Copyright© 2004

A tidy young lady of Streator
Dearly loved to nibble a peter.
She always would say,
"I prefer it this way.
I think it is very much neater."

The last time I had seen mom we had a large and very loud fight. I said some nasty things that could never be taken back - and her responses were really not digested by me until years later.

Just after high school graduation mom married Gary - an upper management type of guy. Solid, boisterous, dependable and friendly.

I hated him.

He was nice enough to me - his wife's only child. In fact he paid for my university education - plus a healthy monthly allowance so I can enjoy myself as well.

Swell guy right?

Well, that swell guy had sent me all the way across the continent to get me out of my home. You see, mom and Gary were like teenagers at home - giggling and carrying on whenever they were together. I realized that I put a damper on things, hell I wanted them to cool off whenever I was near.

Before Gary, mom and I had been alone for nearly ten years - possibly the best years of my life. She was my best friend, the only person alive that I could depend upon. I think she would have said the same thing to me... before Gary I mean.

Mother changed after the marriage - she wore more revealing clothing, acted lewdly when they were both at home... she was just a totally different person than the parent that I adored. Mom also seemed to put our relationship on the back burner - Gary this... Gary that... what would Gary want to do... !

The last straw was the final week that I lived at home - when I caught them having sex. More than once!

There she was kneeling on the floor on her hands and knees wearing only her kitchen apron, Gary naked behind her - ramming himself in and out of my mother. She looked up, and just stared at me with a remote glassy eyed gaze before Gary slapped her ass loudly and she yelped before smiling and pressing the side of her face to the linoleum beneath her.

Only two days later - with mother acting like nothing had happened, as if I had not seen her acting so commonly with Gary on the god damned kitchen floor for fucks sake - I walked into the doorway of his study to see my mom kneeling between her husbands legs, sucking his cock without pause. Mom was topless, and her large breasts bounced with each of her aggressive movements. Neither saw me - at least until the end, when Gary gasped, grunted just before mom removed his penis from her lips and I watched in horror as he shot again and again upon her cheeks and chin, her tongue hanging out of her open mouth lewdly. When I blinked I saw her looking at me without emotion as her husband whipped his rapidly softening cock over the sperm covered flesh of her cheeks - smearing the mess as if he had been doing this for years. Well... at least since the marriage to be sure.

The final incident was when I returned to Gary's home late one night and immediately heard mother grunting from upstairs from their room. I ascended the stairs and saw that the master bedroom door was wide open and the sight that greeted me was something out of a porn movie - my attractive, but ageing mother, dressed in black stockings and heels getting her ass fucked by her husband Gary. With her legs spread wide and her knees pressed almost to her bouncing bare breasts she was grunting like she was really enjoying it while Gary spoke the most vile of things to my mother! She opened her eyes and looked past her husband's hip to see her son standing in the doorway to her room. This time Gary saw her eyes and turned his head to look as well, grasping in surprise to see me standing there as he fucked my mom up the ass. He immediately yanked himself out, which was a mistake from my perspective as I saw everything between mother's spread thighs - the gaping rectum, the wide black dildo in her vagina! He pulled the duvet up over himself and mom and tried to be casual by asking me how my day went. It would have been comical if not for the fact that it was my mother he was buggering! I simply turned and head to my room and started to pack.

Early next morning Gary had left early for work and mom immediately yanked open my bedroom door to confront me. She was furious - and I was angry as well as disgusted. How could she let anyone treat her that way?

Well, the short of it is - I stormed out of Gary's house with only a half-filled duffel bag filled with clothes. I told my mother that she was a slut and that I hated her and never wanted to see her ever again.

On the bus to my friends place across town, I kept hearing mother explain that Gary was a good man, that he took her and I in when no one else would. She also defended his libido - saying that it was nice that a man showed some interest in her, that my father barely touched her after she became pregnant.

Effectively - what I got out of the loud argument was that she cared for Gary but did not love him - that she did not enjoy everything that they did sexually - that she owed him - that she would do anything her husband wanted her too.

I stayed at my friends place nearly a month before flying to the other coast to start University. Yes, I was not so defiant that I did not accept my mother's husband's offer to clothe, educate and feed me.

The years passed, my anger slowed and transformed into acceptance.

I was able to go to university because mother knelt on the floor of some over-sized marble-and-aluminium-filled kitchen and grunted like an animal as she got fucked in whatever hole her husband felt like filling.

It gave me a different perspective on things - for one, the negative reaction to 'love' itself. I remembered how I used to enjoy cuddling with mom years before Gary, enjoying how her large soft covered breasts felt so good against me.

Was that love I was remembering... or lust.

How much of my earlier memories about mother and I were the growing interest of an early adolescent boy to the only woman close to him?

I can remember feeling so proud when mother and I went out together - how some guys would look at her but she would either ignore them or tell the more persistent ones that she was with me.

There is nothing wrong with that... was there?

When Gary fucked my mother in the ass was that love or lust? Lust of course. My mother, did she allow it out of lust or love? She claimed it was because of duty but I had seen her eyes on each of those three occasions and what I saw shocked me at the time. Mother may never admit it but I would say she was in the heat of passion each time. Yet I hoped it was love for me - enduring Gary's advances so I can succeed and advance toward adulthood.

Just about every girl I went out with at University ended up hating me. Hating how I demanded their submission, sexual and otherwise. If they spoke of love - I ended the relationship, distancing myself from their obvious confusion between lust and love. If they were hungry for our shared lust, I lost any interest in them, love being more important than love in my opinion.

What I realized after years of failed relationships was that I was looking for a woman like dear old mom - one that will accept her fate, will suck my cock when I tell her too - one that will moan with pleasure as I fucked her in the ass - one that wore the clothing that I demanded.

In University I did very well with my studies - ending six years with my Masters and nearly a dozen job offers. Now I worked at a prestigious job and life went on. I was successful and content.

Strangely enough though I never communicate with mother, rather, Gary and I talked on the phone. It was necessary, at least in the beginning, for financial reasons. Later we talked about more topics - spending about an hour a month chatting. The only topic that was taboo was mother - both of us did not need to be reminded of those barely hidden emotions on that topic. I even offered to pay him back for my six years of education - but he said he would take no money from me.

Then the telegram came telling me about Gary's death. Heart-attack it said.

Why did I go to the funeral you may wonder? So do I. Its not like I cared for Gary. Hell, I think mother and I would have done fine without him. Certainly I would not have been able to go to University and get my great job, but I am sure we would have been happy. Or perhaps I did it out of respect - he had mother, he had money, he had a life that I envied and desired.

I saw mother dressed in an understated black dress up in the front isle of the church as I sat in the very back. She looked thinner than I remember, older - but more elegant than last I seen her, her hair gone almost white. The service was long, with numerous people going up to the raised dais to tell how great a guy Gary was when he was alive. In their own point of view of course. When the service was over I tried to sneak out the large double doors in the back but an old man cornered me, "Are you Tom, Sara's boy?"

"Yes sir."

He smiled widely as he handed me a small white envelope. "I am sorry for your loss son, your father was a very fine man."

"Step father."

He did not seem to hear. "I hoped to catch you here - you were the final recipient on my list. Good day Tom." He turned and left, walking right out of the church.

No knowing what this was about - I opened the envelope and read the letter through. It was from Gary of course and was a personal letter to me, mostly things he could not talk to me about when he was alive. It seemed he was leaving nearly all of his wealth and property to his two adult children, from an earlier marriage. He justified this by saying that I was now in a position to care for my mother and hoped it would bring us back together as we had before he came along.

If I understood what it did not overtly state, is that mother was now destitute and needed to leave her home of some years, the very same I had walked out on her seven years before.

Then I felt it and looked up from the letter to stare into my mother's blue sad eyes. Her gaze physically touching me from across the crowded foyer.

It was too much too fast and I immediately turned and strode out of the church without a backward glance.

For the rest of that day, I sat in the hotel suite and read the letter again and again. Mother, it seemed, was deeply hurt by my abandoning of her - of our final harsh words. Gary wrote that a part of her seemed to have died that day - and he was forever after, jealous of how his wife felt about her only son, recognizing a bond that he could never have with her as I had. He also made it plain that there was nothing she would not do for me - more than he had ever asked her to do. It reminded me of my hurt-full dissertation of her seven years before and I wondered if Gary was suggesting something more sordid than caring for my middle-aged widow-mom?

The next day I drove the luxury rental car to Gary's and mom's home - to see at least a half-dozen cars out front and in the lane. I thought to keep driving, that these were only people come to pay their respects and would interfere with my confrontation with mother. But then I saw the front door open and a young man come out holding a wide screen television. Mother appeared at the door within seconds, arms crossed over her chest and appeared to be crying.

Parking the car I strode across the well manicured from lawn to the open door, mom having disappeared back into the house, and directly into the familiar house I had left years before.

There was several voices talking all at once, and not in the hushed tones of a wake, and from various directions as well. The same young man came back into the house behind me and frowned in my direction, "The stereo is mine champ." Then strode deeper into the house with his dirty shoes. I saw that the floor was already soiled, the perfection of the floor already marred numerous times today.

A older, but very beautiful, woman came into the foyer and stopped when she saw me. "Who are you?" She asked rudely.

"Tom."

She blinked, the corner of her lips turned up into almost a snarl as she recognized who I was and then she restarted to walk - right past me and out to a BMW car out front.

The young guy was back, holding two stereo components with cords dangling behind him. A girl, about the same age, was behind him with a small box filled with music Cd's. He saw me and said without pausing in his step, "Your mom is upstairs. Tell her this is how dad wanted it huh?"

I felt like hitting that cold emotionless look from his face - instead I strode into the house and up the stairs to the room where I had last seen mother getting her ass fucked. As I walked slowly down the long hallway, I could not help noticing that the solid wooden door was open just as it had been when I had witnessed mothers debauchery.

She was there of course - seated on the edge of the bare mattress and bed, much of the room already gutted by the vultures downstairs evidently, folding a small pile of her clothing into a suitcase. Her pale white cheeks were wet with her tears.

Almost a minute of watching passed before mother turned my way, seeing me standing probably in the exact spot I had stood when I last been in this room.

Then her eyes practically exploded in tears and she quickly turned away.

Eventually, when she realized I was still there moments later, mother asked through a raspy pained-filled voice, "What do you want Tom?"

I didn't say anything - fighting the urge to run out of there, back to my expensive condo and sports car.

She continued to fold away her clothing. "I suppose you read Gary's letter?"

My voice came, finally, but as a whisper, "Yes."

She didn't seem to hear me, "He wrote me as well." Her head turned and stared at me almost daringly, "I don't know exactly what he told you Tom - but if he suggested anything... improper... he was wrong to do so!"

"Are you nearly done Sara - I was going to break down the bed frame?" I turned my head to see a middle-aged couple standing behind me. I stepped further into the room and rudely slammed the door on them. When I turned back, mother was again folding clothing.

"What will you do now mother?"

She did not say anything until I asked again. She dropped the clothing onto her lap and glared at me, "What do you care?"

Her anger was more than justified - we went from a very close relationship to awkwardness when she married, to silence for nearly seven years after our fight. My right to ask anything of her had been voided long ago.

"I do care mother."

She didn't seem to hear. At least for another full minute, then she seemed to get angry. "How dare you come here now? After all this time! Did you think you could get what Gary had suggested in his letter?" She practically spat the last part in disgust and I realized my suspicions about his letter had to be a part of mother's turbulent emotions as well. Gary had probably given her letter along the same vein... possibly with more of a sordid direction than my own.