Hard Times with Mom Ch. 13

Author's Note: I hate to do this--I would rather let the story speak for itself--but, I want to share a few comments, and hope I can do it without sounding like I'm making excuses or apologies for my choices.

First, I want to warn you that this is a long chapter. I originally planned to do this part of the story in three smaller chapters, but I decided not to 'drag' it out and instead conclude it all in one big shot.

Second, I wanted to let you know that there's a lot of plot and character stuff going on in the first half of this chapter. The longer this story went on, the more complicated things became. I grew surprisingly attached to these characters, and so I wanted to do their story justice. My hope is that if you've followed them this far, you will forgive my indulging in a bit more melodrama than might be proper for a jerk-off story. I did my best to bring it all home with plenty of raucous sex in the second half, but I'll leave it for you to judge if I was successful.

As always, I offer my humble thanks for taking the time to read my story, and especially for voting and sending your much appreciated feedback.

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My cock was hard. Even after days of nonstop sex with my mother, just thinking about being inside her warm, loving pussy got me hard again. Mom and I had one final game to play, and this time it would be for keeps.

We pulled into the new subdivision of pristine, ranch-style houses and Mom hunted for our street. She looked over at me, beaming with hopeful anticipation. She noticed the undisguised bulge in my pants and her eyes lit up.

"And I thought I was excited to see our new place," she joked. Her hand reached reflexively toward my cock, but she remembered herself and pulled back, gripping the steering wheel tight with both hands. "Here's our street."

Some of the houses were still under construction; others had 'For Sale' signs out front. Ours was at the end of the cul-de-sac and stood out for its expanse of bright green, freshly laid sod. Mom pulled into the driveway and cut the engine. We sat in silence and looked out at the physical reality of this new chapter of our lives. Mom squeezed my leg and got out of the car. I took a deep breath and followed her.

"It looks great," I said, lending as much conviction to my voice as I could.

"It does, doesn't it?" Mom enthused. "It'll be even better with some plants. Maybe a peony over here, flower beds along the side over there, and a rose bush or two out front by the mail box. It's going to be perfect."

She fiddled with the keys, trying to steel herself to take that next step forward. I came up behind her and gave her a hug.

"Any place you are, Mom, will always be perfect." I turned her around to face me. Her eyes were big and sparkled with wetness. "One last kiss?"

"Honey, I never said we couldn't kiss anymore." She gave me a motherly peck on the cheek, and another quick one on the lips.

"I meant one last movie-star kiss."

"Oh, no, sweetie, not out here where someone might see." She looked around with guilty apprehension.

"Mom, there's no one here but us." I leaned in and she tried to pull away. I drew her firmly against my chest and kissed her. She resisted for a moment, then gave herself over to me. Our lips pressed tight, our tongues found one another, and our bodies came together like they were a tailored fit. When I finally ended the kiss, Mom pulled me back to her for more.

Instead of letting her have her way, I bent down and scooped her up in my arms. Mom screamed in surprise and I carried her up the walkway to the front door of the new house. She giggled and kicked her feet like a school girl, allowing herself to get swept up in the excitement. I held her while she unlocked the door and pushed it open. I gave her one more kiss, then carried her over the threshold.

We were home.

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The next week was an awkward series of days. Mom started her new job, and I began looking for work myself. Our new place was great, but everything was strange and new. Mom had the master bedroom, and I had the smaller room next to hers. I'd lay in bed at night, the air filled with the scent of fresh paint, new carpet, and a fading hint of sawdust, and think about her.

I knew she was just on the other side of that wall. Was she naked? Was she touching her body, or maybe caressing a nipple? Were her legs spread wide, and was she masturbating thinking about me inside her? These were the thoughts that occupied my erotic fantasies.

My mom was the only one I thought about when I became hard and stroked my cock in the lonely darkness. Her voluptuous full breasts, the delicate swell of her belly, the sensual curve of her hip, and my memories of the wet, welcoming embrace of her pussy fueled my imagination, never failing to induce a wave of longing pleasure as I jacked out each nightly load of cum onto myself.

But, as I said, things were still awkward between us for some reason. Life was hectic while we sorted out all the details of our new house and got familiar with the local area. Mom and I went shopping for food, and all the little things we needed around the house. I could see how she forced herself to hold back from touching me, or even standing too close.

I was struggling, too. I knew what I wanted, to take our relationship to another level, but I didn't quite know how to make that happen. I wanted us to be together, emotionally and sexually, in a grown up way. I loved every second Mom and I spent fooling around with each other, but I didn't want it to be just naughty fun between us. While there was certainly a lot of love in what we had been doing, there was also a great deal of pure fantasy fulfillment, taboo thrill, and base animal lust. I was determined to make it something more.

If all I wanted was sex from my mother, I had little doubt I could manipulate her into it. All I had to do was pick the right time, go to her bedroom, and force my way past her affected objections. She wouldn't be able to stop herself from giving in to me at some point and letting me fuck her. But then would come the guilt and shame all over again. I had to figure out how to transform our relationship permanently, and to do it in a mature and caring way.

Mom was away at work and I found myself in her bedroom. I was well aware that I was giving in to my more childish tendencies, but I couldn't resist snooping. I didn't expect to find anything particularly out of the ordinary. The movers had yet to arrive with the stuff Mom had in storage, so all that would be here was whatever she had brought in her suitcase.

Her hamper was the first place I explored and was rewarded with a pair of recently worn panties. I stripped down to nothing and took them and sat on her bed naked. They had that familiar musty smell of dirty laundry I remembered from when I was a boy. Her distinctive fragrance was embedded in the crotch of the panties and it induced my cock to a pulsing hard-on.

I laid them out on the bed and opened her panty drawer. It was less than half-full. I pulled out her cream-colored satin pair, the ones she had on the first time she let me see her pussy. I laid them next to the soiled pair. Next I fished out the turquoise blue panties she was wearing the day I caught her masturbating alone in the motel room. I added them to my line-up. I spotted her lacy black panties and took those out next. She had these on the day we arrived at Aunt Linda's. She had me come on her pussy then she wore these panties over the mess for the rest of the day. I swear I could almost smell a remnant of my cum on them.

When I looked back I noticed something out of place at the bottom of the drawer. I reached in a pulled out a frayed notebook. It was a one-subject spiral notebook, the type a kid would use for school. It was in rough shape. The pages were tattered, it was ripped across the middle, but had been kept together by the curly wire. Someone had meticulously taped each page back together. I opened it up and saw that the first page was filled with writing. It was in my mother's hand, all the letters standing straight and neat.

It took me a second to sort it out, but I realized it was a story. It began:

   Meredith had always loved her son, but she yearned to express that love more profoundly. She was contemplating the unthinkable. She had decided to seduce her own son. She watched him now through the window as he mowed the lawn. Shirtless in the sun, his body was young, and vital. Meredith could see the strength in him, and it awakened a craving between her legs--an ache that only he could fill.    Her hand wandered over her own body, touching all the most sensitive places and ending up inside her panties. Meredith's fingers sought out the warm, moist center of her womanhood, the place from where the boy she was watching with lustful thoughts had come into this world. She was touching herself as she spied on her son and was nearing orgasm when she heard her husband pull into the garage and slam the car door. He ruined her private moment, just like he had ruined her whole life.

I couldn't believe it. There was page after page of the stuff. Mom had actually written all this. And it must have been years ago judging by the condition of the notebook. I continued reading imagining Mom as Meredith, and me obviously as the son. It was a barely disguised version of our lives, and incredibly hot. The further the story went the filthier it got, and the raunchier the language became. It was like I could see her opening up before my eyes as she explored her darkest fantasies on the page.

I guess at some point she must have been overtaken with shame and horror at the feelings she was having, and the desires she was actually committing to writing, and so tried to destroy the thing. I guess she rethought it and put it all back together and kept it all these years. Not only that, it was important enough to her that it was apparently the only personal thing, other than clothes, that she packed in her suitcase when she left the house.

I got a chill up my back when I read how the seduction started with the mother in the story purposely catching her son masturbating, then showing him it wasn't anything to be ashamed of by masturbated in front of him to prove it. I was jerking off like mad as I read, picking out the parallels to what really ended up happening between Mom and me.

I came twice before I reached the end, both times into my mother's dirty panties. But I was disappointed to find that it ended only about halfway through the story. The back half of the notebook was missing. Not only that, but the final pages were singed around the edges as if they had been near a fire. I touched the burnt edge of a page and it flaked away as ash and a revelation struck me that completely reshaped my personal reality.

The tape was new, not yellowed or dried out like you'd expect if it was from years ago. The burns were fairly fresh. All the ash would have been knocked away by now otherwise. It wasn't my mother that had ruined this notebook, it was too precious to her.

It was my father. He must have found it recently and read it. I could picture him tearing it apart in a drunken rage, and throwing it into the fireplace in an attempt to obliterate the scandalous words that mocked him with his own wife's sexual desire for their son. I could picture Mom screaming and fighting, and rescuing her secret journal from the flames.

That's why he went downhill so fast. That's why he left. He started drinking more, lost his job, lost his house. Lost his family. Mom was too ashamed to tell me the whole truth. But she wanted me to know.

I realized she left her notebook here in this particular drawer because she wanted me to find it. Whether deliberately, or as a subconscious impulse, she knew I would go into her panty drawer at some point and find this. This was her way of telling me the truth.

I put the notebook back where I had found it. I replaced her clean panties, and put the dirty ones back in the hamper. My mind was spinning as I tried to re-sort my understanding of what it all meant. I hated my father less for what he had done, but I couldn't find it in me to condemn my mother. She never set out to hurt anyone. Mom did what she did out of love. Love for me.

It was all the more frustrating for the fact that I didn't know how Mom wanted the story to end. How did she dream that her fantasy would play out? There would have been so many answers in those lost pages that could have guided me as I tried to figure out what to do next. It was left up to me to write the end of our story.

I returned to the hamper and retrieved the panties stained with my semen. I left them in a crumpled ball on the corner of her bed. This way she would know. She would understand.

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It was our first Saturday in the new house when the awkwardness between us began to diminish. I woke up late. Mom was out somewhere, so I made myself a bowl of cereal and sat at the kitchen table. As I ate, I wondered if Mom had humped the corner of this table yet. My mind was occupied with the mental image of my mother pressing her hairy mound against the hard edge of the table and bringing herself to orgasm, when she breezed in with a couple of bags.

"Look who's finally up!" she teased cheerily.

"You're in a good mood."

"I heard from the movers this morning, they'll be here with our things this afternoon." She bustled around the kitchen putting the shopping away. "I've been living out of a suitcase for so long, I can't wait to finally get all the rest of my clothes and shoes and things."

"I have a second interview at that construction company Monday," I said and slurped the last of the milk from my cereal bowl. "The guy said I'm pretty much guaranteed to get it."

"Oh, sweetie, are you sure that's really what you want to do? You're so smart, wouldn't you rather do something less...dangerous?"

"You mean less blue collar? Nah, I like the idea of working with my hands. The money's good, so I'll be able to save up for school next year."

"Please don't worry about that, honey. I'll make sure your father pays for your school in the divorce settlement."

"I'd rather pay my own way. I don't need his money, I can take care of things myself." This was one of the few parts of my plan I had worked out. I needed to stop being the child and become my own man. Until I could do that my mom would never be able to see me as anything other than her little boy. I saw the concern on her face, but her eyes shone with a glimmer of pride.

She pulled some glossy magazines out of the last bag on the counter and sat down at the table with me.

"I picked these up and thought you might want one." She put the magazines down in front of me. Playboy, Hustler, and something called Fetish Girls. "I figured you might want something to look at when you masturbate." She picked up the copy of Fetish Girls, the only one wrapped in plastic. "I'm going to use this one tonight when I play with myself, so you can have the other two for now." She winked and headed off toward her bedroom with her dirty magazine.

So this was her idea of normal?

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Things loosened up around the house after that. The movers came with all the stuff from the old house, and that went a long way toward making the place feel like it was ours. I got up the next morning and Mom was ironing while she watched TV. She was wearing nothing but panties and a bra. I ate my cereal on the sofa so I could watch her tits jiggle as she worked. She noticed my hard-on in my boxers and just smiled knowingly.

I got the construction job and started right away. The work was hard, but it felt good to do something physical. There were cuts, and bruises, and sore muscles, but at the end of the day I could look at the results of my work and see what I had accomplished. Little by little I was helping to build something.

I was crashed on the sofa one night watching TV when Mom came in to join me wearing a sheer nightie with nothing underneath. I could plainly see her wide, brown nipples and the expansive dark patch of hair between her legs. It was all I could do to keep from pulling my cock out and jerking off right in front of her as I stared at her body, but I held back. I knew she was testing me, as well as herself. Mom was playing her own game, but I kept reminding myself that I was after higher stakes.

A few nights later, as I was brushing my teeth before bed, she hurried in, pulled down her panties and peed without saying a word. She wasn't showing off about it, but she could have easily used the toilet in the master bath. Mom was apparently working out exactly where she wanted to set our new boundaries.

I came home from work one sunny afternoon to find Mom had gotten home early. She was out on the back patio sunbathing topless. My heart raced with desire for her as I gazed longingly at her perfect, oiled breasts glistening in the bright sun. Memories of our outdoor escapades with Aunt Linda came to mind, and again I had to fight down my urge to give in to temptation and go to her. I showered and changed, hoping to cool my passion, but when I came to the kitchen Mom was there pouring herself an iced tea, still topless and looking like the sexy goddess of all my dreams.

"Hey, you're home early," I said, trying to focus my attention on Mom's face and not her nearly naked body.

"The power in the building went out, so they sent us all home." She sipped her tea and I couldn't help but notice how the condensation from the cold glass dripped down onto my mom's naked breasts. "Your aunt got me hooked on lying out in the buff, and I figured since we don't have any neighbors yet I may as well take advantage of it. You should come out and tan those pale buns of yours," she taunted.

"Actually," I heard myself saying, "I'm going to look at a truck a guy at the site has for sale." I wanted to grab her and pull her down right there on the kitchen floor. I wanted to tug that little bikini aside and bury my cock in her. I wanted to fuck her until her eyes rolled back in her head and she came all over my ramming dick. I wanted to fill her cunt with my cum.

"Well, I guess since I'll be here all alone I won't need these." She turned, and as she walked away from me toward the patio she pulled her bikini bottoms down and let them drop to the floor. I took a good look at her big, gorgeous ass, then had to force myself to get out of there before I lost control.

But, my greatest challenge came the following night. I had just climbed into bed and was lying on top of the sheets rubbing my cock to get it hard when there was a soft knock at my door. Mom poked her head in.

"Oh, sorry, sweetie, were you jerking off?"

"Not quite."

She took that as an invitation, and flipped on the light and came into my room. She had a flimsy robe on, but it wasn't tied, so it hung open in the front. Her big tits were covered, but her pussy was on full view. I noticed she had the fetish magazine with her as she sat down on my bed, her eyes taking special note of my exposed erection.

"I'm done with this magazine, so I wanted to see if we could trade." She opened it and turned to a particular page. "This one made me come at least ten times." Mom showed it to me and I saw a full-page picture of a busty brunette tied up in an abandoned warehouse. She was against a wall with her hands bound and suspended over her head, and there was some kind of bar between her ankles that forced her legs open wide. Mom leaned over to give me a better look at the picture, and her robe fell off her shoulder, exposing one of her breasts.

"That's really hot," was all I could manage.