Oedipus Conquest

Peter saw a change in his mother's facial expression. The genuine appreciativeness she showed him changed to feigned appreciation. She smiled.

"Thank you," she replied, taking the card.

Alex took note of the flowers his wife had placed on the table.

"Nice touch, kid."

His wife opened the envelope and looked at the card. The faintest sight of disappointment appeared in her eyes. She opened the card and money fell to the floor. It was two twenties and one ten. Alex quickly scooped it up and waved the bills in Peter's face.

"Flowers die. But money?" he puffered.

Alex tossed the money on the table next to the flowers. Next he gently took hold of Valerie's shoulders and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"We'll leave for dinner at 5," the father stated.

Valerie had been quiet, actually stunned, at the money/flower comparison. The look of disappointment was replaced by anticipation.

"We're going to La Nuit?" she hoped.

"Hon, we're Italian. We're going to Olive Garden. Who wants to eat that sissy French stuff anyway?"

Alex turned around and walked out of the kitchen.

I do, a crestfallen Valerie said to herself.

Peter was beside himself. He could not believe his father. Then he looked at the front of the birthday card his father gave his mother. He was greatly surprised.

"Mom, isn't that the same birthday card from last year?"

Valerie was a sentimentalist. She kept cards for memory sake. Apparently Alex found her stash and "recycled" the previous birthday card.

"Shhh, don't say anything to him," she admonished.

It was that night on the couch that Peter comprehended the following. His father was a complete idiot when it came to his wife. Peter loved his father, but hated what his dad was doing. He was ruining the marriage and it was just a matter of time before his mother strayed. He did not deserve the type of wife Valerie was. She was faithful, kind, witty, caring...and hotter than Hell. Peter had embraced two facts: (1) he found his mother sexually attractive, and (2) he wanted to fuck his mother. Make love to her. Eat her out. Everything. He was going to do it. The idea of incest turned him incredibly. He also wanted to provide the emotional and non-sexual physical attention she so craved and deserved. Lastly, since he believed his mother would eventually cheat, divorce would be the end result anyway, and there would be heartache for everyone. Peter, the business majoring college student, decided to put his father out of business as Valerie's husband by ending their marriage, sincerely and genuinely "rescue" her, and in due time take his place in her heart and in her bed!

One thing which worked in Peter's favor was Valerie's personality. His mother, even if she just suspected Alex was cheating, was not a 'stand by your man' type of woman. She would drop him like a bad habit. It didn't take long for the son to come up a way to create the incident which would cause his mother to file for divorce. This was thanks to a second thing which worked in his favor: he and his father were the same clothes size. Peter smiled to himself.

The next day he called his girlfriend, Amy. "Hey babe, aren't your folks going out this Saturday night." He also asked if she had any of her bright red lipstick. The answer for both questions was "yes," with a knowing chuckle.

That night Peter left his home, wearing a shirt for the first time, and went to Amy's. They fucked like alley cats, all the while he imagined it was his mom he was banging and getting blown by. Early Sunday morning he returned home, depositing the shirt deep into the bathroom hamper under clothing already within. He got into his bed, drifting off to sleep wearing a devious smile. Sunday Valerie did the laundry.

"You sonofabitch!" The sound of his mother cursing awoke Peter.

He jumped out of bed and ran into the hallway where his parents were standing. His mother held the lip-stick stained shirt, shaking it hysterically in Alex's face.

"What the fuck is this?" she screamed the question at her husband. He looked startled.

"It's my shirt, but I don't know how the lipstick got there."

"It's your shirt and there's lipstick on the collar but you don't know how it got there? Are you a fucking idiot or do you think I am?"

Peter displayed a shocked face. He was actually shocked—just a little. Being awakened by hearing his mom yelling and seeing her screaming at his father was slightly unnerving. In reality, he was grinning ear-to-ear inside.

"Honey, I would never cheat on you." His statement seemed sincere. His wife, though, just rolled her eyes and shoved the portion of the collar which had the red splotch.

"Then what the hell is this—barbeque sauce?!"

Peter had to suppress a chuckle. Then he stepped into the 'role.'

"Mom, Dad, what's going on?"

The furious brunette swung her head fast in Peter's direction, now showing him the 'evidence.'

"Look at this!" she commanded her son. "Look at this! Lipstick on your father's shirt collar!" Next she said in an extremely sarcastic tone, "And he doesn't know how it got there."

"I don't!" Alex countered.

The son's face became a mixture of surprise and disappointment. "Dad, how could you—cheat on Mom?" He had added "cheat on Mom" for good measure.

Valerie returned her enraged attention to her spouse, once again shaking the shirt at him. "You motherfucking prick!"

Peter had to bite his lip from the amusing irony. Motherfucking prick? Yes, my prick will be motherfucking in due time.

"Val—"Alex's try at verbal self-defense was cut off by his wired wife.

"Shut the fuck up, Alex!" Valerie was ready to unload big-time on her beleaguered spouse. "Overtime, your beer buddies—I have for years played second fiddle to these, not to mention forgetting my birthday and our anniversary or doing these on the cheap. But this?" She flashed the lipstick stain in his face again. "This? No fucking way! Pack your bags and get out of this house."

"But Valerie—"

"ALEX, PACK YOUR BAGS AND GET THE HELL OUT OF THIS HOUSE!!" Both males were overwhelmed at the volume and intensity of her statement. Even Peter stepped back.

Valerie threw the shirt to the floor, and glared at her defeated husband.

Alex didn't say anything, though he really did not know how this all happened. He quietly walked into the bedroom, opened the closet to get out his suitcases and began to pack.

Peter actually felt bad for his father. Then he glanced at his mother. She was in a summer dress, hands on waist, and legs slightly spread. The left one was straight while the right hip was thrusted out to the side. It was a pissed-off stance, but the college student couldn't help but admire the curve of the jutting hip, and the rising and falling of her massive chest as she angrily breathed. Peter felt his dick stirring and thought this would be his time to exit. He gave a shake of his head as if to show astonishment, and returned to his bedroom.

Twenty minutes later, Alex was carrying his two suitcases to the front door. He looked at his wife and son.

"I will be at The Doral."

"Who cares where you will be?!" Valerie inquired through clenched teeth.

Alex looked at Peter. The son gave an irate 'what the fuck did you?' look back, standing next to his mother like a bodyguard.

The loser husband opened the door, walked out to his car, put the luggage in the trunk, and drove off. Mother and son stood side-by-side for about a minute, until she lost it. Valerie looked dejectedly at Peter and started to cry uncontrollably.

"Oh, Peter," she sorrowfully commented, stepping in front of him and leaning into him. "He cheated on me! Your father cheated on me!"

He wrapped his arms around her, like a protective cocoon. She laid her head on his chest and wailed.

"I'm sorry, Mom" he soothingly replied.

"He cheated on me!" she repeated frequently during the substantial cry.

Peter felt like such a louse. He wasn't upset at having started to end his parents' marriage. He was upset with himself because he couldn't help but notice how nice and soft his mother's big breasts felt against him as he cradled her.

"There, there, Mom. Everything is going to be alright," he comforted, another devilish grin on his face, unbeknownst to her as her face was now in his chest.

There were many, many nights like this in the next couple of months where Valerie, in Peter's arms, sobbed uncontrollably. He comforted and cared for her. He doted on, spending all his non-school time with her. He eventually dumped Amy, telling Valerie she was becoming too possessive and that he'd rather spend his free time with her during this difficult period. The mother cried when he told her this; it was the first time she cried because of something good.

Peter became the perfect son. He helped out around the house, especially since Valerie had to go full-time at her job for weekly income. He didn't give her trouble. He acquiesced to her requests. He held her when she cried. He offered positive reassurance that everything was going to be ok. He bought her flowers and little gifts. He loved doing it all. She also loved it. She had been greatly hurt, especially emotionally, and her son was the perfect balm for her wounded heart. One night she called him her "knight in shining armor." This touched his heart. He enjoyed being there for her, and becoming the man in her life. He was falling deeper and deeper in love with his mother.

He still felt no remorse for causing his parents' impending divorce. This is business, he surmised. Personal business. He had successfully dispatched his father from his mother's life and was now positioning himself to take his place. First he would provide emotional first-aid. Then he would provide "physical" first-aid. He knew his mother had been sexually neglected, evidenced by her constant masturbation. In her current distress, he doubted her libido would be active. He—honestly—did not want to rush that. He was willing to wait when the time was right to begin seducing his mother. He had planned this from the start.

In the meantime, when she was at work and he was home he jerked off, fantasizing about Valerie. He remembered that afternoon on the deck, recalling her luscious body and her pornographic moans as she played with herself. He envisioned him tonguing her gash while she writhed in ecstasy, she kneeling before him and blowing him like a call girl, and her begging him to screw her like there was no tomorrow.

-- EIGHT MONTHS LATER--

Both Valerie and Peter were amazed at how fast the divorce judgment arrived. She sighed, because her marriage was officially over. He smiled, because now was the time to begin the seduction phase.

It was a Saturday night and the two were in what had become a usual situation: sitting together on the couch watching TV. They were curled up together. He had his arm around her, absentmindedly stroking her arm while she comfortably rested her head on his chest. He loved how they often found themselves like this at night. He relished how she nestled on him like a cat, the sweet sound and feel of her relaxed breathing reverberating off his chest.

"Mom," he said shortly after changing from stroking her arm to stroking her head.

"Hmm," she muttered, sounding like she was half in a daze and half asleep.

"Why don't we take a vacation?" Peter suggested.

Valerie turned her head so that she was looking at him. Her face looked a child's who just heard the ice cream truck bells.

She's so pretty when she's happy and smiling.

"Babe, that is a wonderful idea!" The nicknames "babe" and "honey" had just recently slipped into their dialogue and were frequently used to each other in the privacy of the house.

"Yeah. The idea hit me the other day when the judgment came in. You need a break—"

"WE need a break," she interrupted. "Peter, you have given up your life to care for me since this whole nightmare started. I love you—you're my son. But I will always love you, even more, for sacrificing your time to be with me now."

Her eyes, locked on his, began to tear up. To him, they looked doe-like. A drop began a slow descent from the eyelid down her face. With his thumb, he flicked the tear away.

"I love you too, Mom. I am glad I could be here for you. You have done so much for me. I just want to be 'there' for you. I always will."

Valerie started sniffling then caught herself. She wiped her face and eyes, propping herself up in his direction. She was smiling again.

"Where do you want to go?"

"I researched Anna Maria Island, in the Gulf of Mexico. We've never been there. We can get a bungalow. It'll be by the beach, we could—"

Valerie was bouncing up and down merrily and clapping her hands. "Oh, Petey! That is wonderful! Sorry to cut you short, but I love the idea. I could put in for vacation." Then she suddenly became dejected. "This is Spring Break. Wouldn't you want to go someplace with your buddies and chase co-eds."

He took her hand in his. "Mom, no I wouldn't. I would rather spend my Spring Break with you. Besides you're more beautiful than all the college co-eds combined."

The compliment startled her. She liked it. She hadn't heard a male compliment in eons. She put the flat of her other hand over her heart and looked appreciatively at him.

"Why thank you, honey."

He smiled. "You're welcome."

Two weeks later they were on Anna Maria Island, walking into their bungalow which, thanks to Peter and the $100 "grease" he gave the resort manager, was far away from the rest of the lodgings. Valerie bugged out when she saw the floral arrangement of one dozen long-stemmed blue roses in a vase by the bed. She spun around to her son.

"For me?"

"Who else?" he confidently answered.

She flung her arms around him and tightly embraced him. She kissed him—on the lips. It was quick, and unintended.

"Oh, Peter, I am sorry" she said in embarrassment.

It actually surprised him. It also delighted him. He played it off. "No worries, Mom."

She felt pardoned, and relieved. She went back to looking at the flowers.

"They're beautiful," she commended.

"So are you."

Valerie looked back at her son, again with those doe-like eyes.

"Thank you, baby."

After they unpacked and trekked around the resort, the two returned to the bungalow. They prepared for dinner. There were two bedrooms but only one bathroom. Peter let her take the first shower.

"Don't use up all the water, will ya?" he quipped.

She playfully slapped his arm. "Smart ass."

When Valerie finished her shower, she had to pass by his room to get to hers. Upon hearing the bathroom door open, Peter instinctively looked in that direction since he was next. He swallowed hard when he saw his mom walk by clothed only in a white terry cloth towel wrapped tightly around her smoking-hot body with her hair wet and wild-looking.

"Sorry," she said with a grin, apologizing for him to having to see her like that.

The son was literally speechless. He heard her bedroom door close. He recalled what her body looked like from that afternoon on the deck and copied it into his current vision of her opening up and dropping the towel to the floor. He was glad she was in her room and would be unable to see him stroll to the bathroom with the growing hard-on in his jeans.

Peter was the first to finish getting dressed, donned in a polo shirt and slacks.

"Ma, you're the typical woman—taking a year and a day to get ready."

From within the still-closed bedroom door came, "Do you want to walk into the restaurant with teeth missing?"

Peter laughed. Then he turned around when he heard her door click open. Once again, he was mesmerized by Valerie.

She stood in the doorway wearing a casual yet elegant yellow dress with spaghetti straps. The dress had a modest slit in the front and, most of all, proved the beauty was not wearing a bra. The top portion was also modest, yet alluring, allowing only a fraction of the top of her cleavage to show. Her stiletto hells, also yellow, brought Valerie up to her son's height.

"Wow! Mom, you are gorgeous."

Blushing, she replied "Why thank you, son."

After they locked the front door mother and son walked leisurely arm-in-arm to the resort restaurant.

The two dined on seafood, red-wine, flavored coffee, and chocolate cake. They conversed, laughed, and savored the moment and each other's company. When they were ready to leave, Peter got up first to gentlemanly pull out Valerie's chair. An elderly woman passing by noticed this.

"You are a lucky woman," she said to Valerie.

Totally taken back, the mother responded with a surprised, "Thank you! Why do you say that?"

"Your boyfriend here is very courteous. Not many men nowadays are like that. Cherish him." The old lady paused to smile, then continued. "He treasures you. I could see that when you two first walked in. You both make a lovely couple, and the love you have for one another is very obvious." She paused again, and then bid them "goodnight."

Peter and Valerie were both greatly taken back by the elderly lady's words. They just looked at each other. She covered his hand, which had been resting on the table, with hers. More silence followed, and then they left the restaurant.

He guided them near the beach to walk along its edge back to the bungalow. It was a picturesque moonlit night. They had left the restaurant holding hands. There was continued silence between them. It was a 'knowing' silence. Their minds were racing, and their hearts were rapidly beat. No one would have guessed they were mother and son.

Peter now had his arm around her waist and Valerie rested her head on his shoulders. She sighed. He felt proud. They stopped to gaze at the shore and the moon's reflection on the water. Then, at the same moment, they looked at each other. Her eyes were half-shut, looking dreamy. He could read in her eyes a mixture of natural love, unnatural love with a hint of lust, and a bit of apprehension. She saw in his eyes the same things except for the apprehension. In its place she saw confidence.

Valerie looked down, embarrassed. Peter put his hand under her chin and gently lifted it. He leaned his face into hers. She met it, and they kissed...on the lips. It was short and almost experimental. The pair of lips met again. This time it was slightly longer and less tentative. They parted, revealing increased breathing by both. The third kiss was drawn out, and no longer experimental; there was growing desire within it. Their arms went around each other. The embrace also grew intense.

The kiss became hotter. Wet lips slid over one another and the initial meeting of tongues between mother and son occurred. The hug now involved hands gliding over backs and sides and both rears getting hefty squeezes. This combo of intensive hugging and kissing caused a shiver in Valerie's loins, her nipples becoming stiff, as well as the beginning stiffness of Peter's crotch. It was when she first felt his growing erection brush her lower waist that she realized her panties had started becoming damp.

Halting the kiss, Peter advised, "Let's get back to the bungalow."

"Yeah," she agreed in a raspy tone. "Let's."

Their walk was somewhat hurried. Peter and Valerie entered the bungalow. He locked the door; she turned on the light. They peered at each other, with hungry eyes. His vision took in the two hard nipples poking through the dress, while hers was on the bulge in the pants. Her panties were drenching, while his erection leaked precum into his briefs. There was no sound except for their heavy breathing, which was asthmatic-like.

Then, as if a movie director yelled, "Action," mother and son lunged for each other. Their arms went around one another while their lips locked into a smoldering kiss. Their ravenous lips smacked together, one pair rolling against the other, with frequent pulling of the opposite's lower lip. Their tongues also came out to play, frantically dueling in their mouths.