Pharaoh’s Curse

Thanks to WAA01 for the editing.

******

Andrew McCain stood in the airport with his father and his new wife who were taking a very long summer honeymoon. They had been dating for the past three years of his eighteen-year-old life. Not that he didn't like the woman that his father had married, Wilma was quite the lovely lady. She brought happiness to his father. Andrew couldn't ask for more. After his own mother left them for some high fancy museum job eight years ago he had hated her for it as he always saw the sadness in his father's eyes. So, when Wilma came along he was the first one to congratulate his father on finding the woman that brought joy back into his life; and in time Wilma started to feel like a mother to him. So, when they told him that they were going to take a world cruse he was elated for them. Not so much when his father told him he would have to stay with his mother while they were gone. Not that his father didn't trust him to be on his own for a weekend, which had happen a number of times. His father wasn't about to leave his teenage son in a house all alone for two and a half months.

"Come on Dad, I don't want to go to Egypt," Andrew groaned as the overhead lights played along his dark red hair that he had inherited from his mother.

"It'll be over before you know it," Wilma said, flashing him that motherly smile, which she had honed to perfection. Her grey eyes peered at him through her frameless glasses, her light brown hair bounced softly on her shoulders. Andrew knew; while yes, she did wear the minimal amount of makeup, Wilma never needed too. She was just that beautiful. He wouldn't openly admit it to anyone, but he did masturbate to her on a semi-regular basis as her perky right 36B breast pressed against his father's left arm. Her slender arms rested in the nook of his elbow, the light glinting off the ten-carat diamond of her engagement ring. Andrew knew being a kindergarten teacher she had married up due to his father running one of the top advertisement firms in New York. Not that Andrew held that against her. He was glad they had found each other.

He just didn't want to spend his summer with his mother; a mother, he might add, he hadn't spoken to for eight long years. After he failed to respond to the letters she would write during the first year her letters stopped altogether. Which he was glad for, he didn't have a thing to say to her. His mother cared more about three-thousand-year-old bones than she did about her own son, how she nearly destroyed his father.

"Andrew," Julián said, in a stern fatherly voice as he placed his strong meaty hand on Andrew's right shoulder. "I understand your feelings regarding your... mother," he said, with the hint of bitterness in his voice. His light green eyes softening as the wrinkles formed by laughs and mirth, not by sadness, lined the sides of his eyes as he stared at his son. His trim salt and pepper beard sat close to his face. His strong jaw held aloof his high cheekbones as he lightly squeezed his shoulder. "I know you can take care of yourself, but I'm not leaving my million-dollar penthouse condo in your care for two months," Julián said, his lips curved into a warm smile. Knowing they'd had this talk serval times that week.

"But does it have to be her?!" Andrew pleaded with his father. "Why can't I stay with Aunt Candis and Uncle Peter?"

"You know why," Julián said, patting his son's shoulder. "They have enough on their hands than to deal with you under foot as well," he said, referring to their new twins they had just given birth to thanks to the advancements in science.

"That's our flight," Wilma said, lightly patting her husband's bicep. "Now Andy," only Wilma called him that, "you behave yourself during the flight, and when you get back we'll all go out to celebrate our reunion," she said, slyly winking at him as she moved past him as they left him at his gate.

His cheeks heated recounting the time when she abruptly walked into his room when he was going to town on himself, and to his horror she had heard him moan out her name. So, every so often she would tease him with scantily clad photos of herself in various displays of erotism.

"

Andy, I know this will be hard on you

." Wilma's text vibrated his phone in his pocket as he waited for his flight to board. Andrew swallowed hard as he stared at the two naked photos of his new step-mother. He could feel his cock growing as he zoomed in on her bare 36B breasts then to that bright pink cunt she held open for the camera. "

I know these aren't much, but I hope they will take your mind off of things while you're there. Worry not

..." A devious little devil emoji appeared on his screen. "

You're sweet adoring mother wouldn't leave you with two, oh no, you shall see much more over the months we are away from one another

.

Your father is returning, we'll see you soon

." Andrew felt his face heat all over again as she sent another one of her blowing him a kiss with those sweet supple lips of hers.

As the speakers overhead blared announcing the boarding of his flight. With a reluctant sigh, Andrew lifted himself out of his seat. Pulling out his plane ticket from his back pocket and handing it to the man at the podium. At least he knew he wouldn't be flying coach; Andrew could at least take comfort in that.

******

"Fuck it's hot," Andrew groaned in annoyance as he felt the heat burning through the airport's windows. Even with the air-cooled interior the late Egyptian summer sun was winning against the machines. "

I bet they didn't think of this in Terminator, the machines would melt!

" he muttered to himself as he walked through the busy airport in Cairo. Once he retrieved his bags, he sucked up his courage to go face the woman that had left him behind... at least that was what he thought. "Really?!" Andrew loudly groaned as he saw a woman, not his mother, holding a sign with his full name on it.

"You look so much like what your mother told me," her slight English accent seemed odd due to her Egyptian decent.

"Where is she?" Andrew asked, his temper rising. He was sure the twenty something woman was pleasant, but his father had told him his mother had assured him that she would be here.

"She's on a dig, she sent me in her place to fetch you," the woman said, wondering why he sounded angry. "Come, we have a long drive ahead of us."

"Wait... I'm not staying in the city?" Andrew asked, perplexed.

"No, Professor Sanders is in charge of the dig, it would be irresponsible of her to leave the site," she said, as the desert wind lifted her ebony hair off her shoulders. "Especially since we found something big," she said, ominously. Not that Andrew cared, he already missed his air-conditioned high-rise bedroom.

"Just great, just what I wanted to do with my summer," Andrew sighed as he tossed his bags into the back of the range rover.

Andrew had stared uninterestedly out on the sand dunes as they sped down the desert highway. When the woman beside him learned that he wasn't in the mood to talk she had quickly turned on the radio. Slyly pulling out his phone, gazing at the nude photo of Wilma. He still couldn't believe she actually sent that to him. Sending his father a quick text telling him that he had landed and on his way to meet his... mother. How he hated typing that word.

"

Glad you're safe son. I know it's hard, but I know you can get through this

." His father sent back along with a selfie of him and Wilma at the bow of the ship as the glaciers of Alaska appeared in the background. His fingers trailed down his father's smiling face. Knowing it was going to be two long months before he could see it again in person.

"We'll be at the dig site soon." Andrew's eyes glanced to his left as she spoke over the sound of the radio. He honestly couldn't see anything other than mounds and mounds of sand that stretched as far as the eye could see.

"How can you tell?" Andrew asked, after they been on the road for the past four hours.

"GPS," she said, smiling at him pointing at the device.

As they passed what Andrew thought were nothing more than more sand dunes like he had been staring aimlessly at for the past four hours until the top of the buried temple came into view. The thirty-foot-tall statue of Bast stood in the center of the complex. What he found surprising was the statue looked like it was painted yesterday. Which he knew was impossible, given that the religion died out around 300 to 500 AD. His history books were never that clear on the subject, nor did he take to it given that it reminded him of his mother and all those books that cluttered the house before she ran off. Groaning as he opened the door, wishing he could just live inside the interior of the Range Rover for the next two months. Already feeling his sweat beading along his brow as he grabbed his bags.

The canvas tent flaps fluttered in the dessert wind. A neat row of ten greeted him as he walked towards them. Seeing a red cross above on of the tents' openings due to the dig site being four hours away from any form of civilized life. Chatter filled the air as he followed after the woman that drove him there.

"Professor Sanders!" The woman called out leaving Andrew behind as a late twenties, olive tone skinned man stepped out of the larger of the ten tents. Andrew ignored them as the woman wrapped her arms around his neck. Waving him in without losing a beat as she and whomever the guy was kissed like they haven't seen each other in years.

And so, as Andrew stood in the entrance to the tent. After eight long years he saw the first image of his mother. Her long, dark red, thick hair was held up by a hair band that strained under the pressure. Her army green shirt sat lightly on her chest, letting everyone know she wasn't wearing a bra underneath given how the cotton detailed the shape of her breasts and her nipples. Her once alabaster skin now held a healthy tan due to her years beneath the blazing sun. Her tan cargo shorts fell a few inches above her knees. Her muscular calves flexed as she shifted her feet, another hard-earned perk due to her years traversing tombs, temples, and more importantly giant sand dunes.

"Hello Andrew," his mother said, without bothering to look at him as she studied the artifacts they had just unearthed.

"Hello Alexandria," Andrew said, with cold indifference. Why his grandparents named her that he had no clue, nor did he have one for the guy who conquered the known world at the time couldn't be better at -- naming things! Her sky-blue eyes flickered over to him at the sound of his bags hitting the tent floor.

"I told your father that I wouldn't be able to look after you until next month, yet he sends you here anyway," Alexandria sighed shaking her head.

"Not that I need looking after, I am eighteen. I've taken care of myself so far," Andrew said, coldly.

"I don't have time to have this discussion with you..."

"No, of course not, you never did when dead people were involved. Shall I go bury myself and get mummified, would you then have time for your own son," Andrew said, his anger rising as he crossed his arms.

"No, even then you wouldn't be that interesting," Alexandria (or as she liked to be called Alex), said as she studied the piece of shattered pottery, returning his own coldness back to him. "Shouldn't you people be doing something?" Alex scolded her undergraduates as they just stood there listening in stunned shock.

"Just tell me where I can sleep and an outlet and we can go on ignoring each other like we've done for the past eight years," Andrew huffed.

"Where do you think we are? Do you see any power lines?" Alex asked, arching an eyebrow at her son.

"You have generators, right?"

"Only used when they are needed, not to charge your little toys," Alex said, returning to her cataloging the relics. "If you need to charge it use the one in the Rover, but it's going have to last a few days. I can't have you wasting gas just so you can chat with your little Facebook people," she said, not hiding her smirk at the horrified look on her son's face. "As for where you'll sleep..." She lowered her yellow pad, sighing in her mind knowing it's going to be two long months. An equally three long weeks since she hadn't been with anyone for the last eight years. Her career came first, it was the reason she lost her family in the first place. "You'll have to bunk with me," Alex said, turning to look at her son seeing the equally horrified look on his face at the thought of it. "Or you can sleep in the sand with the scorpions and camel spiders, your choice," she said, shrugging her shoulders. Her thin lips curved into a smile as she heard her son's sigh. "I'll take that as you choose not to sleep with the scorpions and the camel spiders," Alex said, setting down her pad and pen. "Like I said, I told your father as such given this is a working dig. Not some vacation spot for him to send his son to. The limited space we have has been allotted to those that want to be here. Who want to make history."

"Is that so," Andrew said, narrowing his eyes. "So, dried up bodies, powdered organs in canopic jars, rotten linen wraps were worth everything?"

"I don't expect you to understand," Alex sighed. She had tried to get her son to understand why she left, but he never wrote her back. He probably never read her letters in the first place. Not that she could blame him, her son was entitled to be angry with her. She did after all choose dead people over her own living son.

"Whatever just show me the way already," Andrew said, growing tired of the conversation already.

"I can show him to your tent Professor Sanders." Andrew turned to look at the unknown speaker only to see that same guy who nearly sucked the face off the woman that drove him there.

"Thank you Abasi, make sure he doesn't touch anything," Alex said, returning to her work. She had to get what was on the table cataloged before nightfall. There was much, much more work to do before the site was shut down. The Egyptian government only gave them a month to do a preliminary study of the site to see if it was worth it to fund a more thorough one after the winter. That month started a week ago once they had finally got all the sand carted out. She just couldn't understand why they would build such a grand complex temple only to bury it once it had been completed. Had a sand storm buried it? Did they purposely do it, to hide it... Shaking her head at the thought. "

No, that can't be right

," Alex muttered to herself.

"Of course, Professor," Abasi said, bowing his head slightly. "Follow me," he said, while shyly checking Alex out. "So, you're the Professor's son..."

"Listen, can we not talk about that?" Andrew asked, as one of his bags rested against his back while the other hung from his left hand.

"Sure, whatever you want," Abasi nodded. Glad he didn't have to play nice with a spoiled little rich kid, or that's what he took Andrew as. Little did he know what Andrew did to comfort his father when his mother shattered his heart, of all the little things only he could do being a ten-year-old child. Just so he could see his father smile at least once a day. So, he wouldn't think about how his mother left their lives in shambles. "Obviously, you can tell where the med tent is. If you have to go... you know," Abasi said, peering over his shoulder. "They're behind the water truck," he said, pointing in the general direction. "Just follow the smell. Shouldn't be hard to miss. That's the mess hall, and this," Abasi said, stopping in front of the second to largest tent there. "Is the Professor's tent," he said holding the flap to the side. The front of the tent was filled with reference books: a folding desk littered with small pieces of a statue, a leather-bound journal, a small laptop, and his eyes narrowed at the picture that sat on the desk. It was of when he had just turned ten, a few months before his mother fled from their home. Taken in central park, his mother holding him close as her chin rested on his right shoulder her arms around his waist hugging him close as his father took the picture. It was the last time he had happy thoughts about the park and that warm spring afternoon. "Just past the insect netting is her sleeping quarters," Abasi said. Wondering how he was going to worm his way into her bed now. "I'll leave you to it," he said, sharing a slight nod with Andrew.

Andrew's bags thumped on the tent floor as he dropped them beside the wall. Arching an eyebrow at the hammock and the ingenious fan attachment that hung over it. Yawning as the jet lag was catching up with him. Pulling out his phone, texting his father that due to the lack of power, he'll have to text him every few days to save his phone's battery.

"

Okay son. I'll text to you in a few days

." Julián texted back.

"Miss you Dad," Andrew texted back, smiling warmly at his phone when the words 'I love you too' appeared on his screen before he powered off his phone. Tucking it into the pocket of his bag so sand wouldn't creep into the case. Pulling his sweat soaked shirt off, tossing it onto the top of his bag. Kicking off his tennis shoes and stuffing his soaks into them. Hoping the netting would keep all those nasty scorpions and camel spiders out. Sighing as he laid on the cool sheets that covered the hammock as he gently swung side to side. Before he knew it Andrew was drifting off to sleep.

He didn't know how long he slept for, the sound of water dripping into a pail gradually brought him to the surface of his waking mind. As he slowly opened his eyes, his breath was caught in his chest. There his mother stood in the weak light of the LED lantern the large yellow sponge ran along her arm. A single droplet of water hung on her light pink nipple as she ran the sponge along the top of her chest. He didn't know why he kept on looking as his mother tilted her head back, running the sponge down the valley of her 32C breasts. Down her flat stomach and in-between her legs. Biting his lower lip as his mother bent over, the stubble of her formerly shaven mound could be seen as his eyes were glued to it. Andrew had to admit for a woman in her early forties her cunt almost looked virginal in all its neat, tight packaging. Quickly shutting his eyes, he could almost feel his mother's eyes on him as he heard her movements still. He dared not look fearing that she would know he had spied on her bathing. Andrew felt something light and soft lowering on his body. The shifting of the hammock nearly made him clutch to the side of it. Then he felt something very odd and very, very familiar. The brushing of the back of her fingers along his cheek sent him back to his childhood when he would climb into bed with his mother. The way she would do that very thing, then he felt her lips on his forehead which would always end the gesture before he would fall asleep.

"I am sorry, Andrew. I know how angry you are with me. But I had to follow my dream. I hope you can come to understand that someday," Alex whispered. Andrew totally wasn't expecting his mother to say that, nor was he expecting to hear her soft sobs as she rolled to her right. God. He felt like an ass.

"But couldn't you do that in New York?!" He wanted to ask but he was a coward and simply fall back asleep.

Andrew awoke with his mother's face less than two inches away from his. Her arm was draped along his chest. His heart instantly leapt to his throat as he felt his mother's bare breasts pressed against his arm and chest. Her right leg was wrapped around his. His eyes darted down to her lips as she lightly smacked and gently rubbed her cheek against shoulder. Then his mother's eyes shot open darting to his face then down to his body.

"Oh God! I'm so sorry Andrew!" Alex said, clutching the blanket to her chest as she nearly flew off the hammock. Her eyes fell on the bulge in his shorts. Instantly she felt her face reddening at the sight of her son's morning wood. "

Well... you definitely aren't the little boy I once knew

," she said to herself. Watching how he swung his legs off the side of the hammock. Knowing he was probably as embarrassed as she was. "Give me a few minutes to get dressed then you can wash yourself... i-i-if you have to... do it in the pail and toss it out," Alex said, unable to bring herself to say masturbate to her son.