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."
She continued, "It's not my finding out that my son has the hots for me that got me angry, because I've known since way back that the thought of doing your mother had energized your libido. Nor that you copied private stuff from my computer, though that was not nice. But what upsets me the most is that now you know my secret, from your sneaky snooping and underhanded theft of files. Now you know that your old lady is Jocasta to your Oedipus."
"Oediplex."
"Yes! What about him, huh? How do you explain that?!"
"I am Oediplex. Mother, I... AM - Oediplex, I write those stories."
"You can't be! He's good! You failed Senior English in High School; you can't spell worth a damn. I've read Oediplex for years, he's my favorite author [note to reader: don't you cringe when authors do this?] just as Pandora's Box is my favorite erotic artist. The two always make me peak every time. That would mean that I... - ", her voice trailed off.
She drew out her conclusions in pronounced phrases. "That I have been turned-on to incest with my son... by reading my son's pornography... and then, I have been turned on by my son's own pornography that he wrote... I have cum imagining have sex with my son while reading his fantasies of having sex with me." She took a deep breath. "So you see that you can't be Oediplex. That would be too ironic, like some plot twist in one of your stories, I mean his stories."
"I can prove it to you, and I have a surprise for my number one fan too!" I knew that my proof would give her a thrill. I hoped it would lead to me giving her a thrill in a very special way as well. "Here, let me show you," I went and sat the computer, which was over on the other side of the room, "Look at this." Mom rose and came over to look over my shoulder. I brought up the rough drafts of three of my major stories. Then I showed her the Hotmail email responses which had sent in (praise mostly, some complained about my grammar and punctuation, mother was right).
"O God! My son is Oediplex!" she looked a little shaky so I got up and drew mom over onto the desk chair. When she was seated, I turned her back to the monitor.
"And now for your surprise!" I clicked on the link to my website and went to the pictures section. There my collaborative story, il-lust-rated by scores of Pandora's Box drawings and paintings on view to be read. I clicked on the title page: 'Slipping Into My Sleeping Mom' by Oediplex, il-lust-rated by Pandora's Box, layout by Joss; the words and art had the desired and expected effect on mom. She sat perfectly still, like she did every time something stunned her.
"You... you know Pandora? You're working with Pandora's Box? You and Pandora wrote a story together? Shit! Is that a hot ticket! That's a ticket I gotta ride. I can wait to read this when I get home!"
"Why wait? Read it now and tell me what you think, mom."
"No, silly, I want to read it in private so I can... enjoy... it... thoroughly. You know what I mean." She actually blushed.
"So you can masturbate, I understand. But mom, think how much more you would 'enjoy' the story if I, your own son, played with you as you became aroused, and who better to masturbate you to an orgasm as you read a story by both your favorite erotic author and favorite erotic artist, about the subject of mother/son incest? Who better to get you off than the author himself? Why not have some fun right here, right now, with me?"