Part 1
Mum was the most erotic mess when she woke up Tuesday morning. She was still tied, her face, hair, breasts, pelvis and thighs covered with mostly dried jism. She showed me a weak, sore and tired smile and I couldn't help but fuck her again, feeding her the fresh load and watching her gratefully smile as she swallowed every drop. She said nothing the entire time, only moaned and cried out in pleasure, pain and orgasmic release, even when I went to grab a shower without untying her.
I finally did when I returned, dressed and ready for another work day, watching her slowly turn over and go back to sleep with the same smile as before while I ate a hastily warmed meal of vegetable soup.
It didn't really hit me until I was on my way to work. I'd totally used and abused my own mother in every way I'd ever want to sexually use any woman. It was the most fun I'd ever had in my life, especially the look on her face when I was forcing my cock up her perfect, round ass. I wondered if she'd ever been fucked there before with a bright smile, bidding an elderly nun a cheerful hello as she passed on the sidewalk.
It being a cooler, slightly overcast day, there wasn't anybody up for trading their hour long shift on the bucket brigade of one, but I still had plenty of opportunity to think between the muted, brief comments spoken in tones that held the weight of Bruce's death. Of course, this meant the fall of my mood but, thanks to Mum, it didn't fall all the way.
More than anything, it was that feeling of impending doom creeping back in, stronger than ever. It seemed to almost come with the thickening clouds overhead as I ducked into the un-boarded cellar window, the second to last threshold Bruce had crossed in his hard life. The tricky shadows of the cellar served to polarize the last two weeks in my mind.
It was incredible to think that only two months ago, I was this worry free kid just hours out of high school, no concerns about the future, not even thinking about it while raising hell at the grad party and thinking I had all my sexual needs taken care of with Staci in the back of my
Hummer
. I'd planned on the beach the next day with my friends, none of which were ever particularly close to me, but with whom I was quite popular. It seemed like a dream I once had.
The public media nightmare that Mum and I endured right after the last wild night out with my friends seemed like a blur in that cellar, the details as shadowy as the corners down there as I tried to put together who I was during that time. Especially after it became clear that the investigators wouldn' t share my father's numbers with me, that Mum and I were the only ones expected to cooperate and that they were out to in fact railroad us. After that I paid less and less attention to them, focused on my only friend in life as she focused on me, trying to wait out the wolves at the door with no idea what the outcome would be. We were helpless and even our innocence was no guarantee, meant nothing to the reporters outside our door, the bastards who threw the bottles and rocks at it and our vehicles at night. We never hurt anyone and even Dad didn't hurt those night time vandals, but I suppose they did it because we were easy targets. It's not as though the cops would have helped us.
And that's how we got off the bus in Saint John. Two easy targets. This wasn't only because we were homeless and penniless with no jobs, but because we'd been broken down to feeling that way. We were
made
to be easy targets by the shock and awe campaign we'd just survived without much more than the shirts on our backs.
After these things came into sharper perspective for me with the benefit of a little hindsight, the timeline of my new life advanced again and I was fairly shocked to see the picture that our experiences in Saint John had so far painted. In two weeks, most everything I thought I knew as reality had been turned upside down twice. Things I never would have expected, much less believed possible, had happened so fast that I barely had time to measure and categorize them, time to deal and rationally move on to the next incredible, stomach churning event or discovery before it was actually happening.
And now things were happening so fast and all at once... I could almost feel something bad coming. It was like sitting on the beach with the family in that nice oil painting I'd seen in the shop window that night. Everything's just fine as I'm checking out the scenic old lighthouse over my shoulder like the others, not noticing how the gulls have retreated like the fleeing lighthouse keeper, vaguely wondering what that deep, far away roar could be as a fifty foot, killer tsunami races for shore.
Perhaps the most worrying thing was how I was allowing
him
to the surface more often.
He
was no target, Mum's other son, any more than my other mother was and I realized that I'd been starting to lean on him, trusting him more and more to handle the things that were slowly eroding my ability to cope. You see, there's certain contentment within control, even if it's only a control of your own fears and indecision, but wasn't this just running? Mum didn't seem to think so when she turned herself over to the parasite lock, stock and barrel.
Lastly, I still didn't know how I was going to deal with Marie later that night, but I had to somehow, even though a lot of my fears concerning the immediate future were set around her. I spent the rest of the day thinking about that, coming up with very little beyond an attitude I meant to start with, hoping I could work the rest out from there, hoping I could persuade her in any way necessary of going somewhere else, or at least leaving people alone. I didn't dare allow myself to think about my own vulnerability to her.
On the way home in the light drizzle that had begun a few hours before quitting time, I was back to comparing myself to the kid who smiled for Mum's cam as I received my diploma, marveling at how I'd changed. It was my father's graduation gift.
Part 2
Mum had the room freshly cleaned and tidied when I got back home. She wore a new nightie, probably one of the things she'd bought with Joe's money. It was black satin and reached her ankles, leaving a lot of her chest showing above the daringly cut neckline. Beginning from her black pumps, a slit ran up one side of her nightwear, right to the top of her hip to show off a narrow band of her pink panties. With those exciting black streaks in her hair, her gorgeous eyes... Oh,
yes!
After my shower and supper, during which time Mum was strangely, giddily quiet, I noted with a grin, "Mum... You're walking funny."
"(giggle!)"
" ... Oh my god, you are such a bad girl."
She came over and sat right in my lap and kissed my face here and there before she spoke with a pleased smile.
"I
love
role play, but sweetie pie... you can't know what that did for me. See, it's not just the sexual acts, it's... up here." She explained again, tapping the side of her head. "To really satisfy me, it has to be up here, too. Sometimes I need it like that and, let me tell you, honey, I've needed that for a long...
long
time. Thank you so much, you were so absolutely perfect!"
"So were you. You're... I almost believed it, you know."
"Me too. We're so good together."
"The best. But seriously, are you okay?"
"Oh, yeah. A lot better than this morning!" she added with a girlish laugh. "I'll be good as new tomorrow."
" ... Uh, I hate to ask this, but I can't help wondering..."
"Anything."
"Did Dad ever... do stuff like that?"
"Uh, no. No, he didn't have... Well, he tried, but after having to tell him what to do next, step by step, it was clear he'd never really take the initiative. Like you did."
"But... it wasn't me, either. Was it?"
"Don't get wrapped up in that, hon. I told you, I love you both the same and as one."
"Well... Now that I'm sober and stuff, I gotta say I don't regret it at all, or feel bad about it. I loved it and I can't wait to use you like that again, you horny little bitch."
"Heh! Bad boy! Not tonight, though. Give me till tomorrow night so I can be fresh for you. I have amazing recuperative powers, but even I still need a short time."
"No prob."
"I can still suck your nice cock, though. After last night, I need a lot of protein," she told me, squirming in my lap with another dirty giggle.
"All you want, Mummy."
"Mmm. I raised such a good boy."
Part 3
There were no protein drinks for Mum that evening.
Later on, we lounged on the bed and watched television for a while. After an hour long, comprehensive look at the real and staggering economic crisis in the US, we caught some local news. I was on the way back to the bed with a cup of coffee, shaking my head over a report that had just begun on the suicide of a Saint John woman early that morning.
"Audrey Chapel, of Prince Edward Street, jumped from the Reversing Falls Bridge to her death just past six o'clock am, according to several witnesses. Her body was recovered further downstream just over an hour later; police are not investigating, calling Miss Chapel's suicide, 'sad and tragic'."
The anchorwoman went on to a different story about possible dangers in using those curly light bulbs as my arm slowly straightened to hang lifelessly from my shoulder, the hot coffee pouring out all over the floor at my side.
