Smalltaling

You know. There is some argument to be had regarding the type of thing that is and is not ok for mothers to do with their kids. Should you, for instance, offer your kids alcohol as a parent, or is it better to pretend that alcohol is evil and never let them touch it?

It's a weird sort of thing where it seems like it makes sense to be as obstructive as possible, taking all the bad things out of a child's life and keep all of the good things, but realizing that it comes at the risk of stunting your child's social and personal development.

With that said, I am actually twenty. And my mom is almost forty. Her parents had raised her with the belief that one day she would become an adult, but that this day was not today.

So it was a mix of her being informed about sex and drugs and alcohol, but strictly prohibited from talking about it herself.

The result was that after last night's little happenstance, she felt like she had no idea what she was supposed to do, was extremely anxious about the fact that it had happened, and also a bit nauseous since apparently she had half a bottle of wine even before she'd woken us up for dinner.

"Listen." I said, pacing the living room, wearing only my underwear as though to add weight to what I was about to say. "Yesterday was pretty great. I understand all of the implications of last night. Don't think that I don't."

Sveta's eyes followed me, patiently listening to what I was saying.

"But with those implications in mind, I still do not actually see any real moral or ethical or otherwise issue with what we did."

"I'm a terrible person." mom groaned, looking out the window. She was biting her nails and trying to keep her eyes open. "I should have put my foot down. Or closed my legs. Or something."

"No, listen. Listen." It was only five in the morning and even though I had managed to sleep for something close to four hours, I felt like there was still some alcohol left in my system. "Listen. A bad person ... kills people. Or steals stuff. Right?"

"Right." Sveta nodded in my support.

"A good person does good things." I continued, losing some confidence in my ability to conclude this train of thought.

"Right!" Sveta nodded again. "And last night was good! I think it was good."

"Oh shut up you two." mom snapped. "This can and will never happen again. We won't talk about it. This didn't happen. Do you two understand?"

"That ... just feels like such a waste." I said, crossing my arms across my chest. "That feels like a major step backwards. I'm not saying that we need to have joint masturbation sessions or anything, but what we had yesterday was an amazing night together. We should at least be able to talk about it."

"Mind your language." mom said, but with a bit less conviction. "I can't be the ... crazy neighbourhood lady that marries her own children and lives off of their salary and you see her in the backgrounds of pictures that you take with your friends and she just creepily stalks people, rubbing her cooch on trees and lamp posts."

"No, you can't." I agreed. "But that's not what's going on either."

"I think you were really nice last night." Sveta added. "It wasn't weird at all, not after the initial ... you know, surprise."

Mom threw her hands up in the air, but couldn't think of anything to say so she just stalked out of the room into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

Sveta and I exchanged glances and shrugged. We'd have to sit that one out, it seemed.

I slumped down on the couch next to Sveta. She was wearing her t-shirt and panties, but nothing else on.

"I can't sleep right now." I sighed, rubbing my eyes. "I feel like we have to deal with this today."

"You were the one that said that time ... something about time. How it solves problems."

"Time changes perspective." I nodded. "That's true I guess. Speaking of which, what is your plan with your parents? I never got the full story on what happened yesterday."

"Yeah. I didn't want to talk about it." she nodded and looked away. "They are ... they are ... just so fucking difficult to talk to."

I could hear the frustration in her voice. Her hands were clenched into fists and though she didn't realize it, for a split second, I saw real anger on her face.

"I know that they really care about me." she said finally, looking at me. "If I didn't know that, I would have run away years ago. But they care. They work so hard to make my life better. But everything they do is just another complication for me to deal with, you know?

For instance. Two years ago, when I was graduating high-school and starting to learn some basic programing, they bought a summer house in south of Sweden. Their idea was that it would be fun for me to relax, swim in the pool, hike in the forest.

In autumn of that year, I started university and was up to my neck in work. Not even homework, just a ton of work at university. Projects that took hundreds of hours of work to complete.

Can you guess where I am going with this?" she asked, pausing for an answer.

"So. I guess while you were busy working, they wanted for you to relax and send you out to the summer house?" I guessed correctly.

"Exactly. Every weekend I agreed to go with them to that fucking place on the condition that I could bring my laptop. Every weekend we would have this war about me bringing a laptop. They don't believe that what I am doing is work. They seem to think that C and assembly are just video games. I have tried time and time again to beat into their heads that everything in the world is now run by computers, but for some bizarre, messed up reason they are convinced that it's all just science fiction."

She was getting more and more heated, louder and louder the longer she spoke.

I nuzzled my face into the crevice of her neck and kissed her there. It was as though I had turned a valve to let out steam, I could feel her calm down instantly. Flipped a switch to calm the storm.

"I see why it's a problem." I nodded. "Would it help if you tried to suggest things that they could do that would actually help you? Rather than just shoot down the things that they are doing already?"

"Not really. Their whole issue is that they want me to be a lawyer or something like that. A profession that they recognize. I've pointed out that even if I was to be a lawyer, I would still be using a laptop. But they do this annoying thing where they just smile and shake their head like I don't know what I'm talking about. 'Lawyers don't have to use a computer if they have a degree.'" she said that final part mockingly. "It's like they both had one wish granted to them, and what they wished for was an additional chromosome."

"That's mean!" I laughed. "I'm stealing that."

"Feel free to use it." she said, but with no real humour. "But that's why I don't want to see you and your mother get into a fight over this. Don't get me wrong, last night was fucked up. But it also kind of wasn't. I can't put my finger on when exactly it all became so sexual, but it felt surprisingly natural. At least you two talk in a way I can comprehend. You're not aliens, you're just confused."

"Well gee, thanks." I said sarcastically, taking the criticism on the chin.

"You know what I mean." she just waved me away. "I want things to be good between you and your mother. I don't know how I can help."

"Right now, let's just not ... push things. Let's stay around here, be accessible and approachable for further conversation. And let's make coffee."

I got up to turn the kettle on and perform that little bit of chemistry, where I would mix coffee powder with sugar powder. The moment when the two mixed made me feel like I was performing a science experiment.

But as I got back to the couch, Sveta was already asleep. This created a dilemma. On the one hand, waking up to smell of fresh coffee is one of life's treats. It's like God was sitting one day, thinking "Their lives look miserable. How can I up their standard of life to keep them from revolting? Hmm. Oh, I know, coffee in the morning."

But on the other hand, she looked so sweet, snoozing there on the couch.

As my heart couldn't bear the thought of waking her up, I put the coffee on the kitchen bench and grabbed the covers from my bed to cover her up, keep her nice and warm.

After that was done I sat down on a chair in the kitchen and surveyed the land. There were clothes more or less everywhere. My clothes-filing system – where I had dropped clothes into one pile on the floor – had failed me, since that pile had somehow gotten strewn around the room.

I took a sip of coffee.

How had we even managed to land my bra on one of the cushions? It looked almost like someone had picked it up after the fact. Why would someone pick my bra up?

I imagined Sveta picking it up, looking around the room to check if anyone was watching and then sniffing it.

I took another sip of coffee.

Although I'd never walked around the house wearing nothing but panties, it felt surprisingly comfortable and natural to me right now to sit in the kitchen, wearing next to nothing. I lifted the warm cup of coffee up to my left nipple and felt a nice, warm feeling spread through the whole tit. It felt surprisingly good. Is there anything coffee can't do?

I took a third sip.

I was sitting in a kind of 'manspreading' position, leaning forward slightly with my legs apart. I hadn't planned to masturbate right now, and it didn't really feel like this was a good time for it, but as I shifted around on the chair, I felt with my soft, sensitive mound pressing against the flat shape of the chair. Somehow – having only my panties between me and the chair made it really erotic for me.

Looking up at Sveta and then at mom's room's door to confirm that they weren't watching, I took my panties off completely.

I took a second to appreciate the feeling of being completely naked in the kitchen, drinking coffee. I'd never actually done this before. I looked out the window, at the people – well, at the one person – walking around. Life was still normal, this wasn't the end of the world.

Out of curiosity, I put the cup of coffee to my crotch. The warmth of the cup made me sigh in pleasure. For a moment I just sat there, nursing the cup between my legs, slowly moving it up and down.

Last night I'd had the opportunity to taste some grade-A vagina, but I hadn't tasted mine – was the thought that occurred to me, as I was sitting with a warm cup of coffee pressing up against my cooch. Looking up again to make sure that no one was watching, I pick up the spoon from the cup of coffee. Turning the spoon so that it was turned a bit like a key, I slowly pushed it into my vagina.

Once it was inside, I turned it horizontally and scooped out some of the juices. It would now be mixed with the taste of coffee, but as far as I was concerned, that was a major improvement anyway.

I licked the spoon.

It wasn't bad. I mean, it wasn't anything amazing, but it was alright. It tasted kind of like how a vagina is supposed to taste.

I ran a finger along the labia, slowly playing with the juices that had been produced down there. It felt really good, sending up signals of pleasure that spread through my spine.

I pressed my palm against the upper part of my crotch, massaging the general area of the clit. I was so wet at this point that even with small movement, I could still hear wet sounds coming from my vagina.

Letting my thumb keep the pressure on the clit, I moved my index finger into my vagina and then rubbed with both thumb and index finger.

Though I didn't really have a set routine for how I masturbated, this method was one I would often use. There was something about one finger being on the outside and one on the inside, as they rubbed the flesh in between, that was incredibly erotic to me.

My other hand played with my nipples, pinching them lightly and pressing them into my chest. It was nice to feel the warmth of my hand against my bosom and the pinching sent off tiny waves of pleasure through my body.

I added a second finger to my vagina and starter rubbing faster and harder. I hadn't sat down to drink the cup of coffee with the intention to masturbate, but there was no going back now. Like the soldiers sitting inside of the Trojan horse, I couldn't just leave. I had to finish what I'd started.

My hand moved faster and with increased intensity, squelching sounds came from my vagina with every movement of my hand. I looked up to see if anyone noticed, but the apartment was quiet. Normally I would be terrified of the idea of getting caught, but right now that same idea just made me even hornier. I didn't know, to be honest, what my mom's reaction would be if she came out of her room right now to find me masturbating, my panties on the kitchen table. But according to my horny, juvenile imagination – there were a lot of good things that could end up taking place.

She could come over to me and hug me from behind, her large, soft breasts pressing up against me. She'd grab one of my tits and massage it. Her other hand would stroke my head. And my cheek. And then she would put a finger in my mouth to let me suck it.

I was so incredibly close to an orgasm right now, my fingers had lost all sense of order down there and were basically going berserk on my vagina, my left hand pressing my labia as my right hand moved in and out, simulating the feeling of getting fucked.

My imagination asked for a few more seconds to finish the scenario, but my vagina told it to just shut up for a second.

I bent double as I came, my body shaking with the orgasm. I lost all sense of spacial awareness and almost fell off of the chair I was sitting on as my vision went red for a few seconds.

"Holy Jesus." I said, or maybe whimpered.

As far as random orgasms go, this was one of the better ones. Absolutely somewhere up near the top. I looked down at myself and noticed the pool of juices on the chair. Damn it. I got up and grabbed a few tissues to wipe it off, but in the process my post-orgasm juices ran down my leg.

I quickly wiped those up too and decided that the right thing to do right now was to take a shower.

As the hot water covered my skin, the warm jets stimulating my scalp, the heat of the water loosening tension in my shoulders, the lack of sleep finally started catching up to me. I swayed in the shower much like how a tree sways in a nuclear blast, almost slipping and falling once or twice. But I prevailed.

For some reason I felt like shampoo was a terribly irritating thing to use in this moment, and so I went for regular soap to wash the key areas – arm pits, bum and crotch, but let the water take care of the rest on its own. Hell, I was clean enough, right?

The longer I stood in the shower the more I let my mind wander and unwrap itself. And the more it unwrapped the more anxious I became.

Shit. I fingered my mom.

My girlfriend ate my mom's vagina. Shit.

What did this mean for me and Sveta? Had we technically cheated on each other? Would she expect more attention from my mom in the future? Should she?

And what would mom do now? I tried picturing myself in her position and realized that I couldn't. I had no idea what she was thinking right now.

She had seen me grow from a teeny-tiny girl into the woman I am right now. I say 'woman', but that term is probably contested.

The stereotype of a teenager – and I am not a teenager, having finally reached my glorious twenties – is that we yearn to be seen as adults. But I've never been like that. I never asked for more authority or acceptance. I was fine, really, with being told what to do – as long as what I was told made sense. I've always been fine with being the younger, less experienced person. In a way, that made things more liberating, gave me more leeway to do whatever I wanted. If I was told to clean my room, the task itself was pretty straight forward, but the parameters were set by myself.

What that meant was that I could easily just refurnish my room instead. I could throw everything in the room out, or swap out my bed for a futon, fill my room with boxes or turn it into a painting studio. There was no real 'fail condition'. And the person who'd given me the command – ie my mom – would have to deal with the consequences of my actions based on her instructions to me.

So having never really seen myself as an adult – beyond the biological aspects, like pubic hair and menstruation – I couldn't really imagine what mom was going through right now. Was she feeling like she had been dis-empowered? Maybe that she had somehow been cheated or tricked into engaging in sexual activity with me and Sveta? Like we had ganged up on her?

I shook my head and turned off the water. Thinking about these things in isolation never did any good. With no new information I had no way to form an accurate view of the situation. In fact, the only way for me to know what she was thinking was to ask her.

Bracing myself for whatever might happen in there, I put on a t-shirt and one of my long skirts. One that could be unclasped at the waist a bit like a curtain, rather than forcing me to bend over to put it on over my legs.

I knocked on mom's door and entered after a heart-beat's pause.

"Oh." I stopped and looked, frozen in the doorway.

"Don't worry, I'm not doing anything crazy." mom sighed, as she put a dress on the bed. "I'm off to work in one hour, I don't want to look too homeless."

"Ok." I said, still working words into my mouth. Though I'd seen quite a lot of her last night, I hadn't really seen her fully in the nude before. Well, almost fully nude – she was wearing black stockings. "Wait, you're working today?"

"Well, it's a monday." she said. "You have school today too, don't forget that."

"That's awful." I groaned. "I'm dead tired. But I wanted to talk to you ..."

She stopped what she was doing and sat down on the bed.

"I know." she said. "But I don't ... I feel like we don't have time for it right now."

"I just need to know what you're thinking!" I said quickly. "I don't want you to go to work thinking like you'd done something bad. But I also don't want to be sitting here, thinking that I've taken advantage of you. I don't know what you're thinking. And I need to be sure that you're not stuck in ... in some kind of a negative loop."

"You taking advantage of me?" she said in a surprised tone of voice. She rubbed her eyes and swept her hair back, as though to let air cool her head. "I ... I have needed something. Something that could make me feel good. Being a single mom is hard. Being a single woman is hard. I always feel like I should put you first in every situation and myself last. But ... at the same time, I feel like I haven't actually changed as a person. Even though I don't sleep around with men, doesn't mean that those urges have vanished somewhere."

"You know I wouldn't stop you if you wanted to be with someone." I said, just adding to the conversation.

"I know. That's why I make that choice myself." she nodded. "I don't know. Maybe I'm really stupid. But what happened yesterday was in no way your fault. I just needed it so goddamn bad that I couldn't put my foot down."

"You know." I said, sitting down next to her on the bed. Although I'd just masturbated, the heat of her naked, gorgeous body made my crotch heat up again. I decided not to ignore it for now. "I thought that – as it was happening – that I'd been given this amazing gift. I couldn't believe my fortune that I would be able to do something like this with you. For years we've just been mother and daughter. Just arbitrarily aloof, never quite connecting. But yesterday we connected. We connected so hard. I don't want us to go back to how it was. I want us to remain close. And if we get more out of it -..." I took a chance and put my hand on her inner thigh. "...- then that's just great."