Son of an emotional b***h

I heard the car pulled into the driveway and then the clip clop of shoes on the pavement.Damn! mother was home.She sat her brief case down to the front of the door and walked into the living room. Some people are just privileged to know their place.At eighteen,I had no girlfriend,no friends and no father.I lived with my single mom, divorced from my father since I was six years old. My father was also the owner of various businesses in the town, but there was a problem with father he was a flirt and a drug addict. My mom got married to my father when she was eighteen.They had issue in giving birth to children.So finally after ten years of marriage,my parents finally had me. One morning,while we were preparing for our various activities;like my mom and dad going for their various businesses and me preparing for school. The argument start while we were having our breakfast. Oh! my goodness....my dad is horny. My dad was not too good at talking to my mom with respect.He treated my mom like she was a shit.He started harassing my mom,in my presence.He started with her boobs, pressing it hard that my mom started screaming.Tears started rolling down my eyes,I tried defending my mom but my father was stronger than me.He then torn my mom's cloths,like he was possessed with a demon. Oh! my gush..... my mom was nude. I got turned on immediately, because I have never seen a woman or lady nude at that my tender age. He started started kissing my mom so hard like he wanted to pull her tongue from her throat. Mom was in tears and wept bitterily.I wished, I could defend my mom.He pushed me and I stumbled over the dinner chair.He started fingering my mom till she started bleeding and was losing consciousness and finally the demon left him.When he begin to see blood,he became scared and was he same person who rushed my mom to the hospital. Mom recovered from being unconscious,few weeks after.The doctor asked him,'What happened to your wife that she is bleeding so much?' He replied that,"That my mom was m**********g and she started bleeding till she became unconscious"He lied. My mom on her own part,does open up her personal matters to people, even when it is strangling her neck.My mom recovered, few weeks and returned back to her normal life.Funny enough my dad never apologized,he acted like nothing happened.After the incident he treated my mom like a queen,but that just lasted for two months,before he became possessed again. For six years my mom endured extremely, mental and physical and even financial abuse at the hand of my father.She was completely isolated,broken and defeated.It was not her life that was jeopardy but also my own life was involved.On several occasions my dad will beat me up for trying to defend my mom,hurt my emotions and make me like he was nothing.Mom was a master of masking the hell she was living in and created a double life.She acts like she has never experienced pains in the public and she was the saddest behind existence scene. It takes a lot of courage to face your fear especially when you are experiencing trauma on almost daily basis.We had to decide whether to leave and live or to stay and succumb to the consequences. We tried leaving, but was scared if my dad will end our life as a result of that single act.But we had to move from the house to save our lives. So one Sunday evening when my dad went to his regular bar,where he take in alcoholic drinks and become high with drugs.Mom and I ran away from home,with no possession just few clothes,food and my toy on top of her stroller that lasted for few days. Without a plan and uncertain where we would spend the night,I experienced what we called homelessness and hopelessness felt like.I felt profound defeat like the world has left me behind.So we lived in the street of the center City. One night when we went back to our apartment for more clothes, my dad attacked,she barely escaped without me and ran to the nearest police station and I was left with my heartless father.I went through more torture than he did, before we ran away from home. My dad claimed he was abused.So my mom was arrested and detained for few days, before she was released.Her greatest fear has come true,she never wanted me to stay with my dad, because she feels he will influence me with his negative attitude. They finally divorce, when it became unbearable for my mom.One thing in my life that I had to do is live a life without a father.He paid little money every month for the support of me and my mom,which wasn't enough to keep us surviving for a week.He paid when he was forced by the court. Some guys are just know their place.At 18,I had no girlfriend and no friends.It wasn't like I walked the street looking to hurt someone or was knocking off gas stations or muggling ladies secretly,I guess I was just a tiny sweet thorn in my mom's ass. My upbringing with my mom was unusually open and my erotic evolution broad-minded.I'm sure that many will say that the way I grew up was wrong; that my mom was wrong in her outlook,her view of life and her guidance of me as a child.I myself would say none of those things.I look back on a rich and varied education and development.Every aspect of my young life seemed to guide me in the direction of being a useful, thoughtful and feeling adult. Still,I was aware even at an early age that I was different from every other kids.Somehow I knew that it was something to be protected, perhaps even sheltered from the eyes of others.I have no idea why that should be,since nothing was ever said about it, I just knew. My father divorced my mom since I was nine years old.Most of us grow up thinking our mothers are nearly perfect;so it was with me.She was intelligent and beautiful. She loved the Opera and ballet.I came to love them too,and it seemed natural to be taken to perform with her.The lights,the people and the music enthralled me.I took piano let but they didn't seem to become part of me.On the other hand mom seemed to love the things I loved as well.But she was still hostile to me,because she thinks I remind her of her father who maltreated her. I sensed that she really missed my dad, but she had to divorce him because of how he maltreated her.She was smart and willing to do whatever to protect her business.I'm sure you have known the sort of person who succeed in the world.That was my mom.Always immaculately and stylishly dressed,she went off to work and came up to do work at work at home.She had little time for me,how much more herself.Everything about her was feminine,the perfume,the switching sound of her nylon suit as she walked or crossed her legs,the lovely drape of the white silk blouse. She dated occasionally but none of them ever really caught on a regular thing.Perhaps she never really got over her first love,my father.I don't think I stood in the way of her romance,at least I hope not.But as it turned out,she never re- married.On the other hand she had many friends and had an active social life, mostly centered around the arts. In spite of the divorce of my father,we had,I think I speak for both of us,a bit of happy life.We two. I stopped just inside the front door and looked around the silent great room and the memories of childhood flooded over me. Here after Dad's funeral I had heard all that advice starting with "you'll have to be the man around here now, Charley. I'm sure you can handle it! You're a big boy now! Watch after your mother." All those sad faces of well-intentioned relatives. And then they were gone. And then it was just the two of us. I wandered aimlessly around the house at first, touching long remembered furniture, small sculptures, picture frames, then started a cup of coffee, I found myself in her bedroom and tears came to my eyes for a few moments as the memories flowed over me, clutching at my gut. All these things to be disposed of. I slid drawers open at random, then closed them. The familiar scent of long remembered perfumes found me. I held up a brassiere and recalled how her breasts had looked in these pretty things. Her breasts were rather large, not big and floppy, just full and firm. The bra looked like a second skin holding their soft treasures, and even constrained by the material, they would sway slightly when she moved. At age six, I had only just noticed how attractive they looked when her blouse gaped open and I glanced down to see the cleavage and the lovely swell captured under nylon cups. I was attracted and curious, but it wasn't quite s****l, just the first stirrings of s*x raising its head, perhaps. They looked warm and the fabric clung as if it was slightly damp. She had a beauty mark on her left breast just above the lace trim. I dropped the bra back in the drawer and started to turn away. Then I recalled that there had been a diary. I rummaged a little. Nothing. I re-opened the deep, fragrant panty drawer and slipped my hands down through the lace and nylon. At the bottom, my fingers found a thick volume, then another. I didn't recall there being two. A little further and my fingers started a vibrating dildo running. I pulled it out and switched it off. The fact the batteries were still live amused me. Even at age 67, mom had retained a healthy sexuality. As I returned the dildo to its proper place, I found yet another diary buried beneath the heaps of panties. I thumbed through the first book which held many relatively short entries interspersed with longer, more detailed personal entries back over the years. As I read a few passages about my father and mother's courting days, I felt as if I were prying, and closed the book. The second volume began shortly after the funeral and I was more comfortable reading it. Brief notes about finding the job, feelings expressed loneliness. There were comments about me. The fun we had at an amusement park. I won second in a tennis tournament at camp, growing up fast. I smiled at the prideful comments of a mother. Then I stopped short. "Maybe we have to stop baths together ... soon ... But not yet." A cryptic comment full of electricity. I would have been eleven, I noticed by the date on the entry. I lay back on the bed and thought about it. I heard the car pulled into the driveway and the clip clop of shoes on pavement.Damn mother was home.She sat her brief case down next to the front door and walked into the living room. Mother owned several businesses around the town.None were big,but when put together they make us a good living. My father since I was six years old..Since then I was her personal whipping boy even though I had attain the age of eighteen. She strugged out the pin from her suit coat.Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun.Her face was beautiful and her eyes were like two gray steel marbles.She was sexually attractive,but this way she was hard made her face crone. She picked up her brief case and retired to her office.I kept studying.I knew I had to get good grades so I could get the hell out of that house.I would graduate high school in three more months.I couldn't wait. Mother had never let me date,so I was a complete stranger to the world of relationship.I knew nothing about girls.Occassionally I m*********d, but I had to be careful.If mom found out,there will be hell to pay.Of late when she was scolding me for some minor offense,I had been getting a strange urge to kick her ass. She had been giving me absolute hell for the last two weeks.I heard her shrill voice,"Francis Brown" get your ass here! I practically sprinted to her room.What's wrong mom? "What is wrong?I will tell you what is wrong.You didn't dust under my bed.Are you trying to make me sick?she slapped my face. One of the duties I became accustomed to performing was to scratch my mother's back. Usually in the evening, she would summon me and absentmindedly tell me her back itched and would I scratch it for her. She would continue reading or doing some homework while my fingers roamed over her back, gently scratching and rubbing. I knew that she got pleasure from it from the occasional moans she would produce between directions of higher, lower, harder, more, etc. Usually it ended with her thanking me and hugging me or tickling me or scratching my back. One night, she wasn't satisfied with my scratching through her blouse. "Here, sweetie, put your hand down my back." She unbuttoned her blouse a little to allow me room and I slid my hand down the smooth warm surface of her back and began dutifully scratching. She unbuttoned another button, and my eyes flew to the deep secret valley between her breasts. The white band of her brassiere was at the end of a canyon of soft feminine flesh. I could see the taut cups surrounding the beautiful breasts and had an unusual sensation of pleasure. At the same time, my fingers came to the barrier of her bra strap in the back, another of those mysteries that women have for young boys. I know now that I was fondling it each time I came to it. At that time, I just knew that I liked the intimacy that touching her underwear under her blouse provided. She continued what she was doing, occasionally giving me a word of encouragement, or sighing a little moan of pleasure. It was all very pleasant, really, and I became quite enamored of her brassieres and came to know them by feel as well as sight. So began my fascination with her pretty underwear. When I was alone in the house I could not resist going to her room and looking through her drawers. I would hold them up and imagine her wearing them, and rub the silky ones against my face. As time wore on I also rubbed my c**k in her panties and stockings. At least one time I had taken a lot of them and thrown them on the bed, took off my clothes and lain in them. It was sensational. "Well, it's been three years since Daddy died," she said rather suddenly. "Auntie Mame says it's time I started seeing other men. I hope you won't have a problem with this, Charley. I have sort of a date with a man, this Friday. OK?" I had got used to the idea from hearing Auntie Marie talk about it for months, but still, it was a funny feeling when I realized that she was actually going to start dating. I tried to think it was nothing, but it wasn't that easy. The night came and I endured saying hello to him and watching as they drove away. The house seemed overwhelmingly quiet as I ate the pizza and then turned on the TV to watch a movie. When it was over I put on pajamas and settled on my bed to read a book. But something troubled me. Not ready for sleep, too distracted for reading, I wandered aimlessly around the house and ended up in my mother's room. The light was on by her dressing table and a pile of underwear formed a frothy heap on the table where she had changed her clothes. The dark pantyhose were topped with a pair of pale pink panties thrown carelessly in a little ring on top of the stockings. I sat down and stared at the sensual display. Slowly, I ran my fingers through the incredibly delicate and silky things. Her bra lay there too, looking for all the world as if her breasts were still in the plain silken cups. I touched carefully so as not to disturb them, imagining that the cups were still full and my hands were fondling real flesh under the silk. I put her panties close to my nose and inhaled the scent of her along with perfume or bath soap whatever it was and examined the nylon garment. I read the tag, Vanity Fair, size 7. A dusky pink color, quite plain, with elastic running under a sewn hem at the waist. A cotton panel inside between the legs was covered by the outer panel of nylon; I imagined what that must feel like over the imagined soft folds of her p***y. The legs were circled by an expensive looking elastic with a row of decorative stiches. They were not brand new, and not at all old looking. The crotch showed a crease down the center as it it had been pressed between her p***y lips and bore the faintest evidence of having been worn today. A fine line of white had dried along the crease. I was interested and smelled her on the crease but it was just another of those mysteries about women to me. My c**k jutted out of the fly of the pajamas and I draped the stockings and panties over it. I became even harder, even more excited. The nylon caressed the head and made it seem more sensitive. I tasted one of her lipsticks, imagining what a real kiss would be like. My hand began moving in the pile of silk, rubbing up and down the rigid flesh of my c**k. Every nerve ending in my body trembled, sitting there tensely thrusting into her panties. It felt delicious. The thrills continued and I stroked a little faster. The length of stocking leg slipped from my grip and overflowed down my leg as I f****d into the soft sensual undies. My body tensed and strained against the v****a of my hand in the panties. My stroking arm tensed and I felt my toes pointing deep against the back of the dressing table. And then it happened. I couldn't hold back. I couldn't pull the pretty things away, I shot my c*m into them and the wet spot spread and spread as I stroked to completion. I actually thought that I had urinated since it was the first time I had jacked myself off. I looked at the pretty underwear draped over my hand. Pretty and feminine, but now fouled with this strange smelling sticky stuff from my p***s. It was a disaster. I was embarrassed, baffled, scared, all in one overwhelming emotion. I searched all the playground comments I had pretended to be knowledgeable about. So this was what they were talking about! Well it felt good for a moment, but I didn't know what trouble it would lead to. The immensity of the problem settled over me. I couldn't leave the soaked panties where she left them. What to do. No time wash. I was caught. I took them into the bathroom and started to drop them into the hamper, then stopped. No way would she be fooled by me putting them here. In the end I decided to put them back where she had left them and hope she didn't' notice the c*m splattered on both pantyhose and her panties. I hoped they would dry by the time she picked them up. Look, I'm sweating." She pulled the blouse away from her breasts and blew on the perspiration between opulent mounds. Her skin glowed under the red lights and the valley of her breasts was dark and secret. I nodded, my eyes never leaving the slopes of her lovely breasts. There was some sort of magnetic forces between us. I could smell her perfume. Almost sense the warmth of her body. I could imagine the scent wafting up from between her breasts like a deep fragrant blossom. My view down her blouse front was of luscious soft melons and a hint of very feminine brassiere holding them up for my pleasure. It made words catch in my throat and my breath come rapidly in jagged breaths. I could feel my chest heaving with excitement. The air was heavy with our body warmth and some kind of wildly delicious sensuality that seemed to hang around us. I felt that all the air I was breathing had first been warmed between her breasts. I was very worried as I crawled into my own bed. But I was so relaxed by this time that I fell asleep. I was wakened by the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. I lay there quite awhile, but she didn't come in, and so I got up and went to the window. The night was brightly lighted by a full moon and the car was dark and silent. I watched. I waited. I imagined what was happening in that car. I watched from the darkened room for awhile longer and finally, he got out of the car and came around to open the other door. They came up the stairs and I heard the front door open. The door closed quietly. I could hear whispered conversation. I held my breath to hear better. Finally, I crept out of bed and tiptoed down the hall, then lay on my stomach to creep closer for a look. There were no lights on, just the light streaming in from the light outdoors. They kissed and I watched as the stranger's hand slipped lower, cupping my mom's bottom. He moved it across the expanse of her bottom, slowly, caressingly. Her hand found his and slowly pulled it a little higher on her hip. He tried to move it again. After a time she moved his hand againa. My heart was beating wildly. Jealousy? I didn't know what it was. Anger? "No, Tim, I have to get up early in the morning. And besides, we'll wake him up." "But Ellen. Please?" he begged. His hand was pulling up her skirt in the back and then her panties were bright in the dim light. His hand fondled her bottom, separated only by the nylon of her panties. I felt something pop inside me.I drew back my fist and hit on the jaw.she collapsed to the bed.I knew I had really f****d up.There was no recovery from this situation.I picked her up and dragged her to the bed.I went insane for a while.I striped her nude.I unwrapped her hair from the right bun and let it fall over her shoulders. I took two pair of panty hose and tied her arms to the bed post."What the hell do you think you're doing?"she screamed. I've had enough of your antagonistic,insane treatment.I'm in charge now and you're going to do what I tell you to do. She turned angrily."I'm gonna kill you for this you son of a b***h!" "Yes,I am a son of a bitch.Now the b***h is going to pay.I can't decide what to do to you first,"I said with an evil glint in my eyes. Frankly mother,I don't care.I can't take it anymore of your shits.I may spend the rest of my life in jail,but tonight you're going to pay!" I said angrily. I reached down and pinched her tits.She squirmed hard, trying to escape.Panty hose are pretty tough.I grabbed a handful of her pubic hair. "Don't touch my p***y!"she screamed.Oh!, I'm gonna do more than touching it.I'm gonna f**k it,c*m in your mouth.I'm ready to stick my c**k into someone and you are handy,so get ready!" I slowly removed my clothes.When I dropped my boxers,she looked at my c**k and gasped,see this d**k? It's gonna be with for a few minutes.You're gonna love this,b***h! Don't f**k me,she pleaded.But I was hard already. When are you going to let me go? she whimpered. I might not let you go.I might just keep you here as my c*m slut.I know now that a man needs steady pussy.I've got one,so why should I let you go? I have to run my business.People will ask questions.I will be good from now on.I'll stop riding and insulting you. Then I untied the panty hose.To my surprise,she didn't jump up and fight me.Instead,she patted the bed next to her. Then she said,"Your c**k taste good".I'll wanting to do that again. Are you saying tou want me to f**k you again? I asked as I felt her finger on my d**k. "Come on, big boy, let's take our shower!" We raced upstairs, laughing and stumbling. At the bathroom door, I threw off my clothes and turned to watch her stepping out of high heels at the door of her closet. She hung up the blue suit jacket and the light behind her silhouetted her breasts through a plain white silk blouse. The snap at her hip was loosened and the skirt fell to the floor and I watched as she retrieved it and hung it in the closet. The blouse followed and she was standing in a full white slip with lace at the top and bottom. I think it was that moment when I fell completely in love with my mother. I mean not like motherly love. I mean full blown love. I just adored the creamy softness that she had standing in that pretty slip with dark bands of stockings barely visible. She unsnapped the garters through the slip and the perfection of her legs was spoiled by the slumping nylons as they slithered part way down her legs. "Do you mind?" she giggled, turning to me. "Can I have a little privacy, here?" she laughed and shooed me into the bathroom. "Get the water ready, young man!" I dragged my eyes away and soon the steam was rolling from the shower stall. I waited in the rising steam, writing my name on the glass over and over until the door opened and the lower half of my mom appeared. The triangle of hair was dark and curly and I could see the split between her legs through the soft curls. This was the ritual when we were going to an opera or another event together. We were loud in the echoing shower room, laughing and playing together. "You scrub my back and I'll scrub yours!" She turned to me and I filled the cloth with soap suds and reached up to her shoulder blades and began making large swirls over the marks left by her bra straps. She felt gorgeous, or sensuous, or delicious, I can't remember what word I would have used, but she was soft and smooth and wonderful. I washed over her generous hips and then watched the suds cascade over the cheeks of her bottom. I drizzled some on the split between her buns and made her laugh. "Now cut that out!" she said softly, with a smile. I knelt on the floor and scrubbed up and down her legs, my hands coming up to just touch between her legs. "Mmmhhh!" she said, indecisively, then parted her legs just a tiny bit and I pressed the length of my hand between the warmth of her buns. "Good. That's wonderful. I can do the rest!" She parted her legs and took the cloth from me. "God, but you are good at that!" she laughed. I wasn't sure why, but I knew that I had enjoyed the feeling of her flesh warm around my hand as she stood for that brief moment with my small hand exploring her secrets. So began my fascination with her pretty underwear. When I was alone in the house I could not resist going to her room and looking through her drawers. I would hold them up and imagine her wearing them, and rub the silky ones against my face. As time wore on I also rubbed my c**k in her panties and stockings. At least one time I had taken a lot of them and thrown them on the bed, took off my clothes and lain in them. It was sensational. Oh yeah! We are gonna to have a lot of fun together.You have created a s*x maniac. I smiled and rolled on top of her.I shove my c**k in and she moaned. Her p***y was getting wetter.Slowly I stroked into her in and all the way out."I can't believe I'm f*****g my mom"I moaned. Afterwards, I lay panting beside her.She had her finger round my wet dick.I had a finger in her pussy."God, I'm glad am a son of a b***h,"I moaned. From that day forward, Francis was totally fascinated with his mother. Even though he felt bad about it, he would peek in on her at every opportunity. He was also ashamed that he had gathered a large collection of her panties and hidden them in his lower dresser drawer under his gym clothes. Whenever he felt he could get away with it, he would steal another pair from the clothes hamper and use them to masturbate. the fantasy occupied his every s****l thought. Richard's peeping also grew more daring, causing him to risk being caught on many occasions. He even drilled a hole in the door to the bathroom so that he could watch her take her bath and do other unmentionable things. There was one benefit to his parents divorcing; now he had his mother all to himself. He was the man of the house at 18 and childishly thought that he was all that his mother needed. He would take care of her.