Chapter 5

Dad returned home and went to their room to change. I held my breath until I couldn’t any longer. When the door reopened, I cringed, expecting at the very least a tirade about forcing Mom into a horrible act. He strode into the kitchen and declared, “That smells good, Ed.” He sat where Janice had been, placed his tablet on the table, and began to read.

Mom stood at the hall entrance, staring at me like a lost fawn. I almost forgot to turn off the gas jets under the finished food. I frowned and looked at the floor. Mom entered the kitchen, each step hesitating before committing. Her wide open eyes never left me as she seated herself next to Dad and placed a hand on his lap.

“That’s nice, Dear.” He looked up from his tablet and gave her a smile.

“I-I love you, Ralph.” Mom spoke as haltingly as she had walked.

“You’re embarrassing the boy, Sue.” Dad gave me a shrug.

My only conscious thought, other than the thousands assaulting my self-worth, was, she lied.

We ate. Dad read. Mom stared at her plate of diminishing spaghetti, and I stared at mine. When we had finished eating, I pulled a carton of ice cream out of the freezer, and I fetched two bowls and two spoons. “I’m going to study.”

I escaped Mom’s dazed aura, but I couldn’t concentrate on homework. I ended up playing a game on the computer and going to bed. I had extra crust in my eyes when I woke the next morning. I stayed in bed and read my history book. The chapter contained a blurb about the original Pyrrhic victory.

“Ed, are you coming to breakfast?” Dad shouted.

“I’m still full from last night. I’ll have a mango before I leave for school.”

When I did leave, I packed quickly and walked swiftly to the front door.

“I put a mango in your lunch sack.” Mom shuffled up to me, holding out a paper bag. She still looked a little scared.

“I-I’m so so-” I began to break down.

“You’re going to be late.” Mom’s voice hardened. She turned away.

Six hours of sanctuary wasn’t enough to ease my guilt at the end of school, but I felt able to talk to her. Returning home quietly and carefully putting my things away, I changed into sturdy jeans and a full sleeve shirt. “Mom?” I exited my room.

“I’m in the living room.”

Duh. I’d sneaked past her, to the safety of my lair. I walked to the end of the hall and peered into the big room. I watched Mom scoot on the couch, away from me. Or was she making room? “I won’t blame Janice, Mom.” I began.

“No.” She agreed. “Yesterday was my fault.”

“Mom-” I disparaged. “What I did-”

She cut me off. “Was very wrong. Yes.” Mom’s face had a dark expression I’d never seen before. “Are you going to do it again?” Her eyes were burning.

“I dunno. I don’t want to, but Janice-”

“I thought you weren’t going to blame her.”

Mom’s constant interruptions were confusing me and making me a little mad.

“I’m not!” I blustered. “I was gonna say, ‘She’s lucky that she likes things like that.’”

Mom added, “And that’s why what happened was my fault.” I obviously didn’t understand, so she clarified. “You were having a critical moment, between your heightened urges and your good sense. I - I worried too much about being your mother instead of, um, doing what was best.” Now she sounded confused.

All I could fathom was, Mom wasn’t very mad at me. My guilt calmed a little, but tension in the room remained. Despite the stress, I felt my dick twitch in my thick pants. Before it could embarrass me, I headed to my room. “Thanks, Mom.”

“I promise, Eddie, I won’t react that way again.” Both of us had used great restraint from saying that I had raped her face.

Sleep eluded me that night. Although I was feeling less guilty, while I jerked off, I barely achieved an orgasm. I remembered her distress, while my prick rutted her outcries into anxious gurgles. It wasn’t slightly arousing. Sometime before one in the morning I got up to pee. There was light from under the door, and soft mewling sounded behind it. I listened, ear against wood.

“Chaz made me suck him before I knew his name.” Mom was getting off in there.

“Good for you.” I whispered too low for her to hear, and I crept back to my bed and slept okay. I almost felt normal the next day, Thursday. When I returned from school, Mom knocked and entered. I had finished changing into shorts and a t-shirt.

“What am I supposed to do about those?” She pointed at the tissues I had soaked with cum the night before. The tip of Mom’s tongue parted her lips slightly. I figured she was trying to tell me that our games had come to an end. It only made sense, but I had the strangest feeling that she was testing me. Did I dare provoke her?

“You have to eat them, Mom.” It was such a bizarre answer. I could claim I was joking, however cruelly considering what I’d done.

Mom made a strange sound in her throat, and a scowl appeared on her face. Her cheeks reddened. She pushed me aside and bent down reaching for the mess I’d made. Picking up the yellowed, rank smelling, tissues, she straightened and held them out like evidence at a murder scene. “Do you mean these?” Her scowl turned to disgust.

I chuckled, hoping she would get the joke. “Um, yeah.” I grinned, self-loathing churning in my gut.

“You don’t even care what I think.” Disgust unexpectedly turned piteous. Sorrow and disappointment made her eyes big.

Joke over, I took the slightly gooey tissues from my mother’s hand. Her hand went to her throat, and she gulped, eyes glued to the mess now in my hand.

Call me slow, but finally I realized that Mom had been staring at the tissues from the moment she came into the room. I had thought the red in her face was anger, but it had darkened as she stood transfixed by the cum soaked tissues.

Barely two feet separated us. My free hand raised up along her right arm. It reached around her right ear and cupped the back of her head. I tangled my fingers into her dark brown, soft hair. My right hand moved the nasty clump to her lips and pressed it to them.