I walked into my apartment and found my mother crying in my living room. Now, mom has a key to my place and sometimes she lets herself in to surprise her divorced son with a dinner, which I always was grateful for; though I would have eaten another sort of 'dish' of my mother's if my fantasies ever came true.
So I wasn't too surprised by her being there, but I was most concerned by her tears. I thought my father had upset her. I sat next to her on the arm of the easy-chair and went to hug her. But before my action was completed, mom slapped me, hard. Then burst into more weeping, with her hands in her face. I stood and put my hand to my face speechless. Mother mumbled something. "What?" I asked.
"How dare you! You have no right to have invaded my privacy that way! You should be ashamed of yourself! What do you have to say for yourself?"
I was now an adult and didn't rise to the mother/son conflict of power and judgment; so I calmly said, "Mother, I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about."
"You HACKED my computer, to look into my personal files. Then you down-loaded them to your computer. Don't deny it!"
"Mom, I didn't hack your computer. What the hell are you talking about?" To maintain my 'not your kid to boss around anymore' position I added a laugh the end of my reply.
"I went on your computer to check on a recipe for the dinner I was going to cook for you, and I found a picture that I know you got from my computer. It was on an imaging program which you left open and when the screen-saver disappeared, there it was, there we were, I mean the image looks like... You know the one I mean! How could you do that to your own mother?"
Now, things started to become clear and more confused. I knew the picture she was referring to. I had masturbated looking at it last night and must have forgotten to clear the file, not expecting company. But it was not something I had copped off my mom's Dell PC; it was a drawing that I had discovered by myself, well, with a little help from Joss.
It
was
of us, that is the lady and kid looked like my mom and I, of say ten or so years ago, when I was in seventh grade and Mom was a housewife with a comfortable life. Indeed I knew the picture well. It was by my favorite erotic painter, Pandora's Box. I have never seen more realistic illustrations (or should I better say il-lust-ration) of sex. But not just sex, mother/son sex, oh no. Youths and women; mothers with moist yearning pussies open to the touching tip of their son's horny hard-on. Pandora always made me cum.
The picture my mother was in tears about; the one of us (almost), on the very verge of my virginity's lost and her sanctity violated; was my favorite portrait by Pandora's Box, the world's finest incest artist. That painting was the picture that she admitted was on
her
computer. So I knew what she had thought I had snitched off her computer files. What was confusing was why my mother would have a picture of a mom and son, who looked liked us, and about to commit incest, who were close to full penetration - which was but moments away in the drawing. Why would she have that same image?
Unless of course, she had interests the same as I, interest in incest, mother/son incest, fucking me??? incest. Too good to be true. I decided to try to defuse the anger before exploring this revelation to a possible new facet of our relationship. "Mom, you're not the only one who knows about the beautiful il-lust-rations which Pandora's Box produces. I found that picture on my own. It is pure coincidence."
Mom looked up from her quiet weeping, anger flared anew. "There is nothing pure or coincidental about it. You can't deny the stories I found under folder name of 'Mother's Lover'. Once I discovered your perversion, I used the find-file function. How do you explain all the stories by Oediplex? Is he so well known? He writes some good stories, God knows he's made me cum, but he's rare enough that it can't be coincidence. You have every one of his stories as I do, even the funny poetry he writes. You had to take that from my PC!"
Now I laugh for real, (you know why). "Mom, his stories turn you on; make you cum? You have a picture of Pandora's that shows us fucking..."
"Not us, close, but not us, we never did anything like that. But it is uncanny."
"You read pornography by a guy that obviously is into mother/son incest, and admit to having an orgasm masturbating while reading it. Are you really bothered by the thought I got those files from you, which honestly I did not, and I will prove that to you; or are you more bothered by something else?"
"Like what," Mom's face trying to a simple sniffle.
"Like now you know my secret. My secret Oedipus Complex."
"Oh God! Sweetie, I've known about your fetish for years. You didn't think I wouldn't notice all the Beeline and Greenleaf books about motherfucking, conveniently tucked under your mattress for masturbation? I changed your cum stained sheets several times a week, after all. That's why it's your fault."
Now I was confused again.
Mom explained, seeing my expression. "It's no coincidence that I came to enjoy mother/son incest stories too. I read the books, well... the dirty parts you had the pages marked for, and I got turned on by your thinking about screwing me. I got turned on then also, thinking about
me
fucking you, and I haven't been able to stop fantasizing about it ever since. So it's your fault."