Chapter 1

I guess I should start by telling you something about my mom.

From what I’ve been able to piece together, Mom’s always been kind of a free spirit. My aunt Jenny, who’s a few years older than my mom, told me that they’d [her, my mom, and my uncle Ronni] had a “less than happy” childhood. “You’re lucky you weren’t raised by your grandfather...” I’d heard a thousand times growing up; from both my mom and my aunt.

I didn’t see my grandparents very often, but it was relatively easy to see what Aunt Jenny meant. My grandparents, well ... my grandpa mostly ... were very strict “God-fearing people”. Church every Sunday ... Grace before every meal ... No talking back ... No disrespect was tolerated. Any sign of disrespect was met pretty quickly with a slap to the mouth. Nothing that would knock you off your chair or send you to the hospital ... but certainly enough to catch your attention or make a little kid cry. I was pretty young when I figured out why we only saw Grandma and Grandpa on every other Christmas and the occasional birthday. {My grandmother’s} I’d only been the recipient of such a slap two times that I can remember. The second one had resulted in all of us ... My mom and dad and sister and me ... getting in the car and coming home early.

“You’ll not treat MY children the way you treated us!” my mother had assured him in a voice I’d never heard until that day. I remember Grandma crying and asking my mom not to leave. I guess I was about eight then; my sister Annie was five. I don’t even remember what I’d said in the first place to get that ball rolling ... but roll it did. My father just shut up, got our things together, and hurried us to the car. I guess he wasn’t quite prepared to try and get a rope around that tornado he’d married. Dad wasn’t very ... Let’s say ... confrontational. He opened the passenger door for Mom; for when she was done protecting her children. {I’d seen lionesses on the Discovery Channel with four cubs that were less tenacious.} Then Dad ran around the car and jumped into the driver’s seat. If I remember correctly, he even started the car and waited. I think he was preparing for a quick getaway.

My dad’s kind of a nerdy guy ... Brainy ... sticks to the simplest path. He’s not known for doing too many stupid things. He seems to be the opposite of Mom; not that she does stupid things. It’s just my mom is the kind of person that will do things on a whim; try anything once. She’ll go off the path in a heartbeat. My dad is pretty ... reserved. I often wondered what brought those two together. I remember a while back:

Mom and Aunt Jenny were sitting around the pool and I heard my aunt ask my mom if she was “Allowed” to wear the bathing suit she had on. I was sitting on the steps in the pool when she’d asked. Mom had a really nice two-piece on that didn’t hide one single curve she had and I’m sure more than a few women had paid good money to get the kind of cleavage that bathing suit was showing off. I waited, ear cocked in that direction, trying hard not to look like I was eavesdropping, for my mom’s response.

I was more than a little shocked.

“I don’t have to ask him shit!” She says kinda harshly. Then she leans into her sister a little more. “He can have a say in what I wear as soon as he learns how to fuck!” She tells her with quite a bit of attitude.

I’m sure had they looked over in my direction, it would have been quite easy to see that I’d heard what my mother had said. My jaw fell so quickly that my bottom lip hit the coping of the pool. I couldn’t get the taste of chlorine and bare feet out of my mouth for the rest of the day.

My aunt laughed and then the laugh faded to something more sorrowful as she started at my mom. She no doubt saw the same bitterness that I saw from all the way over on the steps.

“It’s not any better?” She asked.

Mom shook her head slowly, “No. God knows I love him but he stumbles around the bedroom Jenny like a drunk, fat guy with one leg and a limp.”

That picture made me chuckle just a little bit, but it was enough to give away my position. I had to get up and seek a better vantage point if I hoped to hear the rest of that conversation. And I really wanted to hear the rest of it.

I made my way into the house as fast as I could, snuck into the garage and climbed up onto the workbench as quietly as I could. I shimmied the window up just enough so that I could listen. I couldn’t have been more than 15 feet from them and the window was partially veiled by a few tall junipers. Perfect. Mom went on to tell Aunt Jenny that on the few times he attempts to “make love” to her, that it’s “ ... less than satisfying...”. It was easy to see that she loved my dad and didn’t want to bash him but on the other hand, there seemed to be a great deal of disappointment, or maybe it was frustration, in her voice.

Mom looked around, surveyed the immediate area, I suppose making sure I wasn’t around. “Sometimes you just wanna FUCK.” She complained to her sister.

I nearly fell off the bench. I’d never considered my mother just wanting to ... Fuck! A different light was shining on my mom.

“And it might be nice to do it in the car one time, or in the kitchen or on the median of I-43 for Christ’s sake. Just something that has nothing to do with the missionary position.” She went on. “Maybe I should try to get him in a closet where we can’t lie down. Maybe slip into the bathroom with him while the kids are doing something and have a quickie ... Anything!” She griped.

I couldn’t believe my ears.

“I guess it’s not like when you were a kid, huh?” Aunt Jenny pointed out. “Back then you seemed to have no problem finding someone to fuck.” She added.

Holy shit! Mom was a slut, I thought. The light had gotten a little brighter.

“Yeah, well, I’m married now, with kids ... but I gotta tell you, Jenny, I’ve been getting pretty, I don’t know...”

“Horny?”

Mom shook her head. “You know that I play with myself in the bathroom?”

Aunt Jenny smiled. “Well ... no, I ... I didn’t know that.” She stumbled through the words with a huge smile on her face. She seemed pretty happy about my mother’s confession.

“Yeah! And not just once-in-a-while when I take my shower either ... I mean EVERY time I take a shower. I even sneak in there in the middle of the day sometimes ... I just get so horny.”

Aunt Jenny looked like she was letting that sink in. “Have you thought about getting a... “Fuck Buddy”?

I couldn’t believe this was my aunt and my mother talking. God, I wished I could be a fly on the wall all the time when they hung out. {Instead of a clumsy kid with a hard-on on a workbench in the garage}

“I can’t do that.”

“Why?”

I was beginning to think my aunt had no scruples, and quite frankly, that was fine with me. My aunt was quite the looker too; blonde hair like my mom’s, except hers was a lot longer, down to her waist. They shared the same pouty full lips and pretty green eyes. Aunt Jenny was a little heavier, more meat on her, but she wasn’t fat by any means. And her boobs were quite a bit smaller than her sister’s. Actually, I think a better description would be ... My mom’s tits are way bigger than her sister’s. They’re bigger than anybody’s sister’s. I guess when God was giving out big smouldering boobs, it appeared that it was every other sibling that got the blessing.

Anyway: Mom told Aunt Jenny that she was afraid to start some kind of an affair with anyone.

“Suppose Jerry found out? Secret phone calls, getting dressed up to go to ‘The grocery store’. Suppose someone saw me? I couldn’t do it to him. I mean ... I love him. He’s pretty great everywhere else.” Mom told her.

“Well, would you do it if it were anonymous?”

“What do you mean... ‘Anonymous’?”

“Like a glory hole...” Aunt Jenny suggested with a huge smile.

“A what?”

“Oh dear sister, you’ve certainly been a sheltered child, haven’t you?” Aunt Jenny smiled.

“Well, evidently I’m not the whore my sister is.” Mom told her, returning the grin.

“You don’t know the half of it.” She remarked. “Come on, time to surf the Web.” she told my mother. I watched as they got up and went into the house giggling like a bunch of school girls.

Listening to my mother and my aunt talking like that had gotten me pretty excited. It also made me notice, I mean REALLY notice, how really hot my mother was. She’s tall, pretty slim, 110 lbs if I had to take a guess. Maybe she just looked skinny because her tits were so big. I don’t know. All I DID know was that she was pretty hot. I remember thinking my dad must be crazy for not playing with those luscious titties at least twice a day.

From that day on, I kept an eye on my mom. Every time I saw her go into the bathroom, I eased up and put my ear to the door. I wasn’t sure what I expected to hear, but I tried to listen anyways. One morning, I had my ear to the door, and I could hear what I thought was groaning. I tried to peek through the cracks around the door, but I couldn’t see shit. I even dropped down to the floor and tried to look under the door. The only thing I got for my efforts was a rug burn on the side of my face. She was louder now. I could plainly hear her moans, and it was driving me crazy that I couldn’t actually see what she was doing. Well ... I KNEW what she was doing, but I wanted to see her DOING IT. Frustrated, and maybe even a little pissed off, I ended up going up to my room to jerk off. I found that when I jerked off thinking about what Mom might be doing in that bathroom, I would cum like a horse.

For the next few weeks, following my mom to the bathroom and then running upstairs to jerk off became a ritual, but I had to be super careful. I was always on high alert, watching out for my dad or my little sister. It would do no good getting caught with my ear up to the bathroom door when my mother was in there “going to the bathroom” or “taking a shower”. I mean, how can you explain something like that?

What... “I’m waiting my turn and fell asleep against the door.”

“I thought I heard Mom yelling for help.”

Maybe I could just stand there by the door with a roll of toilet paper... “... just in case Mom runs out...”

I had to keep a watchful eye on the narrow hallway while I kept an ear to the door. There were a few times that someone came around the corner heading towards the basement door or the bathroom while I was being a pervert, but if I was paying attention, I could just back away from the door a few steps and act like I had to pee. I’d face the bathroom door, shift around on my feet a little, and act surprised when someone came up behind me.

It was risky, for sure, but it was well worth it. Listening to my mother masturbate behind that door had become an obsession.

I began to think of different ways that I could spy on my mother during her special sessions. Naturally, drilling a peephole somewhere was my first thought. The way the house was laid out, this was the only bathroom in the house. Two walls of the bathroom faced outside, one towards the backyard and the other to the side of the house. The wall paralleling the side of the house was out of the question. There were no bushes or fences to conceal me. I didn’t need one of the neighbours calling up my mom to tell her that her son was doing strange shit on the side of the house. Plus, anyone could just walk around the corner and there I was, out in the open with my eye pressed against the aluminum siding. The other outside wall faced the backyard, the pool. Better for sure. At least there was a fence to provide some privacy. The other wall was towards the garage. That was more feasible. Still pretty risky, but more feasible.

I got my chance one afternoon when my parents took my sister to the mall for some shopping.

I surveyed the work area. There were a few shelves on the wall, but I thought I could drill a hole right at the side of the middle shelf, about the size of a dime, and maybe just let something hang off the shelf a little to cover it.

I got the drill, put a bit in, and was ready to go ... until I realized I had no idea where this hole would come out on the other side. I dropped the drill and headed to the bathroom.

Shit! The best I could figure, the hole would come out on the tiled wall in the shower, about three feet down from the ceiling. That would never do. There’s no way my mom wouldn’t notice THAT. Plan B.

I went outside and took a look at the window. It looked promising. If I could find something to stand on, I’d have no problem seeing in. There was a little cover from some tall bushes, but trying this in the daytime would be pretty daring. I decided that I’d have to settle for the night shift; it’d be safer that way. Besides, Mom took a shower every night ... If I was lucky, she’d be horny most of the time. This was good. I figured that when it was dark out and the light was on in the bathroom, she’d never be able to see me unless she came right up to the window and cupped her hands. I’d be able to look right in.

There was my plan. I wasted no time finding something to stand on. In the garage, there was a relatively small cooler. I made sure no one was around and brought it out to the bathroom window to make sure it would get me up high enough to see in. It did. I stood on it, and it brought me high enough up to lay my chin on the window sill. That was all I needed. I tucked the cooler behind one of the bushes and went up to my room. I couldn’t wait. My dick was already hard just thinking about it.

I locked my door, jumped out of my pants, and flopped down on the bed. I didn’t need any magazines for this one. When I grabbed my dick, I wasn’t sure it was mine. It was thicker, harder than it’s ever been; a tool, a cock to be reckoned with.

I pictured Mom getting undressed to take a shower, slipping her jeans off, then her cotton panties. She stood there, my hot mother, and tweaked her nipples, gently pulling on them, rolling them between her thumb and index finger. I imagine her cupping her hands under each fleshy mound, tilting her head down and pushing her lovely tits up to her mouth. I don’t know if my mother could actually suck her whole nipple into her mouth ... but in my imagination, she had no trouble. She sucked them and bit them softly, twirling her tongue around each one in turn ... then kissed them softly. I heard the same soft moans I’d heard at the bathroom door.

My hand was moving like a machine on my dick. If I could harness that power and use it for the good of mankind ... I would think about that later. Her head falls back as her fingers separate the lovely folds of her pussy. In my daydream, the light glistens off the wetness of her pussy. Each tiny droplet sparkles with her excitement. She moans as her fingers find their place inside her and she begins to fuck herself in earnest.

When she stares at me through the window, puts a foot up on the side of the tub, and spreads her legs wide for me to see ... I’m mere strokes away from cuming. The tip of my dick is swollen and beet red; pre-cum dripping, splashing onto my stomach as I jerked it furiously. I want to see my mom cum, match the picture with the sounds I’ve heard from the other side of the bathroom door, but I run out of time.