Dying Wish Ch 03

Author's Note: This has been one long serial that won't make much sense unless you start from the beginning. It also moves very slowly, so if a story like that doesn't appeal to you, then you might want to move on to something different.

Once again I felt like I was playing some sort of chess game with my parents, especially Mom. Dad, for all his success as a businessman, was more known for his aggressive, blunt style. You always knew where you stood with him, and that was a good thing. Mom, on the other hand, was proving to be very different. And what was really dumbfounding was that she'd been shockingly candid about some topics that most people would consider extremely private, like (presumably) having a voracious sexual appetite, how her relationship with Dad had been faltering for some time now, and then volunteering a story about how close she'd been to having a casual affair last year when she and Dad were on vacation. And if that wasn't enough, by the end of the day she'd all but invited me to have sex with her too.

A few days had passed since then, and more than ever I felt relieved at not having taken Mom up on that last offer. I had insisted that she be completely forthright with me from now on, about everything, and she'd seemed more than willing to comply, and yet I still felt as if this were all a chess game, with Mom at least three moves ahead of me and was in complete control of the board. The only way I could think of leveling the playing field again would be to once again confront her with my questions, which I felt more and more like she had deftly managed to avoid before. Dad wanted to talk to me first, however, which was fine by me. I could use a little of his no-nonsense candor right now, especially since dealing with Mom these days felt more and more like dealing with, well... a woman.

"What is it Dad?" I asked as I entered his office. He was sitting behind his desk, and while I couldn't see what he was working on he was clearly doing something on his computer. Much as he had promised to stop working a few months ago, old habits die hard, and occasionally I'd find him in here, reading reports and the like.

"Dad, do you really need to work right now?' I asked with some frustration.

"It's not work," he said wearily. I came closer until I noticed he was cycling through different tombstone statues.

"Holy shit," I said. This was one of my responsibilities, and seeing the website instantly reminded me that deadline for choosing which statue we wanted was coming soon if wanted it ready for when we were expecting to need it.

"I'm sorry Dad," I said dejectedly. "I've been so selfish this past while thinking about myself that I let my obligations to you slide."

"No you haven't, son. Besides, when it comes to something like this, I'd rather make the decision myself. But that's why I wanted to talk to you, to make it clear that from now on the only priority you should be focused on is your mother. I've made my peace with her, and I believe with you too. Time is running short, and all I really need from you now is to make sure the two of you are together before I go."

"I'm trying Dad, but it's not as simple as you think. That's about all I can say right now."

"I asked Paula how things were going and she wouldn't say very much either. In fact, she told me you made her promise not to talk about it with me."

"If you want me to do something that's going to have consequences for the rest of my life, then you're going to have to trust me to do it my way, Dad."

"I do son, but there's no shame in getting my help either. I did manage to get something out of your Mom - don't blame her, because she knew I wouldn't stop until I got something - but she told me at one point she really thought you were going to make love to her, but it never happened. I don't expect something like that to be easy for you, but..."

"Truthfully, I've learned to accept that part of what you're asking of me," I interrupted.

"Really?" Dad asked in surprise. "I had just assumed..."

"And it's a fair assumption," I said, interrupting again. I could feel the tension in the room rising as my voice had become more cross, and I tried my best to calm down again. The last thing I wanted to do was take out my frustration of having to discuss this topic out on Dad. What was really bothering me, however, was being reminded at how easily I'd almost succumbed to Mom's advances. It had been a very long time since I'd had sex, and I don't doubt that that played a large role in how I had behaved, in the end I still expected more from myself. I was twenty-four now, not some hormone filled kid that was horny 24/7. This wasn't the first time I'd declined sex either; we've all been in situations where saying "no" was the right thing to do, and I'd had my share by now. It was like Mom had put some spell on me, and once again I felt like if I knew her better, the real her, then maybe this had a chance as a real relationship. The last thing I wanted was to be led around by a woman with my dick being too hard for me to ever think straight; I'd had a few experiences like that early in my dating life and they had all gone horribly wrong.

"Dad, when you asked me to do this, I assumed it wasn't just a sex thing," I began, my voice now calm again. "You wanted me to watch out for Mom, be there for her, to try and take over the role you've had in her life to the best of my abilities. Well, you don't accomplish something like that by just jumping in the sack with her and living happily ever after."

"Except she's not some stranger James, it's Paula. She's been there your whole life, even raised you when you were little and I was gone most the time. She wants to be there for you like she has for me, and there's no doubt she means it. I know you've had trust issues ever since your last girlfriend, but you can't carry that baggage over to Paula. She'd never betray or bail on you like Melissa did, not in a million years."

There was a lot of truth to what Dad was saying but I also needed to consider that his view of Mom was not nearly as pristine as he believed. Did he know anything about Javon or "Javon Jr." or that his wife had a favorite dildo named after me? I doubt it, and that was fine with me, as Dad deserved nothing but the best thoughts and memories of Mom and anyone else he cared about during these final weeks or months he had left. But that didn't mean I was going to blindly follow into his footsteps without having a better understanding of what I was getting myself into.

"I think things would be better if you and Paula spent some time alone together to try and sort things out," Dad offered. "Get away from the distractions around here."

"Dad, you're not a distraction," I said.

"I appreciate that son, but we both know that's not entirely true. And it's not just me, it's your other responsibilities too. You need a couple of days off. Go stay at the beach house for the rest of the week, and bring Paula along with you. Don't worry about me; I'll still be here when you get back. I'm not going anywhere just yet."

It was nice to hear Dad's encouraging tone again. I think a lot of people who didn't know him well mistook him for being this hard-ass with no soul, but underneath the gruff exterior Dad was a loving husband and father with a kind heart. I wanted to do right by him. The beach house he was talking about was something he'd bought Mom for their tenth wedding anniversary, a smallish but upscale place situated right on the coast, fairly secluded and within walking distance of some of the most beautiful sandy white beach you've ever seen.

"Dad, I'm not sure going there all alone with Mom is kind of vacation I need right now," I said frankly.

"Don't worry about Paula; I'll make sure she understands this isn't some romantic getaway. There's two bedrooms and plenty of space to be alone if you want to. Paula will probably spend most of her time on the beach anyway, so you'll have as much time to yourself as you want."

"Okay, you win," I said.

**

We weren't going to be able to depart until early evening, so Mom and I decided to have dinner at home before leaving for the almost three hour drive to the beach house. Although the plan was to only stay for a few days, neither of us was on any specific timetable and so as long as nothing changed back at home with Dad he assured us that we should stay as long as we wanted to without feeling any pressure to return.

It was almost 10 PM when we arrived, and Mom immediately set out to stock a few groceries we'd brought with us while I phoned Mr. Harris, our nearest neighbor. He lived about ten minutes away, and along with the high tech lock and security system kept that the house safe would check in once a week just to make sure everything was well kept and secure. Dad also had a home cleaning service come in once a month to do basic things like dusting, and a landscaping company that came regularly to maintain the outdoor property, all of whom reported to Mr. Harris. Of course, Dad made sure Mr. Harris was well compensated for all of this, and all we really has to do was let him know things like when we were planning to come over and how long we were expecting to stay. After that we both unpacked a few items into our respective bedrooms; I didn't have much but Mom, not surprisingly, had brought several suitcases worth and therefore just put away a few essentials for tonight, leaving the rest for tomorrow.

"I'm feeling pretty tired; think I call it a night," Mom said after we finished. "What about you?"

"I'll stay up a bit longer, maybe do a walk-through of the house to make sure everything looks okay," I replied.

"Okay then, goodnight dear."

I'm not much of a drinker, but I didn't feel like going to sleep just yet, so I made myself a scotch and soda and took it with me as I went to check around the house. I ended back where I started when I was done and, still not feeling quite ready to go to bed, decided to light up the large gas fireplace in the living room and lie down in front of it for a bit.

It had been a very long time since I had been to the house; what was once at least a yearly trip with the family had become a sporadic event at best once I entered my college and then working years, and many of the objects I had run into during my walk around had triggered old memories, good and bad. When I got settled in front of the fire with my drink I noticed something sitting on the white marble mantle above that really took me back, an 8X10 picture taken on my high school graduation day. I'd had various photos taken that day, at the ceremony itself, at the reception party my family had thrown for me afterwards, by myself or with my friends, etc, etc. This one stood out for two reasons, the first being that it was a wider, full body shot as opposed to the other pictures that day which were almost all close-ups, and the other being that only had me and Mom in it.

It wasn't the greatest shot, and for a moment I wondered why Mom, who did all the decorating in the house, would choose to feature it in such a visible spot, and then I chuckled to myself as the reason dawned on me, because it was likely one of the few photos taken that day that showed off her outfit from head to toe. Yes, she could be that vain at times, but frankly I couldn't blame her as my eyes traveled up and down her elegant form. She was wearing a long, navy blue dress, covered with sequins that make it sparkle in the light. The front featured a sharply plunging neckline, enough that I have no doubt she'd turned many a head that day, as I'm sure the spaghetti straps that left her willowy shoulders and back exposed had also done. And if that wasn't enough to take your breath away, the side slit on the left that went all the way to the top of her thigh most certainly would have.

I took the photo from the mantle and lay down in front of the fire with it and my drink, replaying some of the memories I carried with me from that day. The thing that surprised me the most was that I had absolutely no recollection of Mom's outfit. She'd always had this uncanny ability to go to an event like this and look hot without looking slutty. That was something I wouldn't be able to appreciate back then; sure she was pretty, I knew that, but beyond all I could see was "Mom" and nothing else. I saw the photo with different eyes now, however, and as I studied every sensual curve the thought took hold of me that countless men must have lusted for her that day, perhaps maybe even some of my friends, undressing her with their eyes, and that I had remained oblivious to all of it. That didn't say anything bad about me though. In fact, if anything, that kind of naiveté made me a good son, as boys aren't supposed to look at their mothers like that anyway. How quickly I had changed these past few weeks, however, as I could now sense those same feelings of excitement churning inside me that I was certain most men had experienced seeing her that day.

Then another thought hit much harder as I realized that this photo was taken right in the middle of those days when Mom had created those flurry of drawings featuring her and I having sex. Looking at the photo of us in my hand and knowing that was so surreal all I could do for a moment was pretend that it wasn't us, that these were two other people I was looking at.

The more I looked at the picture, however, the more I began focusing on this younger version of myself. I was eighteen in the photo, meaning it was taken six years ago, but the difference between me and the young man in that photo made it seem like far more time had passed. I was just so immature back then in every way. How Mom could ever find herself infatuated with the guy in this picture was beyond me. Sure, I'd say I had better than average looks, and being on the fitness kick I was at the time had a leaner, more muscular body, but even in terms of appearance, I'd say I've improved overall since then. Muscles or not, I still had a more boyish physique, and since then I'd filled out my frame a lot more.

Besides, it wasn't just the physical changes I'd undergone since then, it was everything else too. The boy in that picture was still a virgin; in fact his sexual experience with girls hadn't gone further than the last one who'd given him his first blowjob. He was a walking bag of hormones, not the patient, giving type of lover that an experienced, older woman like Mom would expect. It was bad enough that her eyes had clearly wandered away from Dad, but for her to set them upon the dumb kid I was looking at in the photo was beyond explanation.

Nevertheless, I found myself trying to cobble together some possible scenario between us, trying to guess what could have happened, and since my mind had been brought back to the night of my graduation I decided to use that as my starting point. From what I recall, Dad had gotten a bit food poisoning and ended up turning in very early that night, and the guests, well, they did their best to keep celebrating with me, but it was a clear downer that Dad wasn't there so many of them left early. At the end of the night, I remember sitting on the living room couch with Mom. We talked and joked around, with her doing her best not to make me feel like the party hadn't been ruined with Dad and everyone else leaving so soon. It was good, life was good, and I felt happy.

So what if it had happened right there? It would have been the perfect time, if there was such a thing, for Mom to make a move on me. I imagined her dropping in small flirtations as we talked, and finding ways to make our interaction gradually more physical, like putting her hands on me here and there or maybe hugging me. But in the end, that final barrier between parent and lover would be have to be crossed. I imagined what it would have been like if she'd found the courage to do so, pressing her lips cautiously but passionately into mine. I could picture what eighteen year old me would have thought; of course there would be an element of shock, but for the most part I'm certain I would have been immediately consumed by the excitement of the moment.

It's a sad thing to admit, by I know there wouldn't have been any filter, moral or otherwise, that would have made me stop her or even want to stop her. And it wasn't one of those things where one person exerts their power and authority while the other meekly submits, the type of dynamic that often leads to tragedy in stories like this, but because of the fact that I was so ridiculously horny at this age that there would be few, if any, women I'd rebuff, even my mother. So it made no difference if she was married, or that her husband happen to be my Dad; I wasn't seeing anyone myself, but I doubt that would have stopped me either. If a woman wanted to fuck, even one I wasn't particularly attracted to, then I was down for it.

We'd kiss again and again; not that I was the greatest at it, but once again with this being Mom I'd be way too scared to try anything more than what she had started before she'd pull away and, in the most coquettish voice ask:

"Want to go upstairs, James?"

I'd slowly nod back, "yes," and probably for the first time realize that there was an element of danger to what we were doing with Dad still in the house. We had a large, winding staircase leading to the second floor. Taking a sharp right at the top of the landing would lead down a long hallway the ended with my parents' bedroom, while turning left would take you to my room. I was always glad that having our rooms so far away meant that I never had to deal with the possibility of hearing my parents having sex, or any other uncomfortable situations like that, but of course I also appreciated the relative privacy it gave to me on my side of the house. I knew Dad had gone to bed early, and was likely still sleeping soundly now, but was it really safe enough for us to try something like this? I hesitated for a moment, knowing I would have to completely trust Mom's judgement on this one, before once again being overwhelmed by the excitement that I was probably going to lose my cherry tonight and that I couldn't wait to get started. And with that I took the outstretched hand she offered me and let her guide me up the stairs, following behind like a loyal puppy dog as she took us back to my room. I could feel the energy building up in me, my heart already pounding and the blood frantically rushing to fill my cock. Minus any fears of getting caught there was no doubt I wanted this, and wanted it badly.

We'd get back to my room, standing in mostly darkness but illuminated just enough to see one another from the moon and other light shining through the window. Once again I'd be like in a deer in headlights; this wasn't some Casanova that Mom was bedding tonight and if she wanted this to happen then she was going to have to take the lead. And with that, I'd feel her fingers gently undoing the silk tie she'd been so proud to give me as a gift for the day's event, followed by the artful removal of the accompanying silk shirt she'd picked out for me to wear for the day. The moment wasn't totally surreal, as plenty of times over the years Mom had helped me get dressed or undressed, but none of those times had been sexually charged like this one. The feeling still didn't really hit me though until she undid my trousers and slid them off, allowing her to finally notice my tented underwear.

"My, someone's feeling good today,"

she'd remark with the sliest of grins. Mom came right up against me, standing only a few inches away, and I looked down and watched as her fingers expertly hooked the waistband on either side of my briefs and slid them down before stepping away and playfully adding:

"I'm afraid you're going to have to take care of your socks, dear."