"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.
.... There is more of this story ...