Copyright© 2004

A software technician from Digital
Had hardware extremely prodigical.
It's rumoured, I hear,
That when he was near
He made the ladies all flustered and fidgital.

Edited by Isaac Newton

The hours to which most people are slaves meant nothing to me because I was sixteen and on school vacation with nothing to do. I often went to bed at five in the morning and awakened at noon. That night, I had stayed up way past midnight to watch a movie and then to read, so I had just turned off my light and put my head onto my pillow when I heard the soft pad of mother's feet walking by my closed bedroom door. My head rose a fraction of a centimetre from the pillow to catch the faint creaks of the old floorboards as she went by.

What was she doing up at this time of night?

For eighteen months, mom and I had lived alone in this great big house. I knew she had been unhappy since dad left us, but we never spoke about it. Mom was trying to keep up a good face for me, of course, but I could feel how distracted and depressed she was. She went to work at the school every day, teaching English Literature in summer school, cleaned the house, made meals, and read her books. She read a lot. As I kept my strange hours that summer, mother would just shake her head and mumble something about how I better enjoy my final summer vacation. In other words, she usually just left me alone - which to any guy my age was just great!

For some reason, on this night I pushed back the covers and slipped out of bed to follow mother downstairs. In the back of my mind, I wondered if there was anything wrong - she never left her room after saying 'good night'. Another part of me was just nosey - any excuse not to sleep. In retrospect, I think it may have had more to do with destiny.

Stepping lightly down to the main level of the house, I found it dark and silent, just as I had left it after turning off the TV. Peeking into the rooms as I strode by, I eventually found mother standing with feet apart and arms folded upon her chest, facing the huge window in the living room.

"Mother?"

She did not move.

I realized at that moment that the street lamps outside were illuminating my parent enough to for me to see the outline of her nude body beneath the ankle length satin nightgown.

I shook my head to discourage myself from pondering such sights and moved closer to her, hoping to provoke a response. "Mom?"

Mother was a small, petite woman who constantly dieted, causing her to be rather frail as well. Small of frame, she had small hands and feet but a noticeable curve to her hips and a small waist. Her chest was not large but did top her shape nicely. When mother complained about getting fat, which she has never been, I noticed that her 'extra weight' went to her ass and hips, rounding them nicely at those times. Her face, though matured, still held an amount of cuteness that caused some guys to wonder about her true age.

Me? Well, I was a sixteen-year-old nerd. I was in Chess Club, I got honours in all my academic classes and I got teased by all the 'in crowd' at school. I was a head taller than mother and wide of shoulder, but thin as a rail and as uncoordinated as they come.

"Mom, you okay?"

She was not blinking; she was just staring out the front of the house, toward the street. Looking closely I saw that there were small wet tracks leading from her eyes down her cheeks; I realized they were tears. The fact that she was not responding had irritated and annoyed me at first; now it worried me.

Waving my hand before her face, I noticed that she did not blink, even in response to the movement.

Now I was really getting worried.

I placed my hand on her shoulder and, unable to keep the worry from my voice, said, "Mother I don't... ?"

Before I could finish, she suddenly sighed deeply, then turned and strode slowly and silently past me - all without even glancing at me.

I was soon left in the dark by myself, confused and a little scared.

The incident surprised me enough to make me set my alarm and meet mother downstairs before she left for school that very next morning.

"Jason! What are you doing up, honey?" Her face looked bright and awake - completely opposite of how I felt.

I dropped down in the chair across from where she normally drank her tea and ate two slices of toast while reading the paper.

"Mom, why were you walking around the house last night?"

Mother blinked three times (I counted) before she shook her head. "I slept great last night, honey. I never left my bed until the alarm went off this morning."

It was my turn to shake my head, though it did nothing to clear up my confusion.

"Perhaps you had a dream? What did you have before going to bed last night, honey?" She wore that familiar maternal, concerned face, but couldn't resist that little dig at my strange summer habits.

I shook my head again and stood up. "Maybe it was a dream, mom."

She nodded in agreement. "Don't you worry, Jason. I slept better than I have in months."

The way she said it caused me to pause before retreating from the breakfast table. "You did, mom?"

She nodded, sipping delicately at her steaming tea before placing it back on the table after finding it too hot. "Dr. Johnson gave me some experimental pills to try last week, and they seem to have finally kicked in."

"Sleeping pills, mom?"

Mother nodded, looking a little embarrassed. "Something like that."

I guessed they were some type of 'upper' to help her depression. I gave her a forced smile and went back to bed.

The incident was almost forgotten, until it happened again nearly three weeks later, half way through my summer vacation.

Coming home just after one in the morning, after seeing a movie with a buddy of mine, I found mother in the living room looking under the couch. She should not have been up at that hour. She was kneeling on the floor, facing away from me, her cheek on the carpet as she squinted beneath the couch. What she was wearing, or rather was not wearing, was startling. Mother wore only a large, old, white tee-shirt - nothing else. Kneeling as she was, facing away from me, put her round full bottom (and all that that surrounded it) facing me. I had not turned on the room lights, but the shadowed light from the street lamps through the large uncurtained window gave enough light for me to see hair between her legs and every sexy curve!

This would be a good time to mention that this was the first time in my life that I had seen such a sight, and yes, I was a virgin!

Standing there, starring open-mouthed at the sight two meters away from me, I could not help but remember the odd way mother had acted that late night a few weeks earlier.

Just as I thought that, mother turned her head to look over her shoulder. A stab of guilt about where my eyes had been looking struck me almost like a physical blow. She frowned and then carefully rose to her feet, facing me.

This obviously did not decrease my embarrassment, nor did it alter the way my eyes were being drawn to exposed parts of her body. You see, the tee shirt ended about her hip, and from where I was standing I could see the triangle of her sex!

Mother crossed her arms defensively over her chest and closed the gap between us. "Well, did you have fun?"

She sounded hurt, mad, and more than a little sad. I was confused. Mom had okayed the movie earlier that evening. She was not acting like she was mad about me seeing her naked from the waist down - in fact she did not even seem to care that she was exposed. What had I done wrong?

I simply nodded an answer; the nudity and the odd situation had already stolen my verbal skills.

That was when I noticed that mother had an odd, glazed look in her eyes as she stared right at me. Hadn't I seen that same look that odd night weeks before?

"Well, did you fuck her tonight?" Her voice held such venom that it shocked me.

What?! 'Fuck' who?

In my whole life, I never heard my mother use swear words, and now here she was using the big 'f-word' as though it were an everyday verb. She turned partly away from me, now facing the cold dark fireplace. With a forced calm to her voice, mother asked, "Does she make you happy, George?"

There was no way for me to answer. The situation was now both shocking and out of this fucking world. 'George', as you may have guessed, was my father. And no, before you think of it, I don't look anything like my dad; there was no way, even in the shadowed light, for mom to mistake us.

Sorrow now rose within my mother's words, "Please don't do this, George; don't ruin our family like this."

Her hands rose to hide her face, and her chest heaved with deep sadness. I wondered what the hell was wrong with her and was just about to step forwards and take her into my arms, when she continued, "Say something, damn you! I know I have been a rotten wife! I know you wanted more from me!"

Mother turned back to face me, dropping her hands from her face. Those glassy eyes were filled with tears, her cheeks streaked with the trails. "I am begging you not to do this, George! I will do anything you want! Please, just stay?"

My mouth opened to respond, to stop this Twilight Zone moment, but again mother did something to silence me. She slowly dropped down to her knees before me, her eyes locked with my own.

"I am on my knees for you, George. Remember how you told me every guy wants a woman that knows when to get on her knees? Well, I am... I will be that woman for you, my love, I promise you."

Mother's hands then crossed before her and grasped the bottom of her old white shirt. Faster than you can read this sentence, the tee was up and over her head. She was looking into my eyes as she dropped the shirt, already forgotten, beside her.

"Whatever you want to do with me, George, I will do it!"

I could not take my eyes off those small, slightly hanging breasts with very wide, dark brown nipples. I could see, as I stared at them, how they were starting to wrinkle and harden, the points thrusting boldly towards me. Mother raised her hand and gently stroked the outside of my denim crotch. My eyes rose back to hers and saw that she was smirking. "I still turn you on; don't I, my love?" She looked back down at the obvious bulge in my jeans. "You can do anything you want to me, George."

With that, mother slowly turned around to face away from me, still on her knees. Then she slowly bent over onto her hands, her face looking over her shoulder at me. Carefully, with her eyes locked onto mine, mother lowered her shoulders so that she was resting on her knees and elbows. Then she arched her back down and shoved her ass towards me! It had the effect of opening up that crevice so that even in the dim light I could see everything.

"Fuck me, George! Fuck this body however you want." She wiggled her round ass seductively towards me.

God help me, I thought I might just go mad from the image before me. Here was my mother, submissively exposing her entire genital area to me and using the roughest of vocabulary to invite me - or really my dad - to use her in the most demeaning way imaginable. I knew that I could do it and she would never know - in fact, she might even enjoy it!

I trembled like a leaf while mother stared at me. Mom smiled when she saw me approach, perhaps thinking her seduction of her ex-husband was succeeding. I reached down and placed my hands beneath her armpits and gently brought her back to a kneeling position. Her skin felt so warm, so inviting, and she must have felt how my hand shook with desire.

I knelt down, and mother turned her head, smiling seductively, submissively allowing me to position her as I wished. Her face approached my own, and I could feel her warm breath tickle the sweat-slick skin of my brow. In almost a whisper she gasped, "Tell me how you want me, George." Her eyes were pleading with me to take her, use her. Was mother trying to seduce dad away from the woman he eventually left us for - the secret affair that had gone on for nearly two years before dad finally left?

How secret had it really been? How long had mother known about that other woman?

Mom gently took my trembling hand and placed it between her legs. The hot wetness was obvious! She groaned anxiously with pleasure as she moved my fingers to tease her hot, slick, inner labia.

I yanked my hand from between her wet, hot thighs as if burned. With the other I desperately reached for her discarded tee-shirt. As I drew it up and over her head my mother's face took on an almost anguished sorrow. She realized that her seduction was failing.

Mother knelt there as I pulled her head through, then one arm, then the other. She offered no resistance but gave no help, as I tried to restore some semblance of propriety to the moment. Her eyes ran with silent tears, her pupils locked on my face, her lips moving as if in a silent plea.

I then carefully guided her to her feet, moving myself in parallel. I wanted to tell her it all would be okay in the morning, that I was her son and not her husband, that dad was gone - but no words would come from my mouth. I was not my father - I could never be so cruel to this dear woman.

She allowed me to walk her slowly up to her room. The bed covers were pulled back and only the bathroom light gave illumination. There, next to her pillow, was a thin satin teddy and a pair of lace stockings - all white. Had she planned on wearing these for her seduction this evening?

I laid her back onto her bed, covering her with the duvet and pushing the lingerie to the floor. All the while her tear-drenched eyes were watching me. Only when I made a move to leave did mother ask, "Is there no way I can convince you to stay, George?" A loud sob escaped her for the first time - the first audible proof of her despair.

I couldn't help myself. I stopped at the door and looked over my shoulder, remembering how my own mother looked as she tried to seduce me.

She continued, her tone more like begging now, "You told me if I had been more of a slut for you, things would have been different."

She was tearing my heart out.

"If you give me another chance, I will prove to you how much I love you."

The hardest thing I have ever done in my life was to close that door behind me - leaving only the loud wails of pain and anguish from the only family I had left.

You must understand that I was sixteen that night; that it was the first time I had ever seen a naked woman, let alone held her sex in my palm. "Why did it have to be mom", I asked silently again and again. Yet, I could not get the image of her out of my mind - the sight of her naked flesh, the sounds of her deliberately sexy voice, and especially the seductive, submissive look in her eye.

How could dad have left mother for any other woman? Or had she not acted this way before he had left and now regretted it in her dreams?

And dreams they had to be - she was in her dream world, a world where dad had not yet left us, where she still could try to seduce him into staying and forgetting about that tramp he was hooked up with. I was surprised, however, at how awake she seemed. How could a person be so active and still be asleep? Maybe her medication was the explanation. I determined to look tomorrow.

In the meantime, I rubbed my young hard prick raw that night, not being able to sleep for hours.

In the morning I went to the kitchen before mother left for work, simply because I wanted to see how she was. And what I found was a woman in a deeper layer of despair that I had ever seen - she looked and moved like a zombie. I longed to comfort her, but didn't know how. Had I forced her to relive my father's rejection of her all over again in her dreams?

She forced a single smile for me and then left for work.

I slipped back up to her room, finding an uncharacteristic mess; the bed was rumpled and unmade, the blinds were still closed, and clothing was strewn about the floor before her dresser. Stepping into her private bathroom I easily found the bottle of pills that had been prescribed by our family doctor. The name was unintelligible, with countless syllables. On the bottle, there were only the instructions to take the drug before bedtime and on a full stomach. Undeterred, I looked through the waste basket finding the small paper bag from the pharmacy and a folded white piece of paper inside - the detailed instructions - and the side effects: sensitive breasts, vomiting, dehydration, and headaches. Then I found it - 'a minor chance of active dreams and even sleepwalking'.

I dropped the paper back into the garbage and slipped back into my bed. My hand found my cock ready for another rubbing before I caught up on more sleep.

I watched mother intently all night, finding any excuse to be near her. She still appeared lethargic and very sad, but she tried to brighten up when she noticed me looking at her. Only after she kissed my cheek and went up to bed, promptly at ten o'clock, did I revert to my summer mode and mindlessly watch some sitcoms and a late movie.

It was nearly one o'clock in the morning when I finally heard mother's bedroom door open slowly and the soft pads of her feet moving along the hardwood floor. My heart began to pump quickly and I used the remote to turn off the television.

Seconds later she was walking into the room slowly, and I could feel her eyes upon me. Mother wore another satin nightgown; this one was pearl-coloured, knee-length, with slits up to both hips and loose spaghetti straps on either shoulder. Slowly and without taking her eyes off me, mother sat across from me in the couch parallel to my own. "You are home tonight George?"

The thick trace of venom in her tone startled me, and I guessed her to be barely containing her anger. Then mother turned her head away from me, as if too disgusted to look any more.

"What did I do wrong, George? At least tell me that?"

She had done nothing wrong and my mouth was nearly open to tell her that, before I stopped myself. Would the sound of my voice give away this charade - that I was not mother's ex-husband but her teenaged son?

Mother barked a short, harsh laugh that held little in the way of humour. "Stupid question isn't it: how often did I deny you sex for so many years?" Again mother's voice held a great amount of disgust, but this time it seemed to be aimed inwards.

Her eyes returned to me, and if looks could kill I would have been dead. "When did you start doing that slut, George? Was it about the time you stopped touching me, stopped trying?" Her anger was melting into sadness again, "I knew; did you know that? I could smell her on you, on your clothing and even on your breath. I thought she was a toy, someone or something to play with since I kept denying you the things you wanted."

The tears started at this point, but mother tried to ignore them, still staring at me with deep sorrow. "When I realized she wasn't going to disappear from our lives and that I was going to lose you, I tried to please you. I wanted to give the things you wanted a try. Why didn't you at least let me try, George?"

Her humiliation was complete. Mother was laying her soul on the line - to a man long gone, but still before her in her dreams. Had she had this conversation with dad before he left? I couldn't be sure, but I somehow doubted it.

Mother slipped to her knees upon the circular throw carpet, and I turned my head away, embarrassed for her. "Please, George? Just give me a chance. That's all I'm asking!" I turned back to her when I realized she was crawling awkwardly towards me on her knees, her hands fumbling with the thin straps at her shoulders. "I will do anything you want from now on; I will be the 'slut' you always told me you wanted me to be!"

The straps slipped down both shoulders and mother pushed the front of her light-coloured satin gown below the round white curve of her small breasts.

Then she was kneeling between my knees and her hands were fumbling with my cotton gym sweats and boxers. I knew I should say something to stop this charade, I should push her away and tell her that I was not dad, that he left her long ago and that this was all a dream. But mother already had a seductive twinkle in her eyes and a soft promising smile on her lips. I had seen neither from her during the daylight hours for a very long time. I couldn't destroy her happiness as I had done last night. She was doing this in her dreams and not even realizing that it was also happening in reality - but instead of it being with father, it was with me, her son.

I told myself to pull her hands away... stand up... anything... !

Mother pulled my partly erect penis from beneath my clothing and moved in with her mouth open. I stared with a mixture of shock and awe as I felt her warm, moist lips take me to the root and suck deeply while the talented tongue teased me.

My head fell back upon the couch with overwhelming pleasure. It was a feeling I had never felt in my whole life. A small part of me memorize the physical act mother was doing - the slow way she sucked up and down the length of my fully erect cock, the way one of her hands held it pointed away from my body while the other hand fondled my balls. The rest of me was given over to the pure ecstasy of the experience. She thought I was dad - mother was sucking her husbands cock in her dream - and it was incredible.

Oh, God!

One of my hands came up and the fingers slipped into her thick hair to feel her movements. My hips were already pumping upwards, her head accelerating to match my pace.

When my mother felt my hand on the back of her head, she disengaged just long enough to blurt out, "You can fuck my face anytime, my love!" She returned to her work with a passion that was infectious.

Dad was a moron!

Once again, while sleepwalking, she had used words I thought to be foreign to her. She had just told her dream man to 'fuck' her face anytime. It was incredible! My parent no longer existed for me, at least not as she had been only hours before. No, she was much more now - she was a woman!

I did not last as long as I wished; in fact I wanted this pleasure to last forever. A small part of me worried about my performance, but then I reminded myself that it was not me my mom was sucking, but dad. That calmed me considerably. This was the closest thing to guilt-free, worry-free sex that I could contemplate!

A loud groan escaped from between my clenched teeth just as my cock began to spurt. I could hear mother swallow loudly and frequently before she removed her lips from my dick and let me shoot into her open mouth. I watched, amazed and delighted at the sight that I could never have contemplated seeing in a million years. It was worth that little voice in my head telling me how wrong, how evil this was. Seeing my seed spill past mother's bottom lip to roll down to her chin was more than enough to silence any mental doubts.

I sat there panting, as mother finally lifted her face from my lap, her hand still holding my soft penis gently. With the middle finger of her spare hand she scooped up large drops of sperm and then licked them off with her red tongue. And all the while, her eyes were watching me watch her.

Finally she spoke, "I can be the slut you want me to be, George. I'm sorry that it took me so long to realize how to make you happy." Finding no other evidence of sperm upon her chin, mother dropped both hands to her lap and licked her lips. "I am your wife, and there is nothing I won't do for you." She forced a smile but I could feel her nervousness. I figured she was probably wondering if her single blow job would be enough to convince her husband that she had changed her ways.

Mother seemed to be waiting for a response from me. When she did not get one, she slowly backed up to couch she had come from and sat down upon it, her hands fixing the straps to her nightgown so that her breasts were no longer bare. "If you must be with that other woman, all I ask is that you come home to me every night." Mother seemed nervous and fearful again; worry was again overwhelming her good feelings. "I will not give you up without a fight - but if I must share you, I want to be the one you go to sleep with. Will you at least grant me that, George?"

I was terrified that if I said a word, mother's sleepwalking would end. How would she feel upon discovering that the taste of sperm on her tongue was mine and not dad's? Most probably, it would shadder her already delicate soul.

I could feel the anger at my (my dad's) silence rising up within her. It was almost a physical force, even from across the room. Mother suddenly stood and hissed in anger, "If you want to fuck me, George, I will be in bed!" She stomped off, disgusted at her husband.

What kind of pig allows himself to be so overwhelmed sexually as to take advantage of his unwitting mother? I felt I had to be the lowest form of life!

My dreams that night took the two nights of erotic events between mother and I and built upon them. The images were graphic and very erotic, and I awoke sweating and hard.

What had awakened me, though, was the distant, pathetic sounds of whimpering and sobs - mother! I bounced out of bed and adjusted myself so that my hard-on was not so apparent before rushing from my room to hers. I caught a glance at the clock; it was only five in the morning - she shouldn't have been awake yet.

Without thinking, I shoved her door open wide and rushed into her room.

Mother was lying on top of her sheets in the fetal position, crying into her hands. She lifted her head at my intrusion, quickly pulled a blanket over her exposed legs and mumbled, "Jason... what is it honey?"

Obviously she wasn't dreaming now. "Mom I heard you crying or something?"

Mother wiped at her tear-stained cheeks and responded, "I had a dream that bothered me."

Oh, God. She knew! She had somehow come to realize whose cock she had sucked only hours before!

I felt like such a worm.

My silence must have seemed confused to her because mother added, "It was about your father, honey."

The wave of self-loathing dissipated from within me, and I exhaled silently. I still knew of my transgression, but at least my mother had been spared the turmoil such knowledge would surely create. I stepped forward and sat upon the edge of the bed. Mother sat up and immediately wrapped her arms about me, her head on my shoulder.

"I am so sorry, honey. I wish I could just forget him." She sniffled pitifully.

My hands patted her back, and I whispered dutifully, "It's okay, mom."

Her chest heaves slowed and her sobs all but disappeared. "Guess you must think I'm a lost case or something, right Jason?" More sniffling. "I want you to know that I've been seeing someone."

My heart seemed to have stopped; who this man mother was seeing?

"It's someone Dr. Johnson recommended after he prescribed the pills I told you about. I have been going to him every week for the last while. I thought it was helping too, until these dreams started a few days ago."

My heart was again thumping... a little too fast this time. "Dreams, mom?"

She took a while to reply, "I am just a little lonely honey. It's just silly stuff."

I pushed it, "About you and dad, mom?"

Her back muscles tensed up under my open hands, "Yes... yes they are."

"And that's what you dreamt about tonight?"

Again tentatively, "Yes."

The silence reigned for a good long while before mother sat back, laying her head upon her pillow and staring up at me. An obviously forced soft smile appeared, "Thank you for caring, honey."

Instead of thinking about my mother's mental state and her struggle to deal with my father's abandonment, my teenaged mind was wondering what it would be like to be this woman's lover - to sit here and talk to her as an equal and not as her child. Would she let me fondle her? Kiss her? Perhaps we both could be naked?

After another lengthy silence mother added, "I'm better now, honey - really. You can go back to bed again."

"Okay mom." I stood without thinking and looked at my mothers shocked face.

What mother was looking at was my crotch. My thoughts about being naked with her and fondling her had had the usual effect on my hormone-charged body. Like a dummy I stared down at the embarrassing way my hard cock was thrusting away from my body. My thin cotton pyjama bottom did little to hide my appendage.

"Oh! My God!" I heard mother whisper.

I turned quickly away from mother, trying to hide my erection with my body, and slipped one hand down to try to hold it against my stomach. I shuffled out of the room and back to my own, my face hot with shame. It seemed strange how embarrassed I had become about mother seeing my erection, through my clothing no less, while I had watched her suck me off just hours before.

Evidently it had affected mom too. She made herself scarce the next day, coming home late from school and then going to the privacy of her room after ordering a pizza. But I knew what I had to do, what my body was demanding that I do, and so I simply waited in bed until the early hours of the next day, near two in the morning actually.