Chapter 2 -- A Remembrance of Abuse
Summary of Chapter 1: Michael's mother has discovered that he has been spying on her while she bathed. In furious anger, she confronts him physically and verbally. But the deep emotions of their encounter turned into a moment of lust and desire.
I was sitting on the living room sofa unsure about how to feel about what had jut happened. My mother's angry physical and verbal attack ultimately manifested itself into a sexual experience that I could not have manufactured in my horniest imagination. My heart was still racing, pounding in my chest as I sat on the living room sofa and attempted to make sense out of this night's emotional encounter. Anger had turned to desire, a moment of lust; were the two emotions that closely related? No, I refused to believe this because I had seen too much anger in our home. As a young boy, I had seen and heard my parents go at each other tooth and nail and it had frightened me. Not until my father finally left was I able to experience the kind of deep, caring love that my mother could give; unobstructed by violent anger.
I had heard of people releasing their emotions during times of extreme stress; after the lose of a loved one, after an emotional breakup of a relationship, or even during extremely intimate times like communal prayer. Was this just the same sort of occurrence? It had been many years since I had seen her so angry and emotionally charged. My spying on her, naked and innocent, had definitely struck a deep nerve. Yet out of all this emotion, my mother and I shared a moment of mutual sexual need. The realization of that reality was just beginning to sink in. Although we hadn't had sex in the classic sense, we had masturbated each other to shuttering climaxes. Just the thought of this made my cock twitch again, and though I felt a sense of shame and sorrow at having hurt my mother so deeply and emotionally, there was a renewed fire in my loins and a sense of gratification at having finally entered my erotic holy of holies; sex with my mother.
Reliving the experience again - while it was still fresh in my mind -- I took hold of my hardened cock and replayed the erotic scenes with all their vivid emotion and intensity while I stroked myself in earnest. I could almost feel my mother's soft, sagging breasts pressed against my chest, the touch of her hand on my stiff prick, the heat of her pussy as I fingered her to climax, spraying my seed over her breasts, seeing her sheepishly taste her son's ejaculation. With a shuttering orgasm, I collapsed on the couch from exhaustion and, still clutching my slowly shrinking cock, dosed of, emotionally and physically spent.
It was quite early in the morning when I finally dragged myself to bed and slumped into an agitated sleep. I awoke about 8:00 AM and dressed quietly, not wanting to disturb my mother. Her bedroom door was still closed and I had not heard a peep from there since our furious encounter the night before. Looking in the mirror, I noticed that I had a shiner under my left eye where she had struck me squarely with one of her initial blows. It wasn't the physical pain I minded, it's just that this mouse under my eye would, at least for the next few days, be a visible reminder of our wild sexual wrestling match.
I left the apartment and took a long walk over to the local strip mall to get some breakfast at the small diner I frequented there. All the while, I tried to sort out the events of the previous evening. I have to admit that my heart felt a little heavy and remorseful too. I wanted to make things right between us again, but still, I couldn't erase the supreme pleasure of having touched my mother intimately and having her do likewise to me, no mater what the circumstances.
While I slowly worked over my breakfast, I pondered all these things and decided that I needed to put a plan for reconciliation in motion to set things right between my mother and me. The first thing to do was to seal up the peep hole in order to remove any ongoing suspicion between us, and secondly, I had to confront the issue straight on so that we could deal with it immediately and at least attempt to get past it. On the way home, I stopped at a local hardware store to purchase some Spackling compound and a putty knife.
I wasn't looking forward to facing my mother for the first time after last night but I didn't see any way around it other than to meet the situation head on. With a lump in my throat, I entered our apartment -- 'the scene of the crime' -- but, with a slight feeling of relief, found that my mother had left to go shopping. I found a note on the kitchen table saying as much. With the anxiety of having to confront her when she returned still hanging over me, I set about the task of sealing up the peep hole that ran between my bedroom closet and the bathroom.
With that job done, I settled down on the living room sofa to read the Sunday paper and waited for my mother to return from her shopping trip. Still weary with emotion and a fitful night of sleep, I dosed off again and didn't awaken until I heard my mother's key rattling in the front door lock. It was already late in the afternoon, long evening shadows were streaming through the window blinds. I must have been asleep for hours. She seemed a little surprised to see me sitting on the couch and gave me a nervous smile.
"Oh, your home," she said. "I was out shopping."
"Yes, I saw your note," I replied, equally as nervous and embarrassed as she. Both of our faces showed a reddish glow about the cheeks. "Can I help you with the bags?" I asked as I got up off the couch and headed towards her.
"No, no, I'm fine," she mumbled as she lowered her gaze, hurried past me, and walked down the hall towards the kitchen.
I watched her as she walked away from me. I knew I had to confront this situation immediately but I would have been willing to do almost anything except what I knew I had to do at that moment. Following her into the kitchen, I walked up behind her as she unpacked her parcels and grasped her gently by her upper arms.
