DISCLAIMER: All characters involved in sexual situations are 18 years of age or older.
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My mother and I were always very close. I was the eldest of two by about five minutes and the apple of her eye. Oh, she loved my twin sister, Linda, but she saved most of her closeness for me especially whenever my father decided it was time to "put her in her place" by calling her ugly names like "Fatso" or "Lumpy" and sometimes slapping her around. The extra attention was also there whenever he went away on "business" trips which became more and more often as I grew older.
My mom was no raving beauty by the time I was eighteen, but she was pleasant to look at even with a bit of extra weight on her bones, weight she was very much aware of and tried very hard to lose. She had long reddish blonde hair and blue eyes that twinkled when she was happy, which, thanks to dad, wasn't very often. Every time she lost the extra weight, dear old Leo, my dad, would intervene with the names and lower her self-esteem to the point of absolute futility. If she gained weight, it was because he liked her with the extra weight so other men wouldn't look at her. Two kids at the same time will certainly add weight to a woman's body, but a constant reminder of how fat she was did not help my mother. Today, it would be called spousal abuse and the treatment my father dealt out to my sister and I would be called child abuse.
My father was certainly not the picture of lean, mean, manhood himself, but don't ever get caught calling him fat--not if you didn't want to wake up black and blue. If he weighed an ounce, he weighed two hundred fifty pounds of semi-blubber--not exactly a picture of ideal health.
Anyway, as I said, mom and I were close, closer perhaps than we should have been, but all it amounted to was a few extra hugs and pecks on the lips--until I turned eighteen. It was at my birthday party that I first noticed the change in the way my mother looked at me. She was smiling at me more than usual and, for once, didn't seem to care what dad thought about how she looked. He of course was throwing lightning bolts at my mother with both eyes. I knew what kind of night my mother was in for that night before it even happened.
The next morning mom couldn't hide the pain in her eyes. I knew what the bastard had done to her without even looking. There wasn't a bruise to be seen, but that didn't mean that there weren't any. I stayed home from school that day--it was only a week from graduation and there wasn't much going on except graduation practice and I couldn't have cared less that morning. I told my sister that I wasn't feeling too well and was staying home.
It took me a while, but mom was in such pain that I finally persuaded her to let me see the damage that had been done to her. Some of the bruises extended to open cuts and it was hard for mom to breathe deeply. The bruising extended from the underside of her gorgeous breasts to her hips and around to her back from just below the shoulder blades to the bottom of her ass cheeks. I got out the antiseptic and doctored the cuts, all the while telling my mother she deserved better than being used as a punching bag and trying very much to hide my hard cock while gently fondling my mother through the antiseptic wipes. I don't know if she noticed or not, but every once in a while, she let out a gentle sigh.
Then we sat down and started making some plans for after graduation and the last day of school. I also took pictures of my mother's bruised body, less some of the juicier parts that could have been considered semi-pornographic and very inappropriate, with my digital camera. This beating was the worst beating I had ever seen my mother suffer and I swore to myself that my bastard father was not going to get away with it this time. I decided to wait until after graduation to put his ass in a sling and to put our plans into action. We deliberately left my sister out of the loop so she wouldn't spill the beans before our personal D-Day came. Mom had decided to leave my father and she didn't want him warned in advance.
My father worked professionally for a nationally known company in a position of "great" trust. In other words, he was a high mucky-muck in the company and had a lot to lose should his behavior become known to the owners. He didn't know it yet, but his professional career was coming to a screeching halt in the very near future. Even mom didn't know what I had in mind for my father, nor would I tell her until after the fact, if at all. I knew I was playing a dangerous game, but my father had to be stopped once and for all.
The day before graduation mom and I went to the bank. She withdrew a large sum of money from her and my father's joint account, nearly wiping out the account, and I closed my own sizable account putting all my cash in a prepaid debit card that I could carry without worry. I had my own car so we had transportation--at least the bastard couldn't say we had stolen one of his cars.
Graduation was on a Friday that year and the ceremony was set for 4 PM on the soccer field behind the high school with a rain alternative of the school auditorium. The sun was shining that afternoon and graduation went without a hitch. Diplomas were received with much glee, songs were sung, and the school band played Pomp and Circumstance. By 5 PM, the show was over and the festivities could begin. The school sponsored a graduation party for the graduates and their families. It started well, but my father decided to get rip roaring drunk and started in on my mom in front of the entire student body and faculty. Mom and I tried to calm him down, but he was having none of it and got even drunker until the principal and several male teachers escorted him from the school grounds, delivering him to one of our town's finest for a ride downtown. Little did he know that he had saved us a bunch of trouble because by the time he was released from the drunk tank, his entire family was going to be long gone.
By the time the sun came up in the east, my mom, my sister, and I were two states away and well away from our former hometown. Mom and I had woken my sister up in the middle of the night and told her to get dressed and to get into the car. No suitcases had been packed except for necessary feminine items for my mom and sister. I needed to carry only the clothes on my back. All of us took turns driving for the rest of the night and during the next day until we decided to stop for the night.
We went into a shopping center to buy clothes and three suitcases then found a place to eat supper before finding a motel for the night. I used my debit card to pay for the motel room which had two double beds. My sister fell asleep fully dressed on one of the beds as soon as she was in the room. I tended to mom's wounds paying particular attention to the sides of her breasts and her bruised ribs. The swelling and bruising were going down, but still looked bad. I was tempted to caress mom's breasts but didn't want to push my luck. Again, I took pictures of my mom's battered body.
That night, after printing the pictures on the motel's printer, I put them in an envelope and then mailed the explicit photos I had taken along with an anonymous note to my father's boss telling him who was responsible for the beating. By Monday or Tuesday, the shit was going to hit the fan and splatter all over my father's face. By that time, he would also know that he had very little money left in his joint account.
Sunday was a wet, rainy day and mom was hurting very badly. I sent my sister across the street to a fast-food restaurant for some breakfast take-out. While she was gone, I helped mom get totally undressed and into the shower. She felt miserable and I was hoping the warm water would ease some of the pain. It was a quick in and out of the shower, but I had mom dressed before our breakfast arrived. Mom could hardly keep the food down and I was afraid that my father had really hurt her internally. We decided to let mom get some sleep and kept the noise down as much as we could. I went to a drug store and bought some aspirin and some more gauze pads and tape--the non-sticky kind that clings to itself. A couple of doses of aspirin and mom seemed to be feeling better. I went to the motel office and got the room for one more night while my sister went for a fast-food supper.
After Linda went to bed, mom had me sit down next to her and we talked. She told me of the years of pain my father had inflicted on her and how much she had felt trapped waiting for me to turn eighteen. Then she pulled me down on the bed beside her and kissed me, not as a mother but rather as a woman.
"Caress my tits, Jim. It felt so good earlier when you did it while you were putting that antiseptic on my cuts and bruises. Just be gentle."
"Are you sure, Mom?"
"Yes. Make me feel wanted as a woman and not as somebody's punching bag."
I started running my hands gently over the swell of her breasts and she reached for me guiding my hand to her nipple with one hand and running her other hand over my side and down towards my groin. When I pulled back slightly, she frowned and asked "Don't you want me?"
"More than you will ever know, but I want to make sure this is what you want me to do and what you want to do without any reservations."
"How did you ever turn out to be so kind and caring? It couldn't have come from your father."
"It must have come from you, Mom."
"Jim, I want and need this. I need you to be my lover."
"What about Linda?"
"She's asleep. She won't know anything about this. It will be our secret." About this time mom moved and winced in the process. I noticed and she noticed that I had. "I suppose you're going to say no."
"At least for now, Mom. Go to sleep. You're still hurting too much."
"OK, but climb under the covers and keep me warm and safe." We kept our clothes on and snuggled together sleeping until the sun came up the next morning. Linda was awake and quietly watching TV when we woke up. I gave her some money for another fast-food breakfast and sent her on her way. Mom stripped naked and walked into the bathroom for a quick shower as soon as Linda had left the room. I admired her bruised but beautiful body as she smiled at me.
"Care to join me?"
"I don't think so. I couldn't say that we would be finished before Linda gets back and I don't want her to get the wrong ideas."
"Your loss. Actually, my loss. I really want to feel you inside me."
"Mom..."
