A Bitch of a Mother
Copyright© 2025 by Lemon Fizz
Chapter 1
I’d came home to hear the radio playing and alone on the sofa was my mother softly sobbing to herself?
It was one of those strange moments when you get a premonition that it would be a moment to remember.
The theatre of seeing my mother Shelia Blake, as a damsel in distress was oddly unsettling. She was an executive with her company; and known as Shelia the Dealer, who gave those around her guidance that she expected to be followed!
I noticed the empty glass in her hand; she had been alone, and drinking?
Although 38, she was still in fine shape and at 5’8” wore a skirt to perfection; with lush tits- not to big - but taunt and spiky; a slim waist leading to those sexy thighs; which were now over-exposed!
I’d stood there, wondering why she was home so early ... and drinking morbidly?
Stroking her hair aside she looked up saying, “Oh, Jonathan! I’m ... I’m so sorry about this.” ... as she self-consciously tugged her skirt towards her knees. Like she didn’t want to look sexy in front of me ... she didn’t want to chance triggering anything like that; not Shelia the Dealer!
And the darndest thing was, it did turned me on! I suddenly saw her in a sort of new light.
In place of ‘she you obeyed’ ... was a yummy mommy! ... One that I wanted to say things like, ‘don’t hide up your juicy thighs mommy! ... pull your skirt all the way up to your hips! ... let me see your panties! - Now; don’t stop crying; I like seeing you cry ... I’ll get my cock out for you to suckle and you’ll feel beter.’ Yea ... seeing my mother softly sobbing ... and apologetic; it seemed the ideal time to take hold of her and fuck her!
But it wasn’t the first time I’d considered the possibility of fucking her! I had some form with it.
I remember her crying when my Dad died three years ago; in a horrible accident at the meat-processing factory. It had been a quick yet bloody end for my father. Mother had been inconsolable; and I had been jettisoned into a no mans land of numbness.
And after the funeral; when we were finally alone together back home, she gave me a warm milky drink with something to make me sleepy; we had cuddled together on her bed; and she got out a tit for me to suckle on, saying that I had to be brave; because I was to be mummy’s little man from now on? I fell asleep. I remember the following morning, my cock felt strangely sore? It remained unexplained but something I masturbated endlessly over; hence my enlarged cock.
As time moved on I had to grow up quicker than normal-having to do things that dad would normally have dealt with - little things - and sometimes a bit more than little. Mom would turn to me for advice and approval on her appearence. It was all part of being Mom’s little man about the house.
I’d found that Mom was easier to handle at the end of the day when she’d had a bit to drink. I would sneak into her bedroom and go through her undies, unloading my spunk in her panties while I imagined her legs wide open and moaning for me.
But then came the day I found a large plastic dildo in her bedside drawer! ... which really stunned me ... It also made me feel so feeble and out of my depth.
So now ... comming back to this present situation, ... suddenly seeing her as a damsel in distress, her bravado evaperated, was a sort of strange turn-on for me.
Naturally I sat down with her and asked what had upset her, but she shrugged me off with embarrassment.
So I sat there feeling awkward for a while before she turned to me. She took my hand and began sharing the source of her sorrow; of losing father; and the lonely nights of being widowed.
I took this to mean sexless nights.
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