Forcing myself on Mum

Mum was always very elegant. Tall and slim, well-spoken and refined, she had a good job as a PA to the boss of an engineering firm nearby. The day Dad left her was the first time I saw her lose composure. He’d been having an affair with a girl in her early 20s with whom he’d worked before he was made redundant; she was now pregnant, and Dad decided to move in with her.

After that, Mum changed a lot. She started drinking, way too much, and her work suffered. It all came to a head after she ran a red light while driving to work, in front of a police car, failed a breath test, and got let go by the engineering firm, all in the space of one week.

Mum tried to get alternative work, but this was the late 1980s, with massive unemployment, especially in this area in the North, and having lost her driving license after the drink-driving, her options were very limited. As Dad wasn’t working either, and with the imminent arrival of my half-brother or sister, any maintenance from him was never going to amount to much.

Eventually, Mum found work as a clerical assistant with a local bus company. It was tedious work, well beneath her capabilities, but it was regular, reliable work. She kept drinking, though, and the lack of job satisfaction didn’t help in this respect. We had to leave our rented house and were offered a flat on the 6th floor of a tower block.

Every night, Mum would go out drinking, come back home around closing time, and pass out on the sofa in the lounge or on top of her bed. I was 15 by then, and while I enjoyed the freedom and lack of parental supervision, I was worried about my Mum. I used to listen for the lift ‘ping’ as it arrived on our floor. There were just two flats on each level, and our neighbours were elderly and never left the flat after dark, so the ‘ping’ meant Mum was back.

One evening, I heard the ‘ping’ and then several voices. I went to the front door and looked through the spy hole in the door. I could see Mum and two guys. Mum was on her knees in front of one of the guys, and even through my limited view, I could tell she was giving a bj to one of the guys. She then stood up, and I could see my Mum being fucked up against the wall by both of them, one after the other. I wanted to stop watching, but I couldn’t. Suddenly it was all over, and the two guys pushed for the lift as Mum pulled down her dress and staggered towards the front door. I ran to my room, lay quietly in bed. The more I thought about what I’d seen, the more I realised I was getting hard. I wanked as I remembered the scene.

The next morning, I was still thinking about what I’d seen. I was a mix of emotions by then, brooding, upset, turned-on, and even a bit angry, for some reason.

“Everything OK?” asked my Mum.

I ignored her.

“What’s up, sweetheart?”

“I saw you last night. In front of the lift. With two guys.”

“Oh. OK. Well, I can apologise if you are upset, but I won’t apologise for having some fun.”

“I don’t want to stop you from having fun, but...”

“But what?”

I couldn’t find the right words. So Mum continued

“Sometimes when I’m out, guys buy me drinks. And sometimes I want to do nice things for them, because it makes me feel excited too.” I couldn’t cope with the idea that my Mum was getting excited to have sex. My mind was being blown to pieces! I stormed off to school.

That night, around pub kicking-out time, I was by the front door, waiting for the lift ‘ping’. When it happened, Mum left the lift on her own. The next night, she was with one guy, and the night afterwards was the same. She never brought them into the flat. This went on for weeks, and I watched whenever I could through the spyhole.

One night, she was supported by two guys as she came out of the lift. She was absolutely paralytic, but she was still fucked. After they left, I expected the front door to open and Mum to come in. Nothing. I looked through the spyhole but couldn’t see Mum. I opened the door, and she was on the mat in front of the door, passed out. I managed to get her indoors, carry her to her bedroom, and lay her on her bed on her back. Her dress was up, and I could see her legs and her blue lace panties.