(Reader: welcome to my world. In reading this work of fantasy, you come, symbolically into a world that I create, where normal reality gives way to the reality that I fashion. You're invited to come and spend some time here, reading the fantasy that I'm presenting. If it's not to your liking, you're invited to leave. Be assured that no one was injured in any way by the writing process here.The fantasy is totally mine and remains essentially a vacation of the mind for you to enjoy. I wish you the joy of it. Matt Watt)
The fact that things were finally settling down for Susan Sutton was a major blessing. She was, of course, kind of torn about Don, her husband's, her forever wandering and philandering and screwing around husband's leaving. It took an element of stability from her life, actually from hers and their son James' life but she really believed that he was better gone, gone off with his latest, 'she's young and that means that I'm not getting older' dolly.
"After all," she reasoned with herself, not without justification, "He was hardly here anyway."
He no longer bothered with sex with her, not that it was ever really great for her but he just hadn't bothered very much for these past two years, leading to his dramatic announcement that 'he was in love' and leaving.
She actually smiled, when she thought of the settlement that he gave her, so eager was he to get into his new dolly's panties legally, as if he weren't already in her panties regularly.
But that wasn't Susan's problem. The sexual tension wasn't her problem any more, or the lack of sexual tension wasn't her problem any more. Don was finally gone. The house was hers, totally. A more than generous and adequate income was hers from Don's business. The alimony was hers, and she was doing fine.
She also reasoned that she'd be able now to concentrate on James. She was sure that he had picked up, in these past years, on the tension between her and Don. She realized that 18 was a difficult age, especially when your parents, when you were that age, propelled you into full adulthood with one dominant move--the divorce.
She felt that she had some making up to do with James. He had in fact been brooding during these past weeks, since she told him that this latest move of his Dad's wasn't another of his 'business trips', as he liked to call his forays out to fuck the world's young and shallow women, was not just that but was in fact him moving out totally.
She knew that James' broodiness had to be dealt with as soon as possible and was hoping that they could renew their relationship and become a better Mom and Son team. It was her hope now and what she was going to concentrate on.
She also felt a need to at least do a kind of mental inventory for herself. There were things that she needed to think about, consider and see if she could arrange or at least straighten out for herself.
Those reflections, some of them at least, were done in the darkness of her room--she sighed with the thought of it, and, she realized, the joy of it, of calling it 'her room' now--when she was alone with herself and her thoughts, and often enough, these days with her fingers rubbing and searching at and between her vagina's lips.
Susan had never been one for masturbation but sex with Don had been so vanilla and so lacking in passion. She found herself, over those years, to slowly and gradually allow herself the indulgence of masturbation. She always thought it 'dirty', from those parental lectures that she'd had to absorb and put up with. But she knew that there was at least a part of her mind that was attracted by the 'dirtiness' of it.
And that was something, a place, a state, a part of passion, that she'd never been able to have or share with Don. She'd never let him into that world of sex that she harbored within. It was her secret and one that she'd retreat to in need, although pushing it aside and not dealing with sexual issues became much more easy for her, and her fantasy world was left, for long periods of time, unattended.
"No," she thought, "This is going to be time for James and myself; we're going to deal with his tensions and get these issues between us out into the open once and for all."
She promised herself that she'd start today or tomorrow. It was that simple for her.
The breakup wasn't a big surprise for James. It had been indeed a long time since he heard the sounds of passion from his parents' room. These days he wondered if his Mom's barely suppressed sex sounds were sounds of actual passion or if they were increasingly feigned.
He'd certainly noticed a slackening of civility between them at times. He also discovered his Dad's little secrets on the computer.
James had a natural computer talent and his Dad was functional with it but only just that. With ease, when he was ready to search, James found his Dad's cache of notes from the latest Bimbo that he was fucking, some of them complete with photos.
It was one of the reasons that James was so pleased to stop and see his Dad at work. Don thought it was a sign of a great relationship between them but on James' part it was because he wanted to see in the flesh those babes, secretaries and lower functionaries, whose photos he had naked, dressed in panties and posing like some kind of leering, mindless bitch. He enjoyed being there and talking with them, knowing the secret that he knew.
He wondered more about his Mom and how she was taking it. But there were galling questions about how much his Mom tried. How forthcoming she'd been with his Dad. He suspected that his Mom knew all right about the bimbos and that she'd retreated sexually from his Dad because of it. But there were lingering questions about how involved she'd ever been with his Dad.
He also knew that either his mother's use of the computer was totally innocent or else she was better at hiding her tracks that his Dad was, and he doubted that. She was simply much more of an enigma for him.
Yes, he knew of the problems but there had been a status quo, which now was shattered and a part of him wanted to know why. He felt that he had the right to make the enquiries about it.
It was almost as if he didn't know what to expect from his Mom now. Even if she didn't feel it, he felt a tension now living here alone with her. Running into her, at times, when she wasn't fully dressed. She didn't seem to be bothered by those little slips and scenes, although he had to admit that the sight of his Mom in a robe, and he assumed, panties, in the morning was a stimulating sight for him.
He was surprised at the fact that he began to react to those kinds of scenes, her bending over the washer wearing a wrap skirt that hiked up to almost the cheek level of her panties, and react strongly.
Susan was brooding and recouping; James was seething with questions and vaguely acknowledged yearnings.
She was in the shower; he could hear it running, and didn't even try to push the mental picture of the water running over her tits, and her belly and down to her pussy hair--did she shave?--and over her ass cheeks--nice, nice ass on his Mom.
He thought of jerking off; suddenly liking the thought of jerking off with the mental image of his Mom naked in the shower cruising through his mind. But there was that ever present, nagging, bitch of a concern about his Mom and Dad. Had she loved him? Had she tried? The questions were ever present and wouldn't go away.
It might have been the tension; it might have been his suddenly and finally coming of age; it might have been a product of the rage within him that caused him to do what he did next. But once his next step was taken, he knew that he'd never be able to take that step back.
He got up from his bed and stalked to her room. He was dressed only in a pair of plaid boxers.
He opened the bathroom door, and saw her in the shower, through the plexiglass of the walls, naked, big tits, nice rounded ass, dark pussy triangle. The came the shriek that he'd been waiting for. It sounded vaguely like this, although in the bathroom, with its tiled walls, the din of it and reverberation made it hard to get it all straight:
"James ... wha ... here ... naked ... showering ... out ... wha ... think ... doing ... out now!"
James simply gave in to his emotions at that point. The issue of his Mom and Dad had been driving him around the bend for a time and it all seemed to come to a head in that bathroom right then and there. He shouted; that is, he shouted so loud that he simply drowned out her voice. He shouted:
It's necessary to understand that Susan is not a woman who was ever, ever used to being shouted at. Certainly Don never did. If anything he was always too quiet about her, not challenging, not communicating, and ultimately not caring. She would have really relished the shouting rather than that. The only experience that Susan really had with shouting in her life was her father. He'd been periodically a shouter. But he was one whom she had obeyed with no thought, back talk, hesitation or ranker.
The shout, James' shout penetrated some part of Susan's mind and experience and it simply shut her down. She stopped her protesting; she just stared at him. She stood in the shower with the warm water spilling over her and let her son James, stare at her own nakedness. She woke up a bit at that point and covered her tits with her arm and her pussy with her hand. And he shouted again:
"Woman get those god damned hands down!"
And, following the same kind of mental path that the previous jolt followed, she did as she was told. She dropped her hands. But even as she did, she realized that a new protest was building.
.... There is more of this story ...