"Chapter 3"
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I wanted to clean the mess beneath the bed before getting too distracted, so I headed to the linen closet in the hall and grabbed a stack of towels. As I reentered the room, the sight of my mother once again propelled me into a hypnotic trance. Her body, so heavy -- her limbs, so limp -- the television's glow, bouncing off her soles...
I stood in awe of everything that transpired to that point. The night had taken the most unexpected of turns and led to the greatest sexual experience of my life. For a moment, I considered cleaning the mess and heading straight to bed. There was no need to be greedy. I had literally just gotten away with murder and the memory of this evening would forever be with me -- why press my luck? But like the voice of a siren coaxing a ship, my mother's rhythmic snores lured me deeper and deeper.
I walked to the edge of the bed and stared at her unconscious body. She looked so peaceful and relaxed, as if nothing in the world could disturb her. My gaze slowly wandered to her right hand. Her palm faced up with each of her fingers slightly bent. Something about the position made her look particularly vulnerable. I gently grabbed her wrist and raised it off the mattress. When her forearm reached a forty-five degree angle, I let go. Her hand softly plopped upon the sheets. Unexpectedly, an avalanche of blood rushed to my cock. I raised her hand again, this time bringing it to a ninety degree angle. As I released, her arm flopped inward, sending her wrist thudding against her stomach. My body grew tense, concerned the impact would cause her to wake, but just as before, her rhythmic snores were steady.
I tested the waters again, but instead of lifting her wrist, I elevated her entire arm. I raised it higher and higher until I could see a tiny bit of space between her shoulder and the sheets. After holding in place for several seconds, I let go. Her tricep, elbow, forearm, and wrist simultaneously crashed to the mattress, bouncing from the sheets before falling off the bed. I froze yet again, positive the force of her dangling arm would be more than enough to jostle her awake -- but it didn't. She just continued to snore as I continued to stare. So peaceful. So vulnerable. Completely oblivious to her surroundings.
Everything was perfect.
I then remembered the mess beneath the bed and knelt down to clean it up. I did what I could to cover my tracks, but the towel seemed to smear my semen into the carpet instead of wiping it away. I still didn't think anyone would check beneath the bed, but just to be safe, I used the towel to spread my ejaculate as thinly and uniformly as possible -- that way if somebody did check, the discoloration would look like natural aging opposed to a stain. I vigorously wiped for close to a minute before sitting up on my knees. When I did, my mother's limp wrist hung in front me, hovering at a height halfway between my waist and the floor.
The pounding of my cock intensified. I couldn't help but notice the television's hue highlighting the contrast between the ink from my pens and her soles' subtle wrinkles. The canvas of her feet morphed and whirled each time the screen projected a new image.
The view was absolutely mesmerizing. Once again, I lost control.
