"Here she comes again
And I'm sitting on my hands
And she sings to me that siren song.
Here she comes again
And I'm biting my lip
But it won't be long.
"This is great!"
Lori looked over at me, a huge grin spreading across her face. Her eyes twinkled mischief - a promise of delights to come. She absently blew at the strands of blond hair tickling her mouth and nose; finally pinning them back to their proper place with a quick brush of her hand.
I looked around at the sparse flat, our new home, and more importantly our first home together. The future looked bright, full of possibility, but at the same time a little daunting. After a hectic five months waiting for the sale to be completed, I had finally flown from the nest. Lori bounced onto the sofa next to me. The springs gave a small protesting squeak despite her modest weight. "This really is great," she repeated. "I've waited so long for us to be together. I know it sounds tacky but its how I feel". I slid an arm around her, pulling her close. I didn't feel the need to say anything and instead just leaned over and pecked her cheek. I looked once more into her eyes, those big round eyes that seemed to bore into the very depths of my soul. Some people would have found her eyes unappealing; too large when compared to her petite mouth, nose, ears, breasts... but I craved their intensity. When sliding into her warmth, I had to avoid looking into her eyes until the last moment to avoid premature ejaculation. Then, when I could hold back no longer, I would gaze into their depths as my orgasm tore through me.
Snuggling close, I allowed my mind to wander back to the strange encounter I'd had that morning, just after the last boxes had been loaded on to the van. Lori had already set off earlier to clean the flat prior to the arrival of the furniture. My mother's strange mood had perplexed me. I was used to her short temper and subsequent foul moods, but was unprepared for her portrayal of resignation and despondency. Lori had never been a favourite with her, although they remained civil. This was due to my mother's worry of being deserted, of being alone and neglected. Ever since her divorce six years earlier, I had tried on many occasions to encourage her to make new friends, with the possibility of gaining a new man in her life, but she insisted she had no interest. I hoped that with my departure she would make more of an effort. Besides, she was only 48, with a figure I was sure many men would find attractive.
She had just made me a cup of tea and had passed the cup to me with the customary "careful it's hot" warning. Rearranging the mats on the coffee table in her usual meticulous fashion and avoiding eye contact she exclaimed, "You know you don't have to do this."
"Mum, we've been through this" I replied agitatedly. "I'm 28 years old. You can't expect me to remain here forever. I have my own life to lead, my own future to think of. Lori and I... "
"I know! I know" she interrupted, waving a hand in the air in a disconcerted fashion. "Of course I'm aware of that, but Lori could have moved in here. This house is plenty big enough, what with three bedrooms. Instead you're moving into a pokey little flat!"
"Mum, Mum" I answered in a conciliatory tone, trying to ignore the fact that she had used the words 'plenty big enough' which never failed to annoy me. If I'd had a dollar every time I'd heard those words, I could be a rich man. She never said "large enough" or just "big enough", but always "plenty big enough" with the emphasis on plenty.
"Look mum, would you and dad have been happy living with your mum and dad?" I could see an argument brewing. Not just an argument, but also the same argument. I wasn't in the mood. There was too much to do.
Up to this point the conversation had followed the usual expected pattern. I placed the cup of tea on to the mat, awaiting the usual response of "but things were different back then", when she amazed me by shaking her head and stating "I'm being silly, very silly, please just ignore me."
"That's okay mum" I responded, trying to hide my surprise. "We'll visit often and you can of course come and stay with us"
Checking my jacket pockets to ensure I had picked up the keys to the van, I began to make my way to the front door. Just as I reached my hand out for the door knob, my mother called "Tim".
Turning away from the door, I looked over at her. She seemed to be busy brushing dust of her flowery skirt, now and again pausing to pick a ball of obstinate fluff that had been left clinging. She seemed totally unconscious of her actions, saying, "I just wanted to say take care - I'll manage!"
"Of course you'll manage" I confirmed. She continued to brush, what seemed to me, imaginary dust from her skirt, now concentrating on the frontal portion. I was about to turn once again to the door when I noticed her hand pause. My eyes widened with embarrassment as her had paused it brushing and remained in the area of her crotch. She then began rubbing herself in a masturbatory fashion through the material of her skirt, seemingly in an oblivious manner. After just a few seconds she stopped and resumed brushing, before turning her attention to the mantelpiece to rearrange some of the ornaments placed along its surface. Opening the door, I said goodbye and made my way to the van.
"... or Coffee?"
I shook my head, returning to the present in the same way one slowly awakes from sleep. I hadn't noticed that Lori had moved from the sofa to the kitchen. Looking over at her, I smiled and said "pardon... sorry I was daydreaming."
"I said would you like a tea or coffee?" She sighed at the vague expression on my face, as I tried to banish the lingering daydream. "Perhaps a bucket of cold water, with a few ice cubes thrown in for good measure would be more appropriate!"
"I'm sorry. You sit down babe and I'll make it."
Whilst waiting for the kettle to boil, I thought back once more to the incident at my mother's house. Surely her act had been unconscious, although I could not recall her doing anything like it previously. I felt disturbed that she should touch herself in such a way in my presence. She had never done so previously. If the act had been deliberate it would have huge ramifications, but was almost equally disturbing if she had been unaware. I pictured her queuing at a supermarket checkout, people whispering to each other, glancing at her with disgusted expressions on their faces,
Carrying the coffee into the living room, I begrudgingly let my mind focus on one other aspect which I had been trying to ignore. One other aspect that all the self-denial in the world could not conceal from my probing mind. My stomach churned, threatening to rebel, and my self-loathing was paramount as I remembered the erection that had accompanied me on my journey to Lori's and my new home. Lori had not been the cause and had been furthest from my mind at the time. Sitting beside Lori once more and gazing into her deep blue eyes, I wondered if I would be able to gaze into them without guilt the next time I approached orgasm, whilst moving inside her encompassing warmth.
As a mild November gave way to a chilly December, the next three weeks passed without any incident of merit. By the second week of December we had the flat pretty much tidied to an acceptable standard. After piecing together many items of flat packed furniture, we began emptying the remaining cardboard boxes and crates into the various drawers and cabinets that we had assembled. Lori seemed to be on a constant high, forever cooking up new and exciting dishes in the kitchen and filling the house with the odours of numerous incense sticks and candles.
Mother had paid us a couple of visits during this period. She had seemed unusually jolly and had helped tidy the place considerably. Lori was grateful for her help too, but couldn't hide a bit of distress at what she termed as "mother's meticulous fussing."
There had been no repeat performance of the strange incident three weeks prior. There was only one occasion during the first of mother's two visits where I had felt slight alarm. She had been tidying up our bedroom and had been transferring Lori's underwear into a small drawer unit I had built that morning. I didn't like her touching Lori's panties, but decided to let it pass. Lori had popped out to buy some much-needed groceries and I decided that, if questioned, I would pretend that I had put her underwear into the new cabinet.
Despite mother behaving in a normal motherly way, I still couldn't dispel the memory from my own mind. I found myself averting my eyes in her presence, unwilling to look her in the face. I found my eyes drawn to her not inconsiderable breasts, which seemed to be putting a startling amount of pressure on the buttons of her blouse, unlike Laurie's small pointed breasts, which were barely noticeable when concealed. In fact, everything about mother was considerably larger than Lori, even her long brown hair did little to hide the roundness of her face. Likewise, the long flowery skirts and dresses could not conceal her plump bottom or the width of her thighs. Saying this, mother's build was not fat, merely an attractive plumpness, made more evident when compared with Lori's petite frame. I tried to scrub this newfound tendency to compare the two from my mind. Mother was mother. Lori was Lori.
Rubbing the stubble on my face, I decided it would be a good idea to have a shave before making my way to the warehouse where I worked. Lori had left an hour before at 7.00 am. Being a waitress at 'Grab-a-bite' required a much earlier start than mine. I had just reached the bathroom door and was starting to remove my dressing gown when a knock on the door interrupted my attentions. Tightening the gown, I made my way to the front door. Upon opening the door, the postman grinned at me, "frosty morning mate - gotta recorded delivery for you" he announced, thrusting towards me a pen and pad for signature.
After mumbling my thanks and closing the door, I began unwrapping the package while making my way once again to the bathroom, bits of torn cardboard dropping carelessly onto the carpet. Having finally removed the cardboard, I was left with a small soft package wrapped in black tissue paper and sealed with adhesive tape. I ripped the tissue paper apart to reveal the contents - a small black silky pair of panties. I recognised them immediately, having had the pleasure of removing them from Lori on numerous occasions. Pushing the panties into my dressing gown pocket I began picking up the bits of discarded cardboard from the living room carpet and made my way to the bin. Laughing, with tears in my eyes, I dumped the rubbish in the kitchen bin and went to sit on the sofa to phone Lori.
As I picked up the receiver, I pulled the panties from my dressing gown pocket. "You've got a great sense of humour Lori," I said to myself whilst dialling her number. "Love your style babe - this one's a real turn on."
The phone was answered on the third ring and a harried voice which could only have been Lori's announced, "Grab-a-bite, how can I help you?"
I bought the panties up to my face, burying my nose in the crotch area and inhaling deeply. Lori, you cheeky girl, I thought to myself. Not only had she posted them to me, but she had worn them beforehand!
"Hello - is anyone there" Lori questioned, sounding a bit miffed. She probably thought I was some dirty caller, especially after breathing heavily in and out.
"Hi Lori, it's me. You're a cheeky minx aren't you, you little devil."
"Tim, what are you talking about? Hurry I've got people waiting, you'll get me in trouble."
I looked down at the panties again. Bringing them up to my face, I inhaled once more. Something was wrong.
"Tim, are you there?"
The scent. The musky scent was familiar but slightly different - somehow richer, deeper, stronger, almost offensive in its intensity. This was not Lori's scent.
"Tim, I've got to go. We'll talk later." I could hear angry muttering in the background; her boss laying down the law.
"Don't worry Lori hon. Love you. See you later."
I let the phone drop into the cradle and looked at the panties once more. There had been another detail nagging at my sub-conscience, just out of reach. It came to me now and my heart started palpitating as full realisation struck home. The panties didn't just have a different scent; they had a different shape. No - not a different shape - they had been pulled out of shape!
I dropped them on to the carpet, in a parody of delayed reaction, as if holding a hot object for a long time and only finally being aware of the fact. Lori hadn't worn these. Thank God I hadn't mentioned them to her. What on earth would she have thought then?
An image replayed itself through my shattered mind. My mother picking up Lori's underwear and moving it to the drawer, turning towards me to smile before continuing the task at hand. She must have taken them. We had been so busy with the task of moving in and commencing our Christmas shopping, that we'd had little time to invite any friends to the flat.
It had to be mother. Mother had taken them; then she had worn them.
Mother had worn them and I had unknowingly buried my face in them. Bending down towards the carpet, I picked them up once more. She must have pulled them out of shape wearing them. They had been far too small for her.
I tried to push away the images that began to infiltrate my mind. I could picture her pulling them up her thighs, the material stretching to accommodate her larger size. They must have clung tightly to her ass, the crotch stretching across her pussy. Hatred began to burn its way through my thoughts. Hatred and self-loathing.
Swallowing forcefully, trying to prevent my stomach from rebelling, I tried to get a grip on the situation. I had inhaled her scent. I had inhaled the scent of my own mother's pussy. The full impact of this kept reverberating in my head. I stood up, moving towards the kitchen, intending to put the panties straight in the bin, with a view to disposing of them before going to work and, more importantly, before Lori returned home.
Just as I reached the bin and opened the lid, I found that I could not prevent myself from bringing the panties up to my face again. My stomach churned with disgust as I sniffed her scent once more.
My heart began speeding up, as if her scent was some kind of narcotic. I had been so wrapped up in a conflict of emotions that I was totally unaware of how hard I had become until this moment. I found myself unable to dispose of the panties; the need was too great.
In a matter of seconds I found myself in the bathroom. I turned on the hot tap and wet my fingers. Rubbing my fingers into the crotch area of the panties, I made them warm... made them damp. I opened my dressing gown and slipped the panties over my cock, making sure the dampened crotch area was nestled tight against the underside of my erection, without covering the head. I began to masturbate, imagining that these had just been removed from my mother's body. As my hand slid up and down, I told myself that it was her hand rubbing the worn knickers up and down my cock. I pictured her sitting on the edge of the bath. In my mind I stood before her. Her skirt was drawn around her knees; her left hand pumping me up and down, whilst her right hand lay hidden beneath her skirt, unseen by me, pleasuring herself.
A long moan, almost an agonised cry, escaped my throat as my cum erupted. Closing my eyes, I held the vision of jets of sperm splattering her white blouse, the buttons seeming to struggle to withhold her breasts from bursting free to greet my jetting sperm.
As the fantasy faded, I felt completely drained, both physically and spiritually. I removed the panties from my cock, grateful that the sperm hadn't touched them. My sense of disgust and shame overpowered me. The encounter had been a fantasy, but the panties remained a reality. I hid them behind some paperwork in the top shelf of my wardrobe and tried to regain a sense of normality as I prepared myself for work.
Throughout the day, I tried to work out what game my mother was playing. Was this a one off or did she have a secret agenda planned out. More importantly, I thought about how I should respond. I couldn't help feeling that I was a mere pawn, moving in one direction, with my mother being the queen with full control of the board... and my sanity.
A dream full of dark desire and forbidden acts kept me in its dark embrace as I slowly awoke to a new day. The room was still clothed in darkness and, turning to look at the alarm clock, I noted that it was only 4.32 am in the morning. Lori lay beside me on her side. My erection throbbed, almost painfully, between the cheeks of her ass. Segments of my dream remained with me; images of mother on that first fateful morning, touching herself, along with fictional images of her beckoning me, lying on a bed, gradually pulling up her skirt, legs slowly opening. I tried to recall the dream in its entirety, but the rest of the images slowly dispersed like vaporous ghosts dissolving in the light of reason.
I ran my hand over Lori's ass, moving further down, nudging her left leg with my thumb to allow me better access to her pussy. I slipped a finger inside testing her wetness, her readiness. Foreplay was out of the question; my need was too great. I needed to enter her now. Lori was still half asleep as I turned her over onto her front. Positioning myself between her legs, I parted her pussy lips with one hand whilst easing myself into her. She wasn't quite ready. In my selfish need I hadn't aroused her sufficiently. Grabbing one ass cheek in each hand, I opened her further. If it wasn't for my high state of arousal, I would not have been able to gain access. I pushed hard, finally burying myself deep inside her cunt and began pounding her roughly. The added friction, a product of her dryness, somehow increased my urgency.
"Owwww... Tim... please... slower!"
Ignoring Lori's plea, I grabbed her ass cheeks harder, digging my nails into her tender flesh, and moved faster within her. Images of mother wearing Lori's black panties plagued my mind, her hand rubbing the material against her pussy lips, her fingertips becoming wetter, as the material failed to contain her moisture. With one final thrust I emptied myself into Lori, biting her shoulder hard as the orgasm tore through me. Panting and feeling weak, I remained laying on top of Lori, waiting for my breathing to return to normal and the tremors to subside.
After withdrawing, I began to stroke Lori's hair. She knocked my hand aside roughly and turned to face me. Tears in her eyes, she exclaimed "You... You bastard Tim!"
Attempting to hide my shame, I replied, "I'm sorry hon."
Pushing the duvet to one side, Lori slipped out of bed. "Sorry! I don't think 'sorry' cuts it somehow. You hurt me. Look at my shoulder, you've drawn blood."
Looking into her eyes, forcing myself not to allow my humiliation to force me to break contact, I attempted to placate her. "I didn't mean to be rough. I apologise if I was a little wild, I just needed to make love."
"Make love!" she screamed at me. "That wasn't making love; it wasn't even fucking. It was... It was rape!"
I gave a nervous laugh. "Rape, oh come on Lori, don't be absurd. You're my partner. You're over-reacting, I hardly think that rape is an appropriate word."
She walked around to my side of the bed and leaned over me. Specks of spittle splattered my face like venom. Still livid, but with a hint of sarcasm creeping into her voice, she fumed "I think you'll find Tim, that the definition of rape is to fuck someone without their consent, whilst using force. I'd say that pretty much sums up what you just did!"
I looked at her aghast. "You didn't ask me to stop. You just said slower... "
"I'm not stupid Tim, you wouldn't have stopped anyway. I don't know what's wrong with you lately, but I think you should either talk to me about it or see a doctor. This can't go on."