Chapter 2

I took off my coat and hung it on the back of the kitchen chair. I needed a drink. Dad’s explanation of my mother’s illness was as disturbing as her demeanor. She was never a demonstrative person. My parents were not the touchy feely kind. I knew she and dad loved me. However, the business was their life.

I walked downstairs to the media room and the bar. The long drive from school coupled with the shock of seeing my mother’s condition left me tense. A stiff shot of my favorite Irish whiskey would bolster me. When I picked up the bottle, I saw a small tube of Astroglide hidden behind the bottle.

I grinned as I poured three fingers of Irish whiskey and gulped it down. I shuddered and grimaced as the potent liquor warmed my insides.

The Astroglide confirmed something I suspected. During summer break, while working in the family business, I noticed my parents seemed to be standoffish. They were professional but overly polite with each other.

At night, I also noticed I did not hear the faint sounds of lovemaking I grew up with. Those sounds provided fantasy images for my masturbations. I would lie in my bed and try to imagine what they were doing that caused Mom’s yips and moans. I suspected a decline in their sex life.

I knew dad had high blood pressure and took medication to control it. Bits and pieces of overheard conversation suggested it caused some sexual frustration for both. The lubricant indicated they were working through it.

I poured another three fingers and gulped it down. The alcohol helped knocked down the chill and calm me. The warm glow of a nice buzz settled over me. I needed a shower and a nap. I decided to check on mom before I did anything else.

Our home is a trilevel. The kitchen, living room and dining room are on the second level. Downstairs is the media room with the patio just outside. Upstairs are the bedrooms.

I climbed the stairs passing first my room and the hall bathroom. Opposite that was the converted bedroom that was my parents’ home office. At the end of the hall was my parents’ bedroom. Their door was partially open. I tapped lightly.

“Mom, are you decent?”

“Yes, darling! Come in!”

My eyes bucked as I opened the door. Mom lay naked on their California king size bed propped up by powder blue chintz pillows. Her feet with their bright red nail polish were flat on the matching sheet. Her legs were pulled up and her knees spread. Her large breasts filled her chest. Her nipples looked plump and swollen.

The fingers of one hand tugged at her nipple. The index finger of the other hand was just inside the folds of her pussy, sliding slowly up and down. A faint gleam of wetness covered her coral colored butterfly vaginal lips.

“Whoops! Sorry mom!” Embarrassed and, yes, a little aroused, I turned to leave. Most boys fantasize about their mothers. I was no different. Seeing her naked brought back memories of glimpses of her in various stages of undress. As late as Thanksgiving when we were having guests over for dinner, she burst into my room clad only in sheer lace panties and matching bra. Back then her pussy was cleanly shaved. I had just stepped from the shower and had a towel wrapped around my waist.