You Want Me to Do What?
Copyright© 2013 by RICHARD the THIRD
I was minding my own business, walking down the hallway to my bedroom when through their bedroom door ... I heard my mother's voice, "You Want Me To Do What?"
"Honey, calm down?" dad yelled back, "All of my buddies and all of their wives..."
"I don't give a tinker's dam about what your buddies and their wives are doing. I was a good girl when we metand I still am! I will NOT do any of your perverted ... things. What's wrong with good old fashioned sex, anyway?" she said.
"MEN!" she said ripping open her door, catching me listening.
"I suppose you're just as kinky as your old man, aren't you?" she said walking away.
"But Mom—I don't know what you're even talking about. What's ... perverted?"
She had stopped, but walked away yelling, "BOYS!" and headed downstairs.
I knocked on their door. "Janie?" dad answered.
"No Dad, it's me Jeff. Pardon me for just a minute. I know this is really personal, but what is it she's going on about anyway? I lost my girlfriend just two weeks agoand she didn't mind anything 'new and improved.'"
"All I've asked her to do to me ... is to give me a blow job. With me possibly ... reciprocating as well. She was raised in a very sheltered environment. We didn't have sex until we were married. For God's sake, don't tell her that I've told you any of this? Anybody in this house with testicles might just loose them, all right?"
"Sure thing Dad, have you ever discussed ... anal?"
"Good God No! To her an ass is only used to eliminate waste. Again, you tell her any of this and we both will be singing castrato in the church choir."
Laughing at that I said, "OK dad, I'm heading downstairs to get a snack before bed. If you don't hear from me in 20 minutes, Call 911!"
"Good luck," he said slapping me on the shoulder and closing the door.
"Hey beautiful," I said entering the kitchen going straight to the refrigerator. I found the fixings for a turkey sandwich. I got out the turkey, the mayoand the milk. I went into the breadbox and found enough bread.
She hadn't moved since I walked in, "Excuse me" I said getting a knife and sitting down.
She moved enough for me to do what I had intended.
"Why did you just call beautiful?" she said now facing me.
While I was making my sandwich, I started a list, "Cute faceand nice dimples."
I spread my mayonnaise and offered, "Pretty blonde hair and upturned nose."
I started grabbing the turkey meat and again added, "Great figure; you look 25 years old instead of ... whatever you are. Would you like a sandwich, Janie?"
She finally moved from where she was standing and sat down across from me, "I am your mother. Why did you call me Janie?"
"What is this anyway, the 50s with women who don't work outside the home, or the 60s, with everyone getting stoned and saying Make Love-Not War?" I asked her.
"I am NOT stuck in the past, young man! I suppose you heard most of what your fatherand I were ... talking about?"
I started to make her a sandwich. I got up, getting mustard for hers and sat back down. I made her sandwich while I said, "Every single syllable, Janie. I believe both of our next-door neighbors did as well."
I poured us each a glass of milk. She picked up her sandwich and took a bite.
"Not bad, for a guy," she said washing it down.
"Thank you, oh goddess of the thin skin!"
"I suppose that you and your father discussed what I will and won't do in bed?"
I chewed thinking the best way to answer this. I took a swallow of milk first. "He didn't tell me what you did like, but he explained what you didn't like," I said moving from across her to next to her.
"I call you beautiful because you are and if I could date you, you'd learn so many new things that over 80% of all women do! Without screaming, of course—unless they're enjoying themselves and just want to yell out my name."
"Yeah right, you have a girl friend; I met her. Isn't her name Melanie or something like that?"
"Her name was Mel, short for Melancholy, which has to be the strangest name I ever heard for a girl. She broke up with me over two weeks ago and it wasn't about sex!" I said.
We picked up our sandwiches and ate in relative calm until we were done. I got her plate and glass and took it all to the sink.
"You're such a good boy. Tell me what girls and boys are doing these days, please? I need to know."
Jees, from mentally castrating all men to 'Tell me about Sex today' - My mother can be jarring at times.
For the next 15 minutes, I explained what boys and girls are doing to one another. I had to explain some terminology and she blushed often, giving me a slap upon the shoulder as her way of understanding.
There was a knock on the kitchen door, "Janie, it's me!"