Chapter 8

Abigail and Wyatt were best friends. Closer than best friends. They were everything to each other, having no one else. But after their last swim, life on the Grimston ranch changed. Wyatt became distant. He didn’t talk much and avoided contact with his mother. It confused Abigail the first day, but troubled her when that day turned to two and then three, with no sign of going back to normal.

Although the two were alone on the ranch, Abigail was not lonely. Not with Wyatt there. Even when he wasn’t with her, he was there. But she no longer felt that closeness. So now she felt lonely. And that was becoming unbearable.

Why was Wyatt shunning her? Was it because she had teased him in the water, allowing him to see her almost nude body? She still couldn’t believe she had done that, but she had been feeling playful. What was the harm? They weren’t the typical mother and son. They were much more than that. And it’s not like Wyatt had minded. He hadn’t looked away. He had even gotten aroused.

Was that it? Was Wyatt embarrassed that his mother aroused him? That couldn’t be it. He had confessed that her smell had caused his erection. And it couldn’t have been her taking care of that “problem.” She had done that before and he liked it. So why was this time different?

Abigail didn’t remember all that had happened when she had jerked Wyatt off at the lake after the swim. She remembered the beginning, taking his hard cock out and stroking it, doing what she had done before. She recalled being aroused and pasting her body against his, pulling her chemise up, and pressing her pussy to his rump. That was something new, especially her humping him. But the rest was a foggy blur. She had gotten carried away, rubbing her pussy against him, humping out of control. She had been consumed with uncontrollable lust, in a dazed state of passion that clouded her mind. It wasn’t clear to her what she had done to cause the rift between her and her son. Had her sexual aggression frightened him? After all, he was only fourteen years old.

At fourteen, Abigail had been more worldly than Wyatt at the same age. She had grown up in a brothel. She had known and seen things other fourteen-year-olds hadn’t. Wyatt, on the other hand, had grown up isolated on the ranch, knowing nothing about sex other than seeing the animals mating. Had she scared Wyatt at the lake? Had she disgusted him? Is that why he was avoiding her? Was he frightened?

After Abigail cleaned up after dinner, she laid the Bible on the table. Wyatt was wearing his long johns like he always did at night, but she hadn’t changed into the long chemise she wore to bed. She still had on what she had worn that day, a thigh-length chemise, bodice, and full flowing skirt. When Wyatt had begun acting standoffish around her after the swimming incident, she thought it best not to expose herself to him, not knowing what was causing his skittishness.

“Wyatt, come sit at the table. Let’s read tonight.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes you do. It’s not like we do it every night and we haven’t in a while.”

Abigail moved the kerosene lamp next to the Bible and slid the chair out from underneath the table. She waited with her hands on her hips until Wyatt sat in the chair and slid it forward. Then she sat in the chair next to him so that she could read along with him. As soon as her body pressed against his, Wyatt flinched and he scooted his chair away from her.

Abigail moved her chair closer to him. Wyatt moved his away. Abigail glared at him, the days of frustration about to boil over.

“What’s the matter with you?” Abigail asked, sternly.

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. What is it?”

“Nothing.”

She whacked the back of his head. Wyatt turned to look at her with wide eyes, but then he looked down.

“Don’t lie to me!” Abigail shouted.

Abigail waited, but Wyatt remained silent, his eyes boring into the tabletop.

Abigail’s bottom lip stuck out. “Why are you doing this to me?” she asked. Her eyes watered and her chin quivered. Then a tear rolled out of one eye. “Why do you hate me?”

Wyatt’s head spun around and his eyes were wide again. “I don’t hate you.”

“Then why are you acting like you are? You don’t talk to me. And now you won’t even sit next to me. Oh, Wyatt, I miss you so much ... I miss the way it was.”

Abigail grabbed her son by his upper arms and pulled him to her. Still sitting in his chair, he was now leaning into her. With her hand on the back of his head, she smothered his face in her breasts.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Abigail said. “What changed? What did—?” Abigail grabbed Wyatt’s shoulders and shoved him. “See, you don’t even want me to hold you. You got all tense like you don’t want me to hold you. Do I disgust you? Do you hate me?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what? What is it?”

Wyatt looked down. “I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. All we have is each other. You and me.”

“It’s just that, you know, sometimes my penis gets hard.”

“That’s normal. We talked about that. And we have an agreement. I will help you when that happens.”

Wyatt scooted his chair back, the wood legs scraping the wood floor. His face was filled with fear.

“What’s wrong?” a stunned Abigail asked.

“You hurt me last time.”

“I hurt you? When?”

“At the lake. After swimming.”

“How did I hurt you? I thought you liked when I did that to you.”

“Not that time. Well, I did in the beginning, but then you hurt me. You pulled and squeezed it. It hurt a lot. And it was red and sore after. It hurt when I peed and when I walked. I couldn’t even ride a horse.”

Abigail’s hand slapped over her gaping mouth. Her eyes bulged. “Does it still hurt?”

“No, it’s finally better.”

“And you’re afraid I’ll hurt you again?”

Wyatt nodded while staring at his lap.

“I don’t know what came over me that time,” Abigail said. “I promise never to hurt you again. Come to Mama.”

Abigail held her hands out. Wyatt hesitated a moment before rising from his chair. He walked to her with unsure steps. She spread her legs to make room for him, grabbed the front of his long johns, and pulled him to her, wrapping her arms around him.

“I’m so sorry,” Abigail said. Tears streamed down both cheeks. “I never meant to hurt you.”

With her legs locking him in place and her arms hugging him tightly to her body, Abigail kissed the top of his head and then planted kisses on his forehead and then cheeks before grabbing the back of his head and smothering his face in her breasts. She rocked him side to side.