Copyright© 2001-2003

There was a young parson of Harwich,
Tried to grind his betrothed in a carriage.
She said, "No, you young goose,
Just try self-abuse.
And the other we'll try after marriage."

When I attempted to open my eyes the room spun so fast I had to close them again.

Trying to sit up caused a wave of nausea to threaten my existence and I had to lay back down.

Every inch of my body hurt, including my fingers and toe nails!

How could I drink so much last night?

Oh god, make the morning sun go away, it is burning my eyes through my eyelids!

Was that tribal drums pulsating through my head?

Oh god!

Reaching with one pain-filled hand, I reached over to the side of the bed... empty. Thank god! I remember propositioning some guy last night... his hands yanking my skirt and stockings off... !

Think... last night... think!

It was my birthday... my girlfriend, Jenny, making fun of my boring life... loud music... and dancing with so many guys... !

I quickly rolled over in the bed and squinted just a brief second to confirm... my room, thank god!

When was the last time I got so drunk? Sixteen... no fifteen when my sister, her friend and I drank for the first time. Did it really feel this bad back then?

I'm alone - ironic that I actually am thankful for that. I should be used to being alone... in bed... six years after the divorce.

Think... !

I remember drinks... all sizes and so many colours. At first they tasted horrid and burnt my throat... after the second hour it no longer bothered me and I drank even more.

Some guy suck his tongue down my throat and felt up my ass as we danced to music that was too loud to even distinguish individual words in the lyrics. And... I let him! So embarrasing... I remember pressing myself... grinding... into that faceless man's leg!

I tried to hear around the pounding in my head, in my ears, to see if someone was in the next room - the bathroom.

Nothing.

At least I think there was no one close by. Perhaps my fear of bringing a lost puppy home, in the form of a man, had not happened?

Then my best friend... yes, the same that poured all those drinks down my throat... pulling the guy off me... thank god!

Jenny and I danced... and even drunk we were good... guys were watching us... my friend was rubbing herself against me... kissing me... her tongue licking the sweat between my clevage... what?

Nothing until the back of the taxi... Jenny laughing... telling the driver to keep an eye on the back seat... her mouth finding mine again... her hand slipping up between my stocking covered thighs... under my skirt and into... oh god!

I remember grabbing her wrist with both my hands and shoving her in and out of me... how many fingers had she used?

I truly have no idea.

Her tongue in my mouth the whole time... in and out... the taxi drive lasting forever... me praying silently to orgasm, the first in nearly a year, the first by another hand in nearly eight years!

How could I have felt such rapture with my own girlfriend... who I had known for nearly twenty years? Believe me when I say such a thing has never happened before... never even dreamt of such a thing... ! Well, at least not on purpose.

Then I was stumbling through the grass to my home and the front door seemed to get further and further away. I must have fell... more than once... laughter behind me... and turning to see Jenny stumble from the back door to the front of the taxi... wearing nothing but her black bra and black heels... the leering driver's white teeth as he watched her slip in next to him.

Then they drove away... leaving me on the cold drew-wet grass... feeling so lonely... so horny.

I must not have orgasmed... could not have. A single orgasm has always eased the the pressure for hours... and drunk as I was, I would have woken up on the lawn rather than in my own bed!

Minutes... hours... how long did it take me to crawl to the front door... up the front of the door... my god... !

Joey!

Him holding me like a baby in his arms... my head on his shoulder... his strong long strides causing me to feel nauseas for the first time.

I was safe... home. In the arms of a man who I trusted impeccably to take care of me.

But the loneliness could not be solved by being home... the throbbing between my legs... the liquid feeling between my thighs dispelling my nausea.

Oh my god... I began to kiss Joey's neck.

Small at first... but quickly turning to strong long wet licks... sucking... his skin smooth but hard with muscle beneath.

I was whimpering into his neck, even as he carried me into my own room... so helpless... so horny... "fuck mommy"... !

The pain in my head seemed to suddenly double with the memory.

Did he... ? God damn... think... remember!

Setting me down on the bed so gently... softly... in total control... I loved him so much... Jenny called him my 'Nordic God' and he looked so good... !

The fingers of both my hands were locked behind his neck... not letting him pull away... his ice blue eyes looking into mine... "use me"... !

Then he relented... he must have, because he was too strong for me to pull down... my mouth opened and my tongue slipped out to seek his... but just before our lips touched he bent his head and slipped away.

Moaning in desire... rolling onto my hip and rubbing my thighs together... almost begging, "mommy needs you"!

A hard unrelenting hand grabbed one of my tiny ankles... my high heel gently pulled off... but he does not do the other... and I begin to cry... I had left my shoe in the taxi... while Jenny... !

The humiliation.

Strong hands gently rolling me onto my stomach... fingers fumbling with the button to my wool skirt... then the loud sound of the short zipper being undone echoing in my memory.

"Stop moving mom!" He meant my thighs, I was rubbing them together like a horny little grasshopper.

His hands rolling me back onto my back... me feeling like a little girl about to be fucked by her dream man... his eyes ignoring my own... he was embarrassed!

Strong and steady... my sexiest skirt is pulled past the width of my hips... down my legs. He is going to fuck me!

I felt such joy... a man... the only man in the world I could trust... the man I had known his entire life and one who has never failed me... my man! My 'Nordic God'!

Now he is staring at me... god I must have looked a mess... stockings wet from the grass outside, my hair in disarray... my plain white panties soaking!

I can't help squirming under that steel gaze... my body physically needing his power between my legs.

Again his hands are upon me... he gently lifts each leg to roll my soiled stockings off. His touch is magical... I ache for him.

When my sweater is pulled off... Joey being so tender, caring, as if I were a child... ironic that our positions have reversed this way... his eyes looking at my sexist bra, black lace and very sheer... my dark nipples hard and pointing for him.

Standing at the foot of the bed... my darling son gazes at me... looking at every inch of me... looking a very long time at my breasts... at my hard nipples!

How proud a mother I was at that moment.

How so very excited... my thighs again rubbing roughly together in anticipation... my sex actually feeling like a sea of my lust.

At no other time did I feel so desireable... so much like a woman... so horny!

Then... I remember it like it was only moments ago... my beautiful son turned and stalked out of my room... his hand hitting the light switch on the way out... and I lay in the darkness... stunned.

I cried myself to sleep... feeling humiliated and pitiful.

For hours I lay, pained in the abuse of alcohol and humiliated in my actions with my own child. And then there was my best friend, less innocent perhaps, but still extremely embarrassing and I can not imagine the next phone call with her.

And if there had been anyone we knew at that dance hall... ! Yet, that was unlikely, as we were at least ten years older than the average age. Two old women looking for a good time... well, Jenny seemed to have found it with the taxi driver. I imagine her morning may even be worse than my own - having to face her husband!

The sun had risen past my window pane and thus, allowed a reprieve which allowed me to open my eyes - abet, ever so slowly.

My room, just as I had left it yesterday - my birthday. Outside, a beautiful spring morning.

Yet it wasn't a very nice morning at all.

I felt like warm chunky shit and I had attempted the most disgusting of acts with my only child.

Is that not enough?

Well, add to that, humiliating myself in public and committing lesbian acts with my best friend.

I'm sure there is more - just that the alcoholic haze hid all other memories. Perhaps I should be thankful?

What was more humiliating; my unsuccessful attempt at seduction with my only child or that he had refused me?

My home was quiet when I finally found the resolve to go down the stairs to the kitchen. Joey must have gone out with friends - thank god.

The coffee might have brewed forever and the Tylenol's taken their own sweet time - but finally I sat at the breakfast table and drank the vile brew while staring at a spot on the tiled floor. All the while wishing that I could turn back the clock one day.

I was a miserable wrench.

It only hit me when I lay in my darkened bathroom, lit only with a candle, and soaking in my tub did I wonder about the night before.

Why did Joey not take what I had offered him?

Trying to look at it coldly; I am still an attractive woman, I was very passionate and even begging for him, and I was drunk. Even in my mental haze, I remember those ice blue eyes staring at my covered breasts - hungry for the dark points that lay beneath my sheer black lace bra.

I know he desires me - and not just in last nights look. There are the looks whenever I bent over, his eyes always drawn to my chest or ass, and of course my soiled panties I found in his room at least a year before. I tried to ignore it, passing it off to juvenile hormones.

Yet it did fuel a little of my own fantasies, as much as I tried to deny it, and thus what took alcohol to reveal my rawest desire. That my son found me pleasant enough to lust, was a boost to my ego and helped me pass through the time of my darkest loneliness.

Now, the next day, I wished that my 'Nordic God' had taken me the night before, used my body to satisfy his own desires - I certainly could have used it. It was a startling revelation, and makes his denial all the more painful.

Right then, laying in slowly decreasing agony my sex throbbed insistently. It wanted him still!

Joey did, finally, come home - late at night, as I lay beneath a quilt on the couch watching an old black and white movie.

It is what I do when I'm feeling blue.

The back door was unlocked, opened, and then relocked. A few minutes later, my tall blond son stood glowing from the television, staring at its contents.

Why did you deny me honey?

Without looking my way, "How are you feeling mom?"

I groaned for effect, "Miserable."

A little smirk, "You were pretty drunk."

"I was completely pickled."

A grunt that was supposed to be a laugh. A lengthy pause and then the question I know he very much wanted to ask, "How much do you remember about last night mom?"

"Only small patches of things." I was not looking at the movie any longer but at my tall beautiful son.

Finally the question, "Do you remember going to bed last night?"

"I think so... yes."

His head turned and in the dim room we shared a lengthy look and I knew that my silence was thunderous. I should be angry, apologetic, something - and we both knew it.

Joey moved to the foot of the couch and lifting both my feet, bundled within the quilt, he sat down with my legs from the calf down upon his hard strong thighs. One hand was casually draped over my knees and he starred at the movie while I starred at him.

I had so many questions but found no voice to ask them.

His denial of me the night before was the most painful of humiliations and now that I realized, or accepted, my lust for my own son I felt like a homeless wench looking for a empty garbage bin to sleep for the night.

He asked, without taking his eyes from the screen, "Would you like me to rub your feet?"

Would I! "Certainly honey."

Fumbling through the quilt, he found my legs and threw the covering up above my knees. And though I was wearing a huge tee-shirt and cotton panties, the quilt hid all. My small feet had small cotton socks covering them, to keep warm, but he quickly pulled each off.

I only watched him silently.

His eyes glued to the television he took one weary foot and began to slowly rub and squeeze. It was very amateurish but thrilling to feel his big hard hands upon me - trying to please me - and so it felt wonderful. "Hum... that feels great honey."

When he switched, he dropped the completed foot onto his lap and my heel hit what could only be a long rod of iron in his jeans. He felt it as well, because his hands paused on the other foot and I was aware of him holding his breath.

That lasted only a minute before he resumed rubbing my feet, attempting to ignore that which I considered majestic and very noticeable.

This was my son - the teenager that stole my soiled panties from the laundry... and I was not so innocent to imagine he needed them for anything less then to fuel his fantasies. He has looked on me often enough with hunger and desire - and last nights open gaze... a shiver ran through me at the memory.

My foot, still resting against his crotch, pulled back only a few centimetres so that the length of that hard rod was along the in-step of my foot. Again my 'Nordic God' froze and held his breath. I didn't, I began to rub my foot back and forth along that hardness - gauging the size, imagining the shape.

I pulled the other foot from his hand and slipped it down to the first. My naked feet moved back and forth, rubbing along both sides of his maleness.

I watched him the whole time, his eyes had closed and he seemed to have trouble breathing.

I don't care what society says, this was right - he was right for me. From my own loins I had produced the perfect man for me - one that I can trust as well as love. The single person in this world I can trust enough to give myself totally - and for this girl, that was no small feat.

Finally, with me still rubbing him, Joey opened his eyes and looked into my own. "Mom?"

Innocently, but I could not stop the small impish smile upon my lips, "Yes honey?"

With difficultly, "What are you doing?"

Without a pause, "Showing you how much I love you." Silly boy.

"It feels good mom."

I know, his reactions were obvious, and I was thrilled - he desired me. Last night was not my imagination, all these years of thinking him spying upon me, stealing my panties, all validated. He had denied me last night - I was a mess anyways - but it was time to atone for that mistake. "I would do anything to make you feel good honey."

His eyes widened at that comment and watched me intently as I yanked the quilt from my body and lifted my long tee-shirt to my navel. Even in this darkened room, the glowing television was enough to reveal my white cotton panties and his eyes were glued to that spot.

I can't believe how excited I was getting - never before had the heights of my pleasure risen without some help in the form of a finger, tongue, or that long forgotten touch, a cock. If there was more light in the room, I'm sure the white cotton between my legs would reveal its darkened dampness to my son's intent gaze.

When I said 'anything' I meant it - he could have told me to hump the carpet and I would have done it. His silence surprised me for only a brief moment but I reminded myself that my son was still a teenager, and sexual aggression from his own mother was something I am sure he has very little experience.

Taking one foot from him, I set it against his strong shoulder, I spread my thighs enough to slip my own hand along the cotton over my vagina. Even the feeling of my own hand, beneath the watchful eyes of my 'Nordic God', was a delight. I rubbed my covered cunt with long slow strokes, in time with my rubbing foot as I watched him watch me.

It was a magical moment - like a fantasy. A dream.

"Mom?"

"Yes honey?" I held my breath - here it comes - a command, his desires revealed, to pleasure him. It could be more kinky as this near-innocent divorced mother-of-one has ever thought of and I would do it - for him. But what I pray for, what I wanted most, was for him to be inside me! I cared not if it was in my mouth, my pussy or even in my virgin ass. I just needed to feel him move his cock in and out of my body - feel its boiling seed flooding my depths!

Two strong big hands grasped each slim ankle and gently lifted my feet from him. What did he want me to do for him? Oh god, it was a thrilling moment!

He set both feet flat onto the couch between us, my knees bent but spread as wide as I could manage so that I could continue to rub myself.

Joey then stood up effortlessly, standing there above me looking down with the same gaze as the night before. And like last night, it caused a fire to burn in my soul and my body began to ache for him!

Then my darling beautiful god turn and quickly strode from the room.

Humiliation does not seem to give justice to how I felt after that moment. Strike two.

How could he leave me - I certainly felt his pleasure throbbing beneath the soles of my feet. And then there was that look - and though I may be delusional, that look was nothing but raw pure lust.

We never saw each other, though I heard him about our home, for that day or the next. I went to work feeling lower than at any point since my divorce, though I had physically recovered from my birthday.

I growled at my secretary and so it quickly got around to leave me alone. Most of my co-workers thinking my foul mood was the effect of ageing another year.

The next day, Jenny called. I could hear her embarrassment even as she asked to go to lunch with me. I took a long deep breath and agreed - though what happened between us was embarrassing, it was minor compared to what I had done with my son... twice!

"I'm sorry about Saturday night?" She could barely look at me and a malicious part of me was thankful I was not the only one feeling miserable.

"You remembered?"

She nodded, her face bright red. Then she blurted out, as if to get it off her soul quickly, "It was all so thrilling... the crowd roaring... both of us looking so good... but I never planned... ?"

I reached across the table and took her hand gently, the touch surprising her.

Her eyes catching my own, and they held tears in them. "I don't want to hurt our friendship."

"You didn't." She saw my soft smile and it seemed to calm her greatly. I could not tell her that I had done much worse than she had, that night and the next day as well.

It was not verbalized, but we are both adults - we knew there had to be something there for what happened between us to transpire. Hell, I had attempted to seduce my son because in my heart I desired him.

My eyes began to well up with tears as well.

Her hand squeezed me, "Oh baby", she often called me 'baby', "I'm so sorry! I never meant to hurt you."

"Its OK Jenny." I pulled my hand back and used the cloth napkin to dry my eyes. If she only knew what a low class slut I was, why I was truly crying she may not be so sympathetic.

Looking around the busy restaurant, "Do you want to skip lunch and talk for a while?"

I nodded, my pain still showing on my face, as my best friend lead me out.

"All I did with him was give him a blow job."

I was shocked, but a little thankful that Jenny had not gone 'all the way' with the taxi driver. My hazy mind can not even conjure the drivers face or approximate age.

We both started to laugh hysterically.

Finally, "I lost a heel in the back of the cab."

She started to laugh again, "I forgot my panties!" I laughed along with her.

"What about... ?" Her husband of fifteen years.

Her laughing disintegrated, "He was sleeping when I got home... but I think he is suspicious that something isn't right."

We were sitting in a secluded grove in the park, holding hands and talking together like conspirators.

"I have not been so drunk since I was a kid."

"You were pretty wasted." Wasn't she? At least I had alcohol as an excuse... the first time at least.

The seconds turned to minutes and the awkwardness grew between us and I feared that what happened had indeed harmed our friendship.

Then Jenny leaned over and pressed her lips to my own. It wasn't a kiss so much as a tentative exploration of feelings. I simply sat still and stared at her in surprise.

She whispered, "Don't be angry with me baby." Her lips again touched my own, the top of a slim tongue pressing between to fondle the front of my teeth.

Never, not counting my birthday, had she acted so aggressive, so out of character. Yet, I knew what it was like to desire and not be reciprocated - to be humiliated in its denial. I too had attempted a second time.

I kissed her back.

She is my best friend after all! I could not turn her down and humiliate her how I had been.

And besides, if my son did not want me, and I had had very little luck with men since my divorce, why not accept the one other person that loved me and desired me? Did it really matter that that person was a woman? I found her attractive, and had the odd lustful dream about us in the past - it could work.

Our kisses were getting passionate - with mouths wide, tongues duelling and saliva running. I had not been kissed like this, again discounting my birthday, since the early years of my failed marriage. Her hands were squeezing both of my large round breasts - Jenny, like my son Joey, seemed to enjoy that part of me - possessively.

I allowed my hands to squeeze her thighs up to her hips. If she had been standing I would have felt her tiny round ass - always in contrast to my own wide load, and the part of her that I had always found her most attractive feature. Up to this moment, it had only been normal innocent female comparisons - yet everything seemed to change once we act upon our animal desires.