Before...
The whole thing started months ago when my mother invited me to the spa. Deep tissue massages and hot baths are mom's safe haven, her place to unwind after a busy week. She also insisted that I come to the gym with her.
We would get dressed next to each other at her insistence, both in the gym and spa locker rooms. I couldn't understand why she had this sudden push to be naked around me. We've always had normal physical and social boundaries. Her nudity became more blatant and she'd stand there watching me undress.
Let me give a little more context. My mother is a psychologist, researcher, and she also teaches at a top university in this field. Her specialty is mental health and overcoming trauma. Her papers and journal publications are considered cutting-edge.
But she's far from your average psychologist. She's got style. Her hair always has streaks of bright highlights, her eyeshadow is always prominent, her lipstick is always bold red, and her nail polish always changes.
And in case you're wondering -- yes -- she made a move. Several times. A month ago we got full body massages. Our bodies were oiled and naked. She asked the employees to give us privacy so we could rest, and when I nearly fell asleep, my mother walked over to me and placed her hand between my legs. I was startled, but I didn't stop her.
She made me cum with her hand. Then she made me cum again with her mouth. There wasn't any talking and she never explained herself afterward.
The following week was the reverse. We sat in the sauna with towels wrapped around our bodies and she asked if I was 'interested.' Nothing else, just if I was interested. I knew what she meant. When I was indecisive, mom pulled her towel away and sat there without saying a word.
I got on my knees and returned the favor. I'd never done that before with a woman, so she guided me. The taboo was stomach churning, but I guess that's what made it alluring, that it was the ultimate forbidden act. Again, she never explained herself. She always shut down any inquiries I had.
Two weeks ago I looked through her stuff, hoping to discover her motives. Her desk at home is cluttered. With most of her work stored on her laptop, I knew information would be limited, but I found books regarding the long term effects of incest.
Then I found two pages with her handwritten notes scribbled on them:
'for professionals'
'the untold impact of mom/son incest'
'a mother is supposed to be a nurturer'
'guilt and shame'
'the healing process'
'what professionals need to know'
In that moment something clicked in my head and it all made sense. Mom exposing herself to me, making me orgasm, eating her out... it was a thought-experiment to her. She heals people's trauma for a living, some nights I'd see her in tears. I felt like a fool for not making the connection earlier.
The Family Ride
My younger brother is getting snacks and I'm getting soda. We're at a gas station in the Arizona desert. The family road trip was my mother's idea, a way for everyone to connect since he moved away last year. At 20 years old, he already has a technician's certificate and a paid apprenticeship.
The afternoon sun is blazing when we step outside. Aunt Elizabeth is driving the big rental van. She's much like my mother, an academic with a sassy flare. We had already dropped off two other family members to their home, so there are extra seats in the van.
It's amazing how sexy mom looks right now. Small tshirt which showcases big boobs, jean shorts which show off legs, sandals which show her feet. God she's delicious. I'd give anything to eat her out again. We hadn't done that in a while, sadly, because she hadn't offered. And yes, I know how crazy I sound, complaining about being cut-off sexually from my own mother.
Aunt Elizabeth calls everyone to the van. The ride back to California will take hours. Mom stops me before I can get inside, putting her hand on my shoulder.
"I'll sit with Luke for the rest of the trip," she says. "You know, I miss him."
"Yeah, sure, totally makes sense."
"And another thing. You might hear a few noises in the backseat. Ignore it, okay?"
It takes a moment to register mom's vague statement, but looking into her eyes, I know exactly what she's talking about. It's the same eyes she gave me before our previous sexual contact. My jaw drops and mom winces with embarrassment. In the van? With my brother? How could she? I'll admit that I'm jealous that she's choosing Luke over me.
"Are you going to..."
She nods. "Yes, yes, don't say anything to him."
"But why? Is this part of your research?"
"How did you know about my research?"
"I looked through your stuff. I saw your notes."
"When we get home, I'll explain everything. I promise."
"Yeah, but why now? We're all in the same freaking van."
"Because a van ride in the desert is isolating, which creates a heightened emotional state. That contributes to further dependency on the family unit for support."
I shrug off her technical jargon. "Aunt Elizabeth knows about this?"
She winces again. "I'll explain when we get home."
"Oh my god."
I end the conversation and get into the van with an annoyed look on my face. This time I sit in the middle row, where mom previously sat. Luke is in the backseat and mom gets inside and slides the door closed. She sits next to my brother in the backseat and I can hear flirtatious comments. I can even hear the sound of mom's hand rubbing against my brother's body.
Aunt Elizabeth starts the van and we hit the road. The ride is what you'd expect, looking through the window at the gorgeous view, the occasional sips of soda to cool down, drifting in and out of sleep.
What I'm feeling now is something that shouldn't exist in the human mind. I'm deeply disturbed that my esteemed mother plans on doing something with her own biological offspring, but I'm also jealous that it isn't happening with me again. I wonder if she's already moved on from me, or that she simply prefers cock. I realize how bitter and twisted that sounds.
Or maybe this is all in my head. Mom never specified why she wanted to sit in the backseat, I'm just assuming. I'm amazed by how my mother somehow managed to turn me into a pervert, but can you blame me? Some things leave a lasting impression.
I'm halfway toward falling asleep when I hear it.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?"
My brother's voice was below a whisper but I managed to catch it despite the van's engine roaring. The realization hits me and I'm wide awake, listening for anything wayward.
"Shhhh..."
That's my mother's voice. When I hear the sound of clothes ruffling and movements on the seat, I'm certain my mother is doing with Luke what she did with me before. Mom's hands are the best. I still dream of how she made me cum with her fingers. I wonder if she's jacking off my brother. Or even more salacious, using her mouth. The sounds appear sporadically over the next few minutes.
After the ruffling of clothes and seats has settled down, I'm unable to hear anything, but I know it's happening. It takes every ounce of strength I have to not turn around and look. I hear the ruffling of clothes and the seats moving again, then whispering.
"Thanks."