Chapter 1

Maria Sammons hefted the grocery bag into the other arm and managed to fumble the key into the door. Thankful to be home, she entered the small cottage and set the groceries on the kitchen table while taking a long look around the small house. It had been more than two years since the robbery and she had not been home at the time, but she was still jittery about coming home to an empty house.

The thirty-nine year old mulatto paused as she glanced into the bathroom and caught her reflection in the mirror. She recalled only yesterday being complimented by a man at the checkout line at the clothing store where she worked as clerk/cashier. Embarrassed, yet flattered, she had thanked him shyly and hurried to finish bagging his purchases.

Being of mixed race she had grown up suffering the slings and arrows from the racists and bullies. Even though a lovely young girl she had almost no dates and had fought insecurities since she was quite young. She hadn’t given much thought to her looks in some time now. True, even though approaching forty, she was still an attractive woman. Her face still held the wholesome good looks she had possessed since childhood, soft and kind, yet with a vulnerability quite evident to anyone who looked closely into those lovely hazel eyes. The petite size she still wore was evidence that her body was also still eye catching, especially her breasts which definitely commanded attention and were the source of many a second look from men and women alike. She was far too modest and shy to attend a workout spa, but she had a treadmill and walked almost three miles every night. That and her job kept her trim and fit.

But Maria Sammons was no longer a woman who gave any thought to her sexuality. The divorce, almost seven years ago had devastated her and she had determined then she would never again engage in any kind of relationship. The loss of husband and son had left her with a sense of worthlessness which haunted her to the present day. She lived, she breathed, but life had no real meaning for her without either of the men who had meant so much, especially her son Kyle.

She could never forgive herself for causing the breakup of her marriage and loss of husband and son. How could she with the ghosts of the past surfacing once again as they always did. Tears glistened and her heart felt that familiar ache, an ache that never quite left and was always ready to come rushing back to haunt her.

Finally, tearing herself away from those discomforting thoughts, she proceeded to put away the groceries and prepare a bite to eat. She had just started the coffee maker when the doorbell rang. Not getting many visitors due to her solitary lifestyle, she was puzzled and perhaps just a bit frightened as she stepped to the door.

There was no peephole so cautiously she opened the door as far as the security chain would allow.

Even through the small opening and although it had been seven years, she recognized him at once. She almost gasped with surprise and delight. Yes, he was older now, a grown man, heavier and muscular. His hair darker and he was wearing a two day growth of facial hair, but it was him, it was her son, it was...

“Kyle!” she stammered, both delighted and embarrassed.

“Hello, Mother,” he returned a bit more formally than she would have hoped.

“I ... I thought I’d never see you again. Please come in!” she beckoned sliding the chain out of the way and opening the door.

He stepped through a bit wearily looking around as she led him into the small living room.

“Yeah, I guess we’re both somewhat surprised to see each other. I guess you heard about Dad.”

“Yes, there as an obit in the local newspaper a month or so ago. I’m ... I’m sorry.”

“Why should you care?” he asked seating himself on the sofa while she took a nearby chair.

“Kyle, I was married to your father for sixteen years. I know we parted under rather bitter circumstances.”

“Bitter? Bitter? That’s putting it mildly. He left and took me with him, vowing that neither of us would ever see you again.”

“I ... I know, but ... Now don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled to see you again but considering the terms of the divorce...”

“Dad’s dead, Mother. I don’t think anyone is interested in enforcing that court order any longer.”

See looked down, evading his eyes, not knowing what to say.

“If ... if that’s the case, perhaps you and I could...”

His voice held venom.

“Could what, Mother? Pick up where we left off?”

“Oh my God, Kyle. NO! Of course not. I just meant maybe we could be...”

“Friends? Somehow I don’t think you and I are destined to be just friends.”

“Kyle, I ... I’ve waited a long time to tell you how sorry I was ... am. I know what I did was reprehensible, but I wanted you to understand why. I never got the chance.”

“Oh, most of that came out in court.”

“Just the hard facts of WHAT I did, not why. I know it’s no excuse, I know what I did can never be forgiven but perhaps...”

“Perhaps, what, Mother? Are you looking for some kind of absolution?”

She was at last able to look at him face to face. “NO, not absolution. What I did can never be forgiven by you and certainly not by your father. I would like you to at least understand what drove me to do what I did.”

She stood. “I’ve got a fresh pot of coffee brewing. Would you care for some? Maybe we could share a cup and I could explain...”

He sat back on the sofa and smiled sardonically. “I’ll have that coffee but it’s going to take a hell of a lot of explaining.”

For the first time, she smelled the alcohol on his breath. He had apparently picked up his father’s habits. She hoped he had not also picked up his father’s temper, especially when drunk.

Hurrying to the kitchen she poured two steaming cups of the brew and returned, setting one cup in front of her son and noticing the slightly bloodshot eyes.

“Kyle, I’m not going to simply criticize your father. He was a good man when I married him; a wonderful man. But he changed. He was passed over for a promotion several times at the office and began drinking. You know yourself he drank too much, and your father was a mean drunk.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that. He took it out on both of us, but what does that have to do with... ?”

“Kyle, it wasn’t just the beatings. He took every opportunity to demean me, tell me how worthless I was, blamed me for his not advancing. He withdrew and I became lonely ... so very lonely.”

“Lonely enough to do what you did?”

“I ... I know it seems crazy ... perverted, but when you came along, I honestly thought things would be different, that with a child we could find each other and restore our relationship, but instead he withdrew even further. I felt I didn’t even know him anymore. You know I don’t make friends easily so I was alone ... except for you.”

“And you think that excuses... ?”

“No, of course not. I know what I did was wrong. perhaps not wrong for me, but wrong for you.”

“Well, I’e got to admit,” he said with a leer, “it was great while it lasted.”

Once again she could not face him and her look diverted to the floor.

“I just didn’t know what else to do ... to get the intimacy I wanted ... needed.”

“You know there are lots of women in the world who are lonely, who need intimacy, but they don’t suckle their own kid UNTIL HE’S SEVEN YEARS OLD! Come on Mother, we both loved it! I may have only been seven but when Dad caught you offering me those huge nipples to suck on while you masturbated I knew it had to be something that wasn’t acceptable. He warned you then.”

“And I stopped...”

“Oh, yeah you stopped ... for all of about six months. You just couldn’t stand not having those nipples sucked and your pussy fingered.”

Again her eyes couldn’t hold his.

“I’m ... I’m ... sorry.”

“And then,” he continued, “when I was almost twelve, masturbation just wasn’t enough anymore.”

“Kyle, please...” she begged him to stop but he would not.

“Your finger just wasn’t enough so you had me give you blow jobs telling me that Mommy just needed to be kissed all over.”

“Kyle, please stop!”

“Stop? I’m just getting started. Remember how you sometimes squirted when you came. You had me drink it calling it Mommy’s kissing honey.”

“Kyle, I can’t ... I won’t...” she began, arising from the chair. But Kyle was already there to grab and hold her while his list of recriminations continued.

“And finally, Mother, when I began to experience erections you wanted it so badly you had sex with your own son ... YOUR OWN FOURTEEN YEAR OLD SON!”

Maria broke into tears. “PLEASE!”

“Remember that first time, Mother? You and Dad were asleep and I had my first erection. I came to your bed in the middle of the night and while Dad slept you gave it to me.”

“Kyle, I...”

“Oh, not that I was complaining. You were good, Mother, so good I had my first orgasm right then and there. And I wasn’t the only one who orgasmed. I remember how you put your hand over my mouth so I wouldn’t groan and wake Dad and how your body shook and you squirted when you felt me cum inside you.”

Maria could no longer offer any resistance. She wished at this moment she could simply find a hole and crawl into it and never come out again.

“Remember, Mom, how after that whenever Dad would be gone to work you would seduce me, starting by undressing for me, letting me suck those beautiful nipples, then suck you off and finally how you’d take me around the world, giving me every hole in that gorgeous body?”

Maria was openly sobbing now, the guilt and pain rushing back full force to tear at her, remind her of her worthlessness.

“And remember how horny we both were? As I got older we couldn’t keep our hands off each other, how I fingered you on that streetcar and you came so loudly that everybody turned to see what was going on and we both just smiled. Remember how we tempted fate by screwing while Dad was in the house. How about the night Dad was watching TV in the living room.”

“But you...” she offered weakly.

“Still making excuses. You were hornier than I was. Oh, I was glad to get it. You were a great lay, Mom, but that night you were the one who leaned over the kitchen table almost in sight of Dad, pulled up your skirt and offered it to me. And yes, I took it. Hell, I was a horny teenager and here was a beautiful woman offering me a piece.”

Kyle smiled. “Do you remember that we almost got caught.”

Maria could not bring herself to smile but the corners of her mouth curled upward slightly and the mood lightened a bit.

“I ... I remember you were behind me and I just caught sight of your Dad’s shadow walking toward us.”

Now Kyle actually laughed. “You dropped to the floor to try to get your skirt pulled up and I turned away to get my pants zipped. Problem was I turned so fast I damn near shattered the family jewels on the corner of the kitchen counter. When Dad walked in you were in the middle of the floor. As i recall you made some lame excuse that you had dropped one of your vitamins and you were trying to find it. My face had to be blood red and I was holding my breath to keep from screaming in pain.

Maria could not help herself. A small snort of amusement escaped her mouth.

“Lucky for us both it was you he talked with. I don’t think I could have gotten a single word out of my mouth,” he laughed.

Noting her amusement, Kyle decided to steer the conversation back onto more serious matters.

“Then,” he said, “there was the night he did catch us.”

“Please, Kyle, let’s talk about something else.”

“If you’re willing to remember the good stuff, then you should be willing to remember the not so good stuff.”

“But...”

“It’s one of my most vivid memories, and I would think it would one of yours as well.”

“Kyle, it’s the most painful of all.”

“All the more reason to face it. After all it was the night you totally destroyed your marriage and our family.”

“Please, Kyle, don’t...

“Remember, Mother? Remember how you thought Dad wouldn’t be home for another two hours and so we went to your bedroom, stripped naked and began screwing our brains out?

“Kyle, I’ve spent the last seven years trying to forget...”

“Forget? Why should you forget? Dad told me later how he got home early and heard us all the way from the front door, grunting and screaming. He told me he waited outside the bedroom door for several minutes before bursting in the find you on your back with your legs behind you head and me humping you for all I was worth while you were screaming “I’m cuming to you Kyle! Cum in me and I’ll have your child!”

Kyle looked to his mother whose head was again hung in utter humiliation.

“And I probably would have if Dad hadn’t burst in just then. I remember Dad sending me to my room with orders to pack a bag. But instead I peeked and saw him drag you by the hair into the living room where he pushed you over the back of the sofa, then took off his belt and whipped you like a dog.

A painful gasp escaped the mother’s mouth.

“Ah,” continued the son, “I see you remember it as well.”

He squeezed her shoulder making her look into his eyes. “He whipped you Mother, like a cur dog that’s been caught crapping on the carpet. I can remember your screams, begging for forgiveness while that belt just kept raining across that beautiful little ass of yours and how it turned beet red. And I think what I remember most was that from the time he first pushed you over the sofa you didn’t try to escape. You just laid there taking blow after blow, your buttocks shivering in pain, your screams loud and wailing, yet you never tried to get up or move away. You beseeched him to forgive you but you never once asked him to stop.”

“I ... I deserved it. I deserved it all,” she said quietly.

Yes, you did and boy did he give it to you. I remember at one point you passed out, so he slapped you in the face until you revived and then he started whipping you again. Finally you totally passed out and even slapping you couldn’t bring you around. Since you were draped across the sofa with that sweet round ass of yours so accessible I thought he would poke you full but instead he just snorted and I heard him mutter under his breath, ‘I’ll never touch this bitch whore ever again.’ I turned and ran into my room and began grabbing clothes out of the drawers. Dad came in and without a single word stuffed my clothes into a bag, grabbed me by the arm and we were out of there. The last time I saw you, you had come to and slid down onto the floor in the corner, sobbing, curled up like a beaten dog. That was my last image of my mother.”

“I’m sorry ... sorry you had to see that.”

“The funny part was that I was almost as mad at you as Dad. Here we had a good thing going for both of us and you spoiled it by letting us get caught.”