Summary of part 1: The principle, Jack, is an 18-year-old, young man who has just finished high school. He lives with his mother, Jose, in a small maisonette, after his father walked out 5 years ago. Benny, Jose's abusive boyfriend, lives with them, not by invitation but by virtue of refusing to go home to his own place. As Jack listens to his Mom and Benny's nightly sexual activity through the thin walls, he has begun to think of his Mom differently. In
The Beginning
(part 1), Jack had surreptitiously masturbated while his sleeping mom lay beside him, as she was sheltering from Benny's abuse earlier that night. Jack experienced his first sexual thoughts of her. So far, the story has existed simply in Jack's retelling; now the story leaves his mind and continues.
Thank you to the constructive comments from part 1 and especially to "Dirty Old Man" who inspired me to continue and to develop the story. Forgive me if this chapter is not as sexual as you would have hoped, but that part of the story is also developing.
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Silent Night (pt. 2)
The Realisation
The first rays of light filtered through the curtain as Jack stirred from his deep slumber. He had drifted off to sleep a confused and anxious young man. His emotions twisted with insecurity over his feelings and sexual stirrings for his Mother. She had disappeared from his bed, where she had sought sanctuary, sometime during the night. Listening for sounds of life from within the house, Jack stretched and considered the merits of leaving the warmth of his bed. He only heard a deep rumbling snore from the next room; His Mom's bedroom evidently still occupied by a sleeping Benny. Of Mom, there was no audible sign.
Jack's thoughts turned to her. What had really happened last night? Was she awake or even half-aware of his attempt at a clandestine wank lying beside her? Had she knowingly bathed her hand in his fresh cum then suckled on her thumb? Or had she genuinely been asleep all along? He wasn't sure how to find out. If he should find out. But he knew something momentous had changed: he had started to fantasise about his Mother.
Why had he not seen it in the past? She had simply been 'Mom' to him for years, but now she had become his newest object of desire. Last night he had, for the first time, considered her as a woman, real flesh and blood. "Flesh, hmmm"!
Jack racked his memory for evidence of her sexuality. For years, she had been a repressed individual, always covering her body with long flowery skirts and wearing the same baggy blouses day-in day-out. Doors were literary closed to him throughout his teens and he could hardly recall ever seeing her in any state of undress. Her house rules were designed to protect her repression. The bathroom door was always locked when in use, her bedroom door closed at all times and he was forbidden to enter that sanctum. He had observed her wishes, indeed accepted it as the norm throughout his early years, and had only recently considered it quirky. He knew his Mom had been raised in a strict household, her father an Evangelist Minister, her mother equally subservient to him. His Mother's shame had been to conceive Jack at a tender age which had led to her family's abandonment of her. Jack had always know his useless 'Father' had occupied that position in title only and that Jack was not his natural off-spiring. His 'Father' had slumbered most of Jack's life, or so it seemed. Jack considered him to be a lazy pig who had simply existed without purpose in their lives. Now he was gone and good riddance.
No love from the Father, but neither had there been any natural intimacy between Mother and Son. He could not recall a time that she had embraced him, even for comfort. He must have been a small child since last she had offered her hand for him to take as they walked through town or down the promenade. But for sharing a house and holding short conversations about his school work they would have been considered strangers. Nevertheless, Jack loved his Mom and wanted her to be happy. Now, he wanted her to be his.
As he contemplated all of this new awakening, Jack began to understand the source of his own repression, his own awkwardness around girls and the reason for his continued virginity. He tried to imagine his Mother's body unclothed, the size and swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips and the swell of her arse. The thoughts remained elusive as he had no term of reference. His dissatisfaction with his mental images were due to simplistic, simulated reproductions from his pornography playlist; his Mom's head stuck on a porn star's body. He didn't want
Savannah Bash's
tits or
Vixen Fox's
curves; he wanted his mother's. He had to find out. He was finally uplifted from his bed by this new commitment.
He rose and pulled his robe around his shoulders and tied it securely around his waist. It was Mom's rule: no prancing around in pyjamas. He considered unbuckling it in rebellion, then thought better of it. Pulling on his slippers, he opened his door and leaned his head out into the hall. Once again, he listened for reaction, then walked swiftly to the bathroom. Finding it empty, he unrobbed and stood above the toilet basin, cock in hand, he stroked it twice tempting his piss to flow. It did, noisily splashing into the water, blued by the lavender freshener. He aimed higher, directly onto the ceramic to reduce the volume and, as it flowed, he considered his tool in hand.
It wasn't bad, in his own opinion, compared to what he had seen on the x-rated tubes. Not that anyone had actually confirmed his assessment as his cocks only sexual use had been one rub-job, given by Gillian Pankhurst, over the top of his jeans last Christmas. That first contact had lasted at least 4 seconds before he had ejaculated inside his pants. She had shrieked with laughter and ran off, probably to disclose his lack of exploits to her feminine confidants, without waiting for his cock's first, big 'outing'. The gossiping of girls' rumours can be so hurtful, and so it had become as other chances with his female classmates dried up, quicker than the stain on his denims.
He shook the last drops of piss away, then squeezed his cock as he gently, but repeatedly, tugged his foreskin over the helmet in a downward motion as it began to tingle in anticipation. He loved masturbation, but now was not the time.
He stood before the bathroom sink, turned on the water and looked at his face within the mirrored cabinet above as he held his un-soaped hands below the water's flow in a masculine imitation of a hand wash. Handsome was not a word anyone would use. He considered his jawline too wide, his mouth too thin and his roman nose disproportionately large, and weirdly offset, to his green, pinprick eyes. Who could love that!?! No wonder he was a virgin, suppressed sexuality inherited from his mother, repressed in social and sexual relationships and as ugly as sin.
Lifting his night shirt above his waist, he scooped some water and splashed it on his cock, then rubbed his wet hands over his abdomen, washing off the dried cream from last night's orgasm. Completed, he sighed deeply, picked up his gown and stepped out onto the landing. Standing at the top of the stairs, he contemplated direction: to right and to bed and probably a wank, or down the stairs to a coffee. His nose made its choice. A fresh brew emanated from below.
Remembering to properly don his gown before he stepped into the kitchen, he was welcomed by his Mother's small frame and enormous smile. She too was dressed in her long house-gown, as was the rule. "
G'Morning ,love, did you sleep well?
