargic and barely able to move.
"Fuck it..." I say, resigning myself to sleep in my own filth and take care of it in the morning.
As I slowly start regaining sanity and my libido hands over control--guilt and regret... is not what attacks me.
No.
The time for those feelings has long since passed. I think it was after the tenth--no, the twentieth? --time that I lost those feelings.
Now I'm just in a near constant state of arousal. A hunger that neither my so-called boyfriend, nor I, can ever sate.
This sexual attraction--oh, who am I kidding--sexual obsession with my mother started on the day we'd had our worst argument. I can't even remember what it was about or who started it, but my mother had ended it.
A hard slap to the cheek.
Oh she apologized over and over, but the damage was done. I'd discovered a new aspect of myself that day. Instead of anger and hurt that was supposed to follow...
I'd had a light orgasm.
Fucked up is putting it mildly.
We'd never really gotten along like so many other parents and children. Maybe it was my mother's bossy nature, trying to control every part of my life... Maybe it was my hormones, teenage rebellion, insecurities...
Or maybe it was a cocktail of all the above...
As I slowly caress my body, I'm reminded of our differences. Where she's curvy, thick and sexy... I'm slender and cute, a blossoming flower as it were.
I sigh.
How long will this go on?
Logically, I need to let this die. Go on with my life.
"I can't..." The words slip out as a whimper, tears pooling in my eyes.
"No! Self pity doesn't become you..." Squeezing my eyes shut, I lament the fact that I don't have a closer bond with my mother.
At this point all I know how to do is piss her off. And that turns me on.
I don't know if this was always buried in my subconscious, awoken by that slap. Or perhaps the only time she looks at me--
really
looks at me--is when I make her angry.
Isn't that a common tactic of children craving attention...?
Yes. It's her fault for always choosing work over me, not...
I laugh out loud as I recognize my mind trying to shift blame, attempting to protect my psyche.
A feeble move.
I already know what I am. No use lying to myself.
My hand cups my mound and I reach for the panties again...
Will this ever stop?
Do I even want it to?
******
"Fuck... Me..." I groan as the blinding sun pierces my eyes. There's a dull ache in my lower back and the smell of sex hangs heavily in the air.
Sigh.
Just another Saturday morning.
I sit up for a few minutes collecting my bearings.
This is my life now.
Masturbating to someone I can never have...
Keeping up a rebellious act to get her to notice me... So we can argue because that... gets me off? Fuck, I'll leave that for the spirit of Freud to deconstruct.
Another deep sigh later, and I slip on some pajama pants and a navy-blue tank top. Next, I slowly start clearing the bedsheets.
The window creaks a little as I open it, letting out the pungent air and bringing in a fresh morning breeze.
Morning?
The sun is a little too high for...
