This is an updated, more in depth mother-son story that is even more closely related to personal experiences. Comments and constructive criticism are appreciated. Happy fapping!
*****
A salacious red glow illuminated my face, creamy white in all of that silky red, it called to me: the Netflix opening screen.
Yet another night of falling asleep alone, watching whatever random TV show happens to catch my eye, or maybe just Futurama again. I swear I've seen every single episode of that show at least five times. It's comedic gold.
I was two steps from putting on a random episode when I heard my phone ring. It lit up my dark room as it vibrated by me, my mother's photo ID filling up the screen. It was a good photo of her, the weekend that her, my sister and I spent in San Diego. She hugged my sister and I close in the photo, both of them in floral bikinis, it was hard to tell who wore them better.
My mom had the more mature, wider hips of motherhood and more prominent breasts, whereas my sister had a perfect, rotund, tight ass that I could always stare at whenever I got a call from either of them (as it was set to my sister's caller ID as well). She hugged my mom so tight that she was practically squeezing their boobs together and pointing her ass at the guy whom she had asked to take our picture.
Before the photo sucked me in too much I forced myself to pick up my phone and answer it.
"Hey mom, what's up?"
"Hey, Bub." she sounded tired. "Is this a good time?"
Like an cheesy sitcom, I paused to look over my delapitated, depressing bedroom, a cartoon TV show banner my only source of light.
"Yeah I got a minute." I answered with a smirk.
"Well, I don't want to concern you or anything,"
I sat up straight now, I could definitely hear the stress in her voice now.
"But I just wanted you to know that Rog and I are separating."
I almost didn't respond, I hadn't expected this from her at all. "Mom, I'm so sorry." I told her, wishing there was more to say.
"It's all right, Bub, I won't go into the details of why but suffice it to say that there's no longer any trust in the relationship. And in a mature relationship there has to be trust or there can't be anything. And we went to counseling sessions and we read books, but in the end it didn't matter. Once a certain bond of trust is broken it cant be mended."
I didn't know what to say. To be completely honest, I wasn't totally surprised. I had spent a weekend alone with my mom a while back and I found a book in her suitcase titled Coping with Infidelity.
I had lost all respect for her husband, Roger, at that point. I knew that my mom wasn't the woman to cheat, and she had told me that Roger had a history of cheating on his first wife. I didn't need to know who he had been with or when it had been, all I needed to know was he had betrayed my mom.
"I just was waiting for a good time to tell you. I didn't want you to be disappointed in me, this being marriage number three and all."
"Mom you could never disappoint me." I answered instantly. She had been married twice after my dad; once when I was young to a singer in a crappy wanna-be country band in a small hick town, and then to Roger, a more laid back, blues playing, guitar weilding man. He was a hippy in an old Canadians body. Oh yeah, she married Rog and moved up to a tiny mountain town in Canada with him, so I rarely get a chance to see her. "You're the greatest woman I know," I told her, "and I would be lucky to find a girl half as great as you."
"Well thank you, Bubby." I could hear the smile in her voice now. "It means a lot to me that you would say that."
"Well it's true. And I don't know what Roger did to blow it with you but I know he'll rue it to the day he dies."
Mom laughed a little at that, "That's very sweet of you to say."
"So I need to make time to come up and see you, don't I?" I said in an effort to move to a cheerier subject.
"Well I'll never say no to that." my mom laughed.
We talked for another hour or so about plans to come see her, what she was going to do with their house they had built together (she told Roger he could keep it as he had put more effort into rebuilding it than she had), and if she would be able to move back to the States (which she said she planned to do but it wouldn't be for a while). We agreed after much discussion that it would be easier for both of our schedules if she came to see me instead of me driving up to see her.
At the end of the call, I hung up I looked at the photo ID of my mom, my sister and me again.
"How could any guy cheat on that," I asked aloud, just before turning back to my Netflix.
Weeks passed, and eventually the time came when I could take a long weekend off from work and thankfully, she was able to drive down to see me. I got up early Saturday morning and spent most of my day with the window open, trying to rid my room of the copious smell of marijuana. I washed all my sheets (knowing she would be taking my bed for both of the nights she was staying here, I would have regardless), I even dusted all of my furniture and topped it off with a heavy dosing of febreeze.
I was thorough.
Needless to say, I hadn't told my mom I smoked weed. It's been a year since I started, and I always wanted to tell her, but the moment never seemed right. My mom raised me to be a good, lutheran gentleman. And for a long time I was.
I abstained from high school and college parties with few exceptions. Parties never were my scene. I'm not great at socializing en masse. Give me a one-on-one conversation at a bar, or even over coffee.
But when I got home from college and I broke up with my girlfriend whom I had been with for two years, I decided to have a "Night of No Rules". And there were none. I had my first one night stand, and it was with a co-worker whom I work directly next to at the office. But it was also the first time I shot a gun. Only at a can in the woods, nothing too rebellious: even while inebriated I try to obstain from breaking the law. But more importantly that was the first time I smoked a bowl.
And its been a habit ever since.
So as I'm cleaning our upstairs living room my roommate David comes to me and tells me him and his fiance, Melissa, will be leaving tomorrow night to go to a resort with his family.
"Nice, the same place as last year?"
"Different cabin, but same mountain." he answered with a showy smile. David always liked to flaunt the fact that his parents took him to nice places and spoiled him when they could. He was subtle about it, so it never really bothered me, but I could see it in his face.
"Should be fun."
"Yeah. Are you and your mom doing anything over the weekend?"
"Well tomorrow my sister's in town for the last night before she goes back to San Diego, so we're all gonna get together and do something. Not sure what yet."
No sooner had I finished my sentence than I noticed my roommates dogs skid across our wooden floors and bolt for the window, overlooking the driveway.
Sure enough, my mother had pulled up to the driveway, her gorgeous black GMC Sierra crawling to a stop just behind my blue Subaru. I dodged the dogs making my way down the stairs and opened the front door to see my mom practically jump down from the driver seat, standing barely as tall as the side mirror beside it. Her long, auburn hair flailed in the summer wind and she pulled off her big sunglasses as I approached her.
"Hey Bub!" she smiled ear to ear, and I could feel a warm joy in seeing my mother's smile. I embraced her in a tight hug, and she squeezed me twice as hard. I could smell the same shampoo in her hair that I had always smelled growing up. Memories of my childhood swam through my head as we held each other.
