Election Daze

by

Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Ma/Ma, Mult, Consensual, Drunk/Drugged, Rape, BiSexual, School, Incest, Mother, Son, Brother, Sister, Group Sex, Orgy, Polygamy/Polyamory, Interracial, Black Female, White Male, White Female, Hispanic Female, Anal Sex, Exhibitionism, Oral Sex, Squirting, Voyeurism, Politics, .

Desc: Incest Sex Story: Samuel Feldman still lives with his mother, who is closer in age due to how young she was when she bore him. However, he's not a loser. He's a history teacher and he has a girlfriend that his mother seems to dislike, as well as a gay ex-boyfriend. Things change on Election Day, starting with a fight with Mom.

It was Election Day, I knew, and quite frankly, I was in no mood to deal with Mom’s crap about politics. She had her politics. I had mine. I was thirty years old now to her forty-three ... Yes, do the math, Mom had me when she was thirteen. I get it, okay! In actuality, Mom and I got along reasonably well most of the time, despite living together here in what had been Grandma’s and Grandpa’s place before their tragic deaths, five and six years ago, respectively. I had a decent job as a schoolteacher, which, while it didn’t pay a huge amount of money, was one that I enjoyed and at least helped pay the bills when combined with Mom’s salary from her receptionist work for a doctor’s office.

Anyway, it was Election Day and Mom was going to head out to vote before work, while my school was closed because it was school was always closed on Election Day and the middle school where I taught was always a polling place. I had, however, volunteered as a poll worker and had been assigned to the very same spot for my duties that same day. So, there we were, eating a breakfast that I had prepared for us (boiled eggs, applesauce, and toast, not really bad breakfast), when Mom began asking me if I planned to vote that day and what my work schedule was.

“Well, actually, I’m a poll worker and I’ve already voted. School’s closed because it’s a polling place, remember?” I observed, putting a bit more salt than Mom would have liked on my eggs (and I know that she noticed, because she gave me a raised eyebrow), “I’m going to work at the polls, go to Sandra’s, and probably watch the results with her over a nice, cold beer and some fajitas.”

“Are you still dating Sandra? Really? What’s with you and her, anyway? I thought that you were gay! Now you’re dating girls again! How does that work, going straight after being gay for a bit? Can you make up your mind which one you are?” Mom shook her head for a bit, “That last boyfriend you had, Ethan, he was kinda cute for a fag. Sorry, no offense, but he was. Think that a cougar like me could turn him?”

“Well, first of all, I’m not gay. I never was. I’ve dated men. I’ve dated women. I’m currently seeing Sandra, who, yes, is a woman the last time I checked. I’m not straight, either. I’m bisexual. Ethan, however, is gay, so I don’t see much chance, though if he had any straight in him, he might go for it. He always liked your fashion sense and your taste in wine. As for the ‘fag’ bit, I must object to that. He’s a good guy. We just couldn’t work it out because I’m bi and there were some other issues. But he’s a good guy overall. You should hang out with him. He works for the Clinton campaign, I believe,” I clarified.

“Ugh, Hillary, and he and I had such promise! Why in God’s name would anyone want to support her over Donald Trump? Is it really just about gay rights for him, because Donald isn’t anti-gay, you know. He’s endorsed by that PayPal guy, who is gay himself. He is supported by the drag queen Caitlyn Jenner, too. Anyway, bisexuality is a myth. People are either gay, straight, or confused. And Donald Trump is going to make our country much nicer, even for your Mexican friends like Sandra who think that he’s the Antichrist or Hitler or something. He’s not out to throw all Mexicans out, just the illegal ones. Those and the Muslim types, you know, the ones that like to behead Americans. Why are they even in America if they hate us so much? They’d behead Ethan, too, given a chance,” Mom rattled on, freshly reminding me that, yes, she was a Republican.

“Mom, Caitlyn Jenner is a lifelong Republican, so, I’m not surprised that she backs Donald Trump. She’s also a transwoman, not a drag queen. She’s a woman, just like you, even if she has a dick and some balls. And she’s rich. Rich people tend to support Republicans for the tax breaks. It’s a rich man’s party, not a party for the working man and woman.

“For the last time, Mom, I’m a Democrat. I voted for Hillary Clinton, and before that, I voted for Bernie Sanders. The Republicans want to do nothing but lay off teachers, force all students into one-room schoolhouses, and cancel sex education. I wish that the Democrats would stand stronger for workers and unions, especially teachers’ unions, of course, but that’s what I believe. Oh, and I’m bisexual myself, so I can personally testify that we do exist.

“Also, most of the Muslims who hate us are over there, not here. The ones fleeing to America don’t like theocracy, ergo why they’re fleeing ISIS! I know plenty of decent Muslims in real life who are nothing like that at all. Hell, a couple of them even drink now and then! Most of them don’t wear the hijab, but one or two do, and one of those two teaches biology, including evolution!

“Oh, and Sandra’s a Puerto Rican. She’s not Mexican. Puerto Ricans have U.S. citizenship from birth. They just don’t pick Presidential electors because Puerto Rico isn’t a state or a special case like DC. I know this stuff. I teach history in middle school. Sandra is a paralegal and makes more money than I do, not that I mind. I do what I like. I like Sandra. She’s cute, she’s funny, she’s nice to people, and she loves the same shows on Netflix that I like. The same kind of games and movies, too. And she’s great in bed,” I added that last part at least somewhat to rattle Mom a bit.

“How nice to know, but did you have to vote for Hillary? I mean, really? And what’s with dating a Latina, anyway? Aren’t there any nice white girls around here that you can date? A friend of mine has a really nice daughter named Ellen, a nice Jewish girl, and I like her despite sharing a name with that silly dyke talk show hostess. It’s easier to deal with you dating guys than dating a Latina, if you think about it. Gay sex doesn’t cause babies and your little sister has given me some grandkids already. I don’t know why you’d want a girl like her, your kids wouldn’t look white and probably wouldn’t behave much in public. Latinos are terrible parents, just give their kids everything that they want! And their music is almost as bad as rap!” Mom ranted a bit while I ate and rolled my eyes.

“Let me guess, I need to meet a nice Jewish girl like Ellen and settle down with her. Why do you even care about that? You haven’t been to temple in over a decade aside from high holy days. Or you’ll settle for just a white girl, but God forbid that I bring home someone who is a minority! Do you even hear yourself, Mom? We Jews were a minority for the longest time in most parts of the world! Look, no, I listened to you once and voted for Romney! I’m not doing that again! Besides, I’ve already voted for Hillary! It’s done and I have to go to work! And, no, I’m not going to dump Sandra, so get used to the idea of grandchildren with brown skin! You know, like Jews have in parts of Israel!” I stormed off to work, letting her clean up the dishes ... I had cooked, after all.

All the way through the voting, I was more than a little distracted by thoughts of my argument with Mom, of course. Mom is a nice enough woman in her own way, but she still has no concept of how lucky she was that Grandma and Grandpa kept a roof over her head so that she could finish school and raise a brat like me for so long. Part of why I supported sex education so much was to keep girls the same age that she was from getting knocked up in circumstances where there were no fine grandparents to step in and help out.

Then, to make things worse, Mom had another baby five years after me, just a month after graduating high school. That was my sister Melinda, mind you. She went to school by correspondence classes and got her degree, anyway, but bye-bye any college fun!

I never found out who my father was, but Grandpa was my true Daddy in every sense that counted, of course. He could be grouchy at times, but he was more than forgiving and caring, especially with Mom. I basically had two mothers, between her and Grandma, of course. I grew up a bit more than Mom perhaps expected, so much so that at times, despite our closeness, I could still surprise her. Serving four years in the Navy, plus doing school while in it, followed by master’s courses that made it easier to teach history, all of that paid off in time, and now I was a tenured (albeit recently) teacher at my middle school.

Anyway, at about noon, it was time for a lunch break, but I didn’t know where I was going to get something for that. That was when Sandra showed up, mail-in ballot in one hand (she kept procrastinating, but luckily, you can turn in your mailed ballots at the polling places where I live) and Arby’s sandwiches with curly fries (and milkshakes) in the other. She wanted to vote, but she also wanted to have a lunch date with me.

“My hero!” I said, while putting the “I Voted” sticker personally on her shirt, and then kissing her sweet lips.

“Was that for voting or for fast food, because I already voted,” one of the voters who just finished up flirted with me, a soccer mom about three years my senior if I had to guess.

“And here’s your sticker! I’m not Madonna, so I won’t offer to bribe voters!” I winked back at the voter, who giggled and showed obvious relief when Sandra didn’t act jealous.

“You know, sooner or later, you’re going to have to tell people that you’re in an open relationship. You’re actually still planning to, you know, take advantage of it, right?” Sandra teased me a little as we ate in the front seat.

“But, of course. Just not on Election Day with a voter,” I winked at her, making her laugh.

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