You know you shouldn’t be standing here outside your mother’s bedroom. You should be asleep. It’s past eleven, you have to work tomorrow.
You shouldn’t be staring at her legs. Did she kick off the blanket, or did she fall asleep before she pulled it over herself?
Those pills she’s been taking put her right out. She’s left the light on again. A waste of electricity.
You should just go in and turn off the light. You should probably pull the blanket over her while you’re here. The nights are getting cold, and her skin is already showing pink blotches from the chill.
You should pull the blanket over her and leave. Definitely not lift it up to see whether she’s wearing anything. You should really try to forget about that time she wasn’t, and you caught a glimpse of dark hair before you covered her and dashed out of the room. You should probably stop wanking over that memory too. You really should.
Or at least you should feel more guilty about it.
Just like you should feel guilty now about lifting the blanket. The way your heart is pounding, your blood is racing? The way your legs and hands are trembling? That’s because you know you shouldn’t.
You can still stop this. Your hand’s trembling. You’re going to have to put the blanket down, one way or another. Either cover her – like you know you should – or move it all the way. Like you know you want to. Like you know you’re going to.
It’s not like you’ve even seen anything. You’d have to lift the blanket higher. Even higher. Even– You should lower the blanket. That’s it. Her pubes. Her pussy.
You should really start breathing again.
Slow, steady breaths. Not too loud. Definitely shouldn’t be too loud. Should ignore the pain of the air rasping down your throat. Should stop your fingers from trembling.
You should make a decision. Blanket on or off. You shouldn’t be telling yourself that lifting it a little further won’t make any difference now.
You should fold it back. The shadow is on her… her… Fold it back.
Might as well fold it all the way off. She’s fast asleep, and your hand’s trembling. You should really take a deep breath and stop shaking.
You shouldn’t be doing this. You know you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t be leaning down for a closer look. You really shouldn’t. And you should be careful how you lean your weight on the mattress. Don’t want to wake her.
You shouldn’t get too close. You shouldn’t try and smell. You shouldn’t move closer and closer, until something brushes against your nose. It tickles. Her pubes. You shouldn’t have got so close.
But she’s asleep! She’ll never know.
You shouldn’t rub yourself through your shorts. Even though your body’s aching. Crying out. Trembling like there’s an electric current running through you. Shouldn’t rub yourself.
You shouldn’t open your mouth and breathe out. Soft and warm. Will she feel it? Will she–? She’s stirring! Is she awake? Get back!
That’s it. You should get out. You shouldn’t wait to see whether she’s going to wake up. But she’s not. She’s only shifting in her sleep. Just lying there, on her back, with the blanket bunched up around her waist.
You shouldn’t, but the second time it’s easier. You shouldn’t do the breathing thing again. Even though she doesn’t stir this time, you know you shouldn’t.
And you shouldn’t stick your tongue out. No further than this, anyway. You shouldn’t touch her with it. You shouldn’t…
That scent! It shouldn’t be so hot, but it is! So hot, so forbidden. So… irresistible, so intoxicating.
This should be enough. More than enough. You should really leave now. Pull the blanket over her again. You should.
You shouldn’t take another deep breath. Or another. And your tongue…
You should take a moment. Savour how she tastes. Savour her flavour, ha!