Our Tattered Lives

Melanie came home around noon and her presence was a balm for my hurting spirit. She hugged me tightly and caressed my hair and my face, not as the lover she was to me, but as a mother would with her sick child. She asked me if I had eaten anything in the last twenty four hours, and when I told her no, she prepared me a hearty breakfast that I ate ravenously.

She accompanied me to see my lawyer to settle some legal matters I considered necessary. After introductions and greetings, we talked about the things I wanted to settle; first point out was that when my father's testament was opened, I was not going to be there and I wanted him to represent me in the reading of the document; then I told him I wanted to sign a document in which it was to be established that I waived any rights I may have on my father's estate to my mother; they had worked and had won their assets, they were marital property and I did not think I was entitled to anything.

Secondly I said I wanted to ask them both to accompany me to the funeral home to give my father the last goodbye in private, that way if my mother was there, she would not know which of the two men her son was. Melanie moved her head slightly in disapproval but she did not say a word; at that moment again she wasn't my lover, she was a mother, and her sympathies were on my mother's side. Then I asked them if they would accompany me to the cemetery the day of burial, with which the two agreed.

The day before the burial, we went to the funeral home, found out we were alone; I went alone to give my father my last respects. Afterwards, I went home to mourn my father, alone. Next day, wearing mourning black, the three of us went to the cemetery;

Melanie was striking, her blond hair contrasting with the blackness of her elegant dress.

Sam, my lawyer and I were in black, and I had trimmed my beard so we looked almost alike. At a distance we were undistinguishable.

When we arrived near the burial ground we stood several yards aside. Around the grave there was a crowd, my father's colleagues and their wives, students, and a whole world of people who knew and loved him and had gone to give him their last respects. Apart from them, aloof, looking around, was my mother. She seemed lost and my heart went to her, but I couldn't go near. Melanie hissed to me to go to my mother's side, I couldn't; I thought at that moment if I went to her side with what I felt for her I was cuckolding and betraying my father.

In a moment her gaze was directed towards us and greeted us with a slight inclination of her head, as when greeting someone for commitment but not knowing who the person or persons are. When the funeral was over and my father's body lowered into the grave, we left without approaching to greet my mother; next day I went alone to the grave and mourned for my father and the years we had lost.

A few days later a returned to work, but my heart wasn't in it anymore; after my accident I wasn't inclined to descend under water again and on the deck my presence was not absolutely necessary, after a couple months I went to the company headquarters and tendered my resignation. A phase of my life was closed, what would open?

Money wasn't an issue; I had enough, so I decided to take a long holiday. At first I ate, slept and made love to Melanie, soon I was restless, I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life; did I?, yes I did.

Once again was Melanie who set the record straight in my head. One evening, after another memorable session of loving sex she told me,

"Pierce, my darling, tonight is the last time we make love, and I won't be coming back for a time".

"But why....? I was stunned.

"Because you must follow your destiny, and it is not with me; I care dearly for you, if not were.... Well, I could even fall in love with you, but you will only be happy at your mother's side"

"But...but..."

"Shussss....Now my dear, make love to me for the last time, but before, would you like to shower with me?" she asked. "I'm all hot and sweaty from today. Can you come and make me clean, and then come and make me cum. I want to make love to you all night, Pierce. Is that okay with you?"

She looked and felt cool and fresh, but if she wanted to shower again, who was I to say no? "That's more than okay." I said anxiously.

We went to the bathroom and I turned on the shower. She took off her dressing gown and dropped it on the floor, and then she pulled her panties down and stepped out of them. She turned to face me and displayed herself in all her glorious beauty; she knew how she looked and knew how much pleasure I took at the sight of her. I gazed in awe, I couldn't believe she was here for me, and me alone. Then I removed my briefs and we stood facing each other, naked, Melanie's fair beauty and my big..., well, it was not beauty.

She looked down at me as my cock filled and grew hard again, and then she took me in her hand, gently, wrapping her long slim fingers around me, not moving, just holding me.

"Come to mommy" she said.

"Sorry?"

She grinned. "Come with me, baby, tonight I'm mom again, lets role play, tonight all your wishes will be fulfilled" She closed her hand and squeezed me.

I put my arms around her waist and pushed her back into the shower; I released her and turned her around, took the soap and lathered my hands and the lather cloth and began to wash her back, taking my time, fascinated again by the smooth slippery feel of her perfect skin. Melanie leaned forward; resting her palms on the tiles, her head under the spray, regardless of her styled hair, then took a deep breath as I dug my fingers hard into her back muscles.

She purred like a kitten, "That's very nice, baby, give mommy a gooood massage"

I felt my cock give a lurch hearing those words again and continued to soap her back, trying to find any hard knots but founding none, I let my hands and finger caress her shoulders as I lathered her, I worked down her body, taking the round firm cheeks of her ass in my hands, knelt and worked my way down the back of her thighs to her knees and her calves. She lifted one foot and then the other so that I could soap them as well. Then I returned the same way up, stopping at her ass and spending more time there. All of it was unbelievably perfect, the shape, the texture, the size, the firmness.

Melanie moved her feet wider apart and she leaned forward, lowering her head more and pushing her ass back towards me and opening the crack between her buttocks. Water ran down her body like a waterfall from her head, along her back, and down the crack of her ass and running like a stream between her legs.

I took the soaped sponge in my hands and spread the soap suds in between her ass cheeks, then I run my fingers over her rear opening, lightly tracing the outside edge, then moving down on I traced my fingers along the inside of her thighs and on to her outer pussy lips.

She moaned again and moved her feet to widen her posture. I crouched behind her and touched her outer lips again, keeping my hands away from my intended target. Then I went back to her ass, touching the rim of her asshole with my tongue tip, wetting it with my saliva and then I gently and deliberately pushed my fingertip directly into her back hole.

Melanie jerked her hips and grunted "Unnh, Unnh, you dirty boy, you nasty boy"

I rubbed her opening with my fingertip, not pushing, not pressing, just teasing her and massaging her bloated inner rectal muscle. I felt her pushing her ass back onto my hand and moving to keep the pressure constant, I took my hand off then, and when she stopped backing I pressed again only, slightly harder, opening her passage a little.

She grunted softly again, letting her breath out.

I stood and turned her around, and then I began to soap her front. I had hardly touched her breasts this night, and I intended to make up for that omission now. I soaped them, massaged them, there was no sag at all, and they were actually larger than I had thought, curving out from her ribcage, a perfect parabola rising to her nipples, which sat on areolae and which she pushed upwards and out. Her nipples were long and pink.

Melanie's long white blond hair hung wet to her shoulders, plastered tight to her skull and cheeks the fashionable and coiffured hairdo gone into the shower drain.

*********

With Melanie we had been meeting as lovers, companions of misfortune and friends for almost two and a half years; once every ten or fifteen days for sex, and more often for conversation. As I said before, I met Melanie through a chain of somewhat unusual circumstances. She is an un-happily married woman, to a banker, in her early forties, with two children in college, elegant, very beautiful, with a body to kill for. She likes fucking, but she actually belongs to a good high society family, and her sexual escapades were caused by the almost total absence of sexual contact with her husband, the empty nest syndrome, her unfulfilled sexual desires and her passion for a young man, I was her subrogate, her loved one, all of it could only be met working part time, when she wanted, and anonymously with a secure and very select escort agency, who catered only to out-state or overseas high standing clients.

And I can say, without any shame, that Melanie was my teacher, she taught me all I know about the joy of sex, the joy of giving good sex, how to enjoy a woman's body and soul, and most important how to make a woman enjoy sex, and she made me a better person. She taught me the value of forgetfulness and forgiveness, especially to those we love, and above all things, she taught me to reconcile with my mother, to look for and try to win her love, not her mother's love a woman's love, and prove to her that I'm completely in love with her. Not with the fever of a hormonal teenager son, but with the passion of a man who is in love with a woman, no matter who she is.

*9*

*My Mother's story*

This is my mother's story, as she told it to me after our reconciliation. So I would be able to fill the gaps in her life story. She told me everything I did not and should know.

***********

When I met your father, I was just a newcomer to the big city from the distant western lands. He, he was a dream come true, the man which all women, from their earliest childhood, dream to get.

We met and fell in love, it was like a fairy tale, he was older than me, but it didn't matter to me, as I was madly in love with him and him with me. Our first time together was full of thunder and lightning, we were like ancient Olympic gods clashing, we were Zeus and Hera, Hephaestus and Aphrodite, Apollo and Artemis, Jupiter and Juno.

Then reality reared its ugly head in my parents' refusal to accept any part of my new life. They didn't accept my pregnancy, didn't accept my love for the man who was going to be my husband, they refused to accept my unborn son, because he had been conceived out of wedlock, Worse than anything else the three of us were thrown out of their home. We were cursed in their strict compliance with the laws of a god they said was all love and forgiveness.

Despite their predictions, our marriage was very happy in those early years, but unfortunately we could not have any more children. That was perhaps the biggest shadow of our marriage.

I did not talk to my parents again until you were eight years old; I wanted you to know your grandparents and for your grandparents to know you, since you could not meet your father's parents who had died years ago in a multiple car accident. Your father had no other family and I wanted my child to have some kind of family reference. Dale agreed with me but he let me be the one who handled the matter, only forced by circumstances would he speak with my parents again...

I was apprehensive. How would they receive me after so long an estrangement. What would happen in my first trip to my parent's after so many years was a mystery. How would my parents receive me? And you? Would they be willing to love their grandson? I was no longer the girl who had gone to study in the big city. Today I was a woman of sophistication; with different concerns and values than what they had taught me. Above all things I wondered: how were they? Had they aged well? How was their health?

When we arrived at the ranch they were both waiting on the porch. Our appearance must have been a surprise for them. From the car emerged a tall and slender woman, elegantly dressed in the latest fashion: hair in the latest style, makeup, manicure, pedicure, the works. I looked more like one of those fashion models in magazines or on TV that the pregnant girl that they had driven from her home several years ago. I do not know what they expected of their daughter, I'm sure it was not the vision of elegance and sophistication that appeared before them.

And you, my son, tall for your eight years, handsome, with dark hair, and dressed elegantly, wearing an affectionate smile, you went to your grandparents and greeted them as if you had known them all of a lifetime. Your words carried emotion when you approached my mother, kissed her on the cheek and asked, "How are you dear Grandma", while turning around to shake my father's hand with yours and asked, "And you, how are you Grandpa"

The polite attitude and gentle presence of their grandson seemed to melt some of their icy attitude toward us. None the less, the first few days were very uncomfortable, especially for me. Their arrogant attitude, their belief that they were so pure in their righteousness that they were beyond good and evil and that I was still a sinner made my stay with them very uncomfortable. So after a week with them in the ranch I left you, with whom they had bonded very well, to pass the summer and I returned home and to your father, who truth be told, never badmouthed my parents or told me "I told you this would happen". In that moment I loved him more if that was possible.

From then on, if you remember became customary for you to visit your grandparents during the holidays, almost always alone, I would put you on the plane and your grandparents would go to meet you at the bus airport. I was very glad the way you three bonded.

Your holiday visits to your grandparents continued until that terrible day when you left the house and me forever. After that afternoon in which I flirted shamelessly with you half-naked, and you reacted trying to caress my breast. When I responded by venting my sexual frustrations and cursing you, I lost you forever.

After the first eight or ten years of our marriage, Dale was working less hours and had less time for family life, he wanted more time to study the new developments and read the technical journals of his profession,. Oh, I know he still loved and worshiped me, and he truly loved our son; but it wasn't enough for me. I loved him just as I had the first day I laid my eyes on him at that dreadful autopsy room, but the years had diminished his interest in sex, so our love sessions were less and less frequent; in the meanwhile, I was in the prime of my life and I wanted to make love, or at least have sex every day, whatever.

Because of our social position and the academic position your father held, I had to be the perfect wife, I couldn't flirt even as a joke, I should act with prudence, and of course any extramarital affair was unthinkable if I wanted my marriage to survive. And I did want it to survive. But I was sexually frustrated, very frustrated, and I could not argue that Dale had not warned me before our marriage. He did warn me that this could happen. Perhaps this was what led to the subconscious and unintentional flirting with you, my own son, which led to the events that destroyed our family or at least destroyed me.

When the first summer after you ran away from home (and me), came and you didn't go to the ranch, your grandparents didn't contact me; but they did the following year and I went to the ranch to tell them what had happened. Their displeasure was evident, but this time they didn't blame me and we could at least talk civilly. Age had softened a bit their character and allowed us to begin smoothing the disparities of the past and start again to bond and understand ourselves.

From them I knew that you, from time to time, went to the ranch to spend some time with them when you were working at sea. But after your accident you never went back, and so you did not see yours grandparents alive again.

From that point on my life became a nightmare. First my only child had suffered an accident and didn't want to see me, my father died of a stroke and I had to go to the ranch to be with and help mother in her mourning, leaving Dale alone in Boston. When mother thought she could be alone, I returned to my husband's side.

A few months later I was notified my mother was hospitalized and had not much time left. She had no organic problem; she just had lost the will to live after the death of my father, her life partner. So again I went to Idaho and the ranch. Mother died and luckily this time Dale was accompanying me so I was not alone. After the funeral I left the ranch management in the hands of my parent's attorney and the ranch foreman.

Your father wasn't feeling well; he denied having any health problem, maybe so I would not worry being as it were recent the loss of my parents. But one morning he didn't wake up, and for the first time in my life I was utterly alone.

At the funeral among all participants, colleagues and their families, students, friends and acquaintances, the only person that mattered for me to be there, and I could not find, was my son. I tried to discover whether he was attending the funeral or not. I could not believe that you were not there even if you detested me and would not want to see me. I looked through the crowd as you were not by my side and could not find you; one of the many times I scanned the crowd, I saw at a distance, perhaps thirty yards, three people together but separate from the rest, two men and a beautiful blonde woman dressed in full black, the men, younger than her, looked like they could be her children, both very similar physically, with a difference; one had a lively expression, the other....

....When near other people his expression was not more substantive than the images projected on a screen. In its relaxed, natural state, his face lacked emotions of any kind. He seemed to have mastered the politician's smile to perfection, and he could turn it on-off as if he had a built-in electrical switch. He could feign sincere interest in the dullest of conversations, and project sympathy or joy, donning a mask like an actor from antiquity. At times, he seemed more an illusion than a man.

Your father passed away at sixty-seven bringing all of the pain he had warned me about so long before. Along with the pain was a sense of sadness, as I tried without success to remember your estranged son's features. Your father had been a vigorous man appearing much younger than he was but his heart had failed him. I had thought in my naiveté my youth would help return him his, as the fountain of youth of old; youth never returns but the twenty-five years we had together was a testament to our love. A love I know many never achieve.

One thought was in my mind day after day, over and over, time after time, again and again, it was you, my son's refusal to have any contact with me or let me have news of his life. I blamed myself for the kind of life my child had, and the problems he could have now.

When your father libido decreased until we almost completely ceased any sex contact, I had tightly reined in my sexuality. And I had begun to reconsider your adolescent son's feelings toward me, to see them in another way, to interpret what they in truth were, an Oedipus complex, you my son was in love with me, his mother and wanted her, your attitude trying to pet me, was the manifestation of love of a boy who was old enough yet for words to express such deep and prohibited thoughts.