Who would have considered

This is a new story called ” Who would have considered” let’s begin…. Admittedly I was feeling pretty shitty when I walked in and dumped most of my worldly possessions back in my old bedroom. I was just twenty-five, married a little over a year, and already my marriage was over with. My wife, soon to be ex-wife as soon as I could contact a lawyer and start divorce proceedings, was pregnant. Problem was, it wasn’t mine.

I was nearly one hundred percent sure it wasn’t to begin with, though that wouldn’t be fully determined until we’d gotten the blood tests back after the baby was born. And why did I think that? Mainly, because I had stumbled onto Mike’s diary for one, which had started all this. Even after we started dating, as attractive as she was, high school sweetheart, cheerleader, and the whole nine yards. Even back then…she was the epitome of the running joke regarding dumb blondes. She had stupidly recorded each and every assignment with the equally dumb-assed ex-star quarterback. A guy she’d been seeing, and sleeping with behind my back almost from the very beginning.

Bad enough that, but then I’d faked going to work, parked around the corner from our apartment, and sure enough…not fifteen minutes later the asshole showed up. I waited fifteen minutes, plenty of time to let the two of them fuck themselves…literally. And then quietly opened the door, entering our apartment.

Seconds after I had, I could hear the two of them going at it like two cats in a burlap bag. I stopped briefly in the kitchen, grabbing a towel, and then walked down the hallway, just short of the bedroom door. They hadn’t even bothered to close it, so sure of themselves. Stealing myself, I walked the last few final feet, Mike was sitting on top of him, her back turned towards me, blocking the asshole’s view of the door as I quietly crept closer and closer towards them.

I’d already twisted up the wet towel…waited, timing the thrust, and then “thwap”. I let go with all my might, perfectly timed, perfectly aimed. Mike was so dumb, she actually thought Berferd balls, as I now thought of him, though his name was Bert as I recall, was climaxing. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how that must of felt, but I was grinning inwardly as he suddenly bucked up, screaming out for all he was worth, Mike trying to hold on like she was riding a bucking bronco, likewise crying out, only she was yelling, “Yes baby! Yes! Come for me! Come for me! Fill my pussy with your hot creamy juice!”

She didn’t know Berferd was shitting himself, the bed and everywhere else. Only then did I make my presence known to her.

“I hope he was worth it,” I said. “See you in court.”

**

While numb-nuts, and they sure as hell must have been, reached down trying to find out if he still even had a cock and balls. All the while still struggling to force air back into his lungs, and Mike now, wide-eyed, freaked (especially on discovering what she was now sitting in) jumped up off the bed, running around like a chicken with her head cut-off (and no shit…pun intended here) actually trying to cover herself with her hands.

Like that made any fucking difference at this point. Screaming out “EEEEEEEE WWWW, YUCK! EEEEEEEEUWWWW!” Looking at the bed, me…herself, the bed again, as I stuffed a few of my more important things into an old duffle bag.

“I’ll be back tomorrow for the rest of my things. Just make sure you and numb-nuts, or no-nuts rather, aren’t here when I do!” And with that, I left…heading home, though I wasn’t too happy about it, but having no place else to go at the moment, giving me no other choice.

Although I had my suspicions, and was relatively sure the baby wasn’t mine now, I couldn’t very well dump her out on the street until I knew for sure. How she managed, if she could manage to maintain the apartment on her pitiful income was no longer my concern. She could stay there until the next month’s rent was due, and then worry about wherever the hell it was she was going to live. At the moment…I could have cared less.

You see…I was still going to school, and working a part-time job, so having kids was completely out of the question. Even with Mike using birth control, I hadn’t wanted to take any chances of her getting pregnant, so we had always used…always, always used…a condom in addition to that.

Talk about fate playing a cruel joke here…she had indeed gotten pregnant anyway. I had even read the stupid fucking entry in her diary when she wrote about it, wondering even as she put it down, if it was Bert’s baby, and not mine. Especially as she also noted, “I’m not sure if Thomas and I ever did it without one?” She put a whole row of question marks behind her comment. That’s how dumb she truly was. As for the idiot, I noticed in that small split-second of perfect timing, poor old black and blue balls…hadn’t been wearing one.

**

Thirty minutes later I was standing in my old bedroom, having dumped out what little I’d brought with me onto my old bed. Not too surprisingly, no one was home. Mom would of course be at work…and my younger sister Stella would be attending school at a local university, as I knew she was carrying a pretty full course load. She worked part-time as well, so it was rare that she was ever home herself anymore, let alone…having any kind of a social life. I’d always felt my kid sister of two years was cute, certainly not drop-dead gorgeous,

but reasonably attractive. What she lacked in looks, if anything, she more than made up for in brains, having managed to get an almost full scholarship at the local university, which was helping her pay the way through the courses she was taking. Ironically enough, we could end up graduating at almost the same time together the way things were going. I then walked into the kitchen, pulled a beer out of the refrigerator, and had breakfast. After I’d done that, I figured I owed mom a phone-call, I could almost…but not quite hear her say, “I told you so.”

I knew she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t actually do that, say that…but she along with my sister had both tried very hard to get me to rethink my marrying Mike in the first place. I wish to hell I had listened to them.

And I hated dumping all this on mom anyway. She’d more or less been through it herself, the day my old man had walked out on her years ago, dumping mom for a woman half my dad’s age. Mom had gotten her “Told you so,” on him a year later when she ran off with yet another guy, and basically drained all of dad’s accounts.

He had tried to weasel his way back into moms affections, to no avail. She was the one who had given me the idea of the twisted up towel trick. Dad had intended to surprise her, seduce her in a sick twisted way, walking in on her while she’d been in the bathroom taking a shower. He’d stripped off his clothes, stood out in the hallway,

jerking himself until he was nice and hard, and then intended to come in and hopefully…entice her. Mom, luckily enough, had caught movement out of the corner of her eye, caught dad in the mirror preparing to sneak into the bathroom, and had just managed to twist up the towel off the rack, wetting it just beforehand. He came in, she opened the sliding glass door…and “Thwap”.

He was still laying on the floor when the police came and arrested him for breaking and entering, along with attempted rape, which was clearly quite obvious. But the real surprise came during the trial when his equally idiotic attorney had brought dad’s girlfriend in as a character witness. He actually tried using her to show that dad had been distraught, sorry for what he’d done, beside himself with grief.

Only that turned into something else as it was revealed that “what’s her name,” wasn’t twenty-one as she had claimed, hadn’t even turned eighteen until just a short time ago, which meant…dad had been having sex and sleeping with an under-aged minor for the better part of a year by this time. It was comical seeing his face as he sat there looking dumbfounded at the Judge, who sat looking back at him, scowling.

He ended up taking a plea deal and got fifteen years, he’d be out in five with good behavior.

He was still serving time. And I could have cared less.

**

After I finished my beer, I called mom at work. She was doing pretty well for herself by now, working as a claims adjuster for a fairly large Insurance company. As such, her hours were flexible, though she stayed fairly busy, once in a while traveling out of state even. But, she did love her job, felt self sufficient, enough so…she hadn’t gone looking for another man to fill the void.

Sure…she dated on occasion, and no doubt fucked some of the men she did date. On the nights she didn’t come home, that was pretty clear what she was doing. But she never once brought anyone home, not while Stella and I were still living there at least. And so far as I knew, even after I’d married and moved out, she hadn’t then either.

“Hi sweetie! What’s up?” Mom asked curiously. I very often did call her, just not usually first thing in the morning on a workday. I’d already called in, taken the day off…figuring I’d need to.

“Just wanted to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For the towel trick you pulled on Jack,” I told her. She got my meaning, ever since he’d left, I had refused to call him dad. And then I told her…the rest of the story.

**

I had tried very hard to dissuade her from coming home, but she wouldn’t have it. She was already on her way. Now worried and concerned for her “baby” as she’d called me, which I think to her, I always would be…no matter how old I got. In a way…it was comforting. I might very well be my own man at this point, but the truth of the matter was, I was in need of a little TLC myself at the moment. And mom was just what the Dr. ordered.

Except for one thing. It was because of mom that I’d moved out and gotten married in the first place. Not because of anything she’d ever done…but because of what I was afraid I might do. You see…I had always had this desire for her. A desire to try as I might…for so many years, I just couldn’t put it out of my head. And the last thing she needed was to have to be confronted with the likes of her own sick, twisted, perverted son.

Jack was bad enough, she didn’t need another one. And now…here I was again, right back where I’d started. On the one hand, I’m almost glad to be home again. On the other, scared shitless…afraid of what I might do or say, or inadvertently let slip out. All I could do for now was bide my time, hope for the best, and eventually move out, and find yet again, another place to stay that would keep some distance between the two of us. Until then, I’d have to be content with my secret, private fantasies and pleasures, and hope to hell she never found out.

She was home ten minutes later. And two seconds after that, she was holding my head against her breasts trying to comfort and soothe me. Which helped immensely, because it did. But…I was now also standing there with a very painful, hard throbbing erection, trying desperately to keep it from digging into her thigh, or anywhere else for that matter as she smashed my head against those almost perfect, full beautiful breasts of hers.

Yeah…I had seen them, on more than one occasion. Nudity had never been a major issue in our house growing up. Mom refused to let the situation with Jack turn sexuality, pleasure, and the rest of that into something less than what it was really meant to be. She didn’t openly parade around in the buff or anything, but if either Stella or I happened upon her while she was dressing, or undressing, she didn’t exactly shoo us out of the room either. She always went about her business as though we weren’t even there, never making it a big deal,

though it very often for me…became a big deal, later…in the privacy of my bedroom as I lay there on my bed jerking off, with whatever new images, thoughts…or fantasies I now had regarding her. Another reason I felt like such a shit for doing so. If mom ever found out how I felt, she’d no doubt find the way to take the blame for it herself, looking back, wishing she’d never been the way she’d been with us growing up. And that was the last thing I ever wanted her to do either.

But there I was now, only a millimeter of material away from having my face rubbing directly against those still gorgeous breasts of hers, and having a hard on to boot, which was going to take some fancy shuffling on my part, to keep her from being aware of.

She then spotted the empty beer bottle sitting on the kitchen table. “It’s a bit too early for that Thomas, how about I fix you some real breakfast instead?”

“I’m not really hungry mom…but coffee would be nice,” I told her. She relented, and began making it, while it dripped, she announced since she’d taken the rest of the day off so she could be with me, that she was going upstairs to change into her “comfy clothes” as she called them. Once again, I was almost wishing she wouldn’t. And then again…looking forward to seeing her in them again, it had been, after all, a long time since I had.

The coffee was just finishing when she came back down the stairs. I was already pouring us both a cup when she came back into the kitchen. Thank god I’d now had enough time for my erection to have gone down considerably, though upon seeing her…I knew I’d soon need the protection of the kitchen table to hide a renewed erection within moments of seeing her. Like I said…it had indeed been a while since I’d seen mom wearing her so-called, “comfy clothes.”

For mom, that usually meant, and in this case certainly did…no bra. Usually a wife-beater tee shirt, which she had on now, and which looked painted on truth, be told. She had naturally full “C” cup breasts at least, and at 46 years of age, she still looked damn fine, a hell of a lot better than most women her age.

She’d kept herself physically fit, almost daily working out in the downstairs exercise room she’d had put in. So she didn’t have a lot of excess fat, if any…and probably in a lot better shape than even I was. Though while living here, I’d worked out with her most every day as well, though again for me…I’d let the last several month’s get away from me as far as a daily regime of exercise went.

She also wore a pair of my old cut off sweats, wearing them almost too short…even for her, though she had the ass and legs to pull it off. I had always secretly gotten a kick out of the fact they were my old high school sweatpants. Mom said she enjoyed wearing them because it reminded her of me, and of course, they were nice and big, and still comfortable. Sometimes when she sat, depending on how, and where I was, I could see right up the pants leg. Very often I saw panties…usually, but…a time or two, I’d had a glimpse into paradise.

But it was an outfit she only wore inside the house, never out, and always changed out of it whenever anyone came over, even when they’d shown up unannounced. In front of Stella and I however…mom just loved wearing her comfy clothes whenever she planned on sticking around the house.

Like my sister, and my mom had dark brown hair, hazel colored eyes. Both Stella and mom very often wore their hair in ponytails, making them look almost like sisters, as opposed to being mother-daughter. That’s how good of shape mom truly was in. Only when she let her hair out full, wore a bit of makeup, did her true beauty and maturity, truly shine through. As much as I loved seeing her like that, I had also come to resent it too.

Usually when she dressed up like that, she was going out…either to attend some function or convention…or to spend the night in a hotel or motel some place, fucking another guys cock. I hated that I was jealous of that, hated what it did to me…hated the way I thought, and very often the way I acted around her, or even treated her, when I had no good reason for doing so. Mom eventually sort of caught on. After that, she’d maybe inform Stella as to what her plans were, which she’d then tell me later…after mom had already somehow managed to sneak out of the house without having to confront me.

Like I said…it had gotten to the point that when Mike came along, I jumped at the chance, even knowing as I did…it probably wouldn’t last.

**

Mom of course is now sitting across from me at the table, sipping her coffee. Me…trying very hard not to stare at her fairly dark, very obvious, dollar sized nipples, which seemed to be already pressing, and poking against the thin material of her tee.

“So, tell me again…at the beginning, when you walked down the hallway with the towel in your hand…”

Mom always had a way of making a bad situation, into something humorous, as long as it didn’t hurt or offend anyone. I knew she was trying to do that now, staying well away from the “I told you so,” she must have been thinking. I related the story again, and then we laughed, and cried hysterically as I recounted it, each time seemingly funnier, with Mike dancing around the room, covered in shit, and Bert wailing away like a baby, still rolling around in it himself. I wish I had had a camera with me. One of those “priceless” moments.

And then things sort of got serious again. “Well, I for one…am glad you’re back. And you damn well know Thomas, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like. There’s no reason for you to go rushing out, trying to find someplace else to live. Especially right now, where you need family, need to be with family…and that brings us to a whole other issue.”

“Oh? What?” I asked curiously…somewhat nervously. Another thing about mom was her uncanny ability to seemingly read minds. If not specifics, she knew enough to know when something was festering, bothering…and gnawing at either one of us…Stella or me.

“I know…you left to get married for reasons other than being in love with her. You’ll never convince me Thomas, that you ever really were. So…how about you now level with me? Why’d you run off and marry her in the first place?”

I knew damn well there was no way in hell I was going to tell her the real reason. Jesus, she’d kick my ass out the door the moment I mentioned a single word about the way I truly felt about her. So I quite naturally lied.

“Well, mainly…because you know, we’d just started having sex, and well…it seemed like it was the right thing to do at the time, you know…make it legal and all.”

“Ah huh…” Mom said, taking a sip of her coffee, peering over the rim of her cup at me as she said that. It sounded pretty lame, even to me.

“No…really,” I said in my own defense, though I knew damn well my eyes were saying otherwise as she looked directly into them.

“Ok, we’ll table this for now,” she offered. “Especially under the circumstances. But…I’m telling you right here and now, and I want you to promise me something…” she paused, waiting.

“Promise you what?”

“When you’re ready…you’ll tell me the truth, no matter what, no matter how bad you think it might be. You owe me that much. And I’ll promise you in return, I won’t judge anything you have to say, or share with me. And that…I do promise you!”

“Ah huh,” I said in kind. And then added, seeing her stern serious look. “Ok, I promise. Really…when I’M ready!”

At least she had given me that much. In my mind…I doubted I ever would be.

**

“Listen honey, why don’t you go up stairs and take a nice long hot shower, maybe it will help to relax you.”

That sounded like a fine idea on several counts. For one, it would again put some distance between us for a while anyway. And two, I needed to desperately do something about this almost painful erection I now had once again. Seeing mom in her “comfy clothes” had certainly gotten to me, and I’d been sitting there running through a scenario of decadent thoughts almost the entire time we’d been talking. That’s how sick and twisted I was. Even a simple conversation between us, didn’t detract from the visions I sat enjoying about my own mother.

I really was sick. And I had a hard time. First things first.

I entered the bathroom, got the water going nice and hot, stripped down, and then stepped in. The water felt good on my skin as it pummeled against me, already starting to relax, though still highly aroused. A mixture of emotions now flooding through me all at once. It just sort of hit me, unexpectedly. Wasting the last year of my life, soon to be divorced, home again…seeing mom again, I suddenly found myself standing there bawling like a baby. So consumed in my own grief, my stupidity, my absurd, perverted, twisted arousal, I hadn’t really heard the simple knock on the bathroom door.

Mom had decided I might need some fresh towels and had brought some up to me. I had forgotten what it was like living here. In the past, mom had done that before, a brief simple knock, and then if the door was unlocked, either to our bedrooms, or the bathroom, she’d simply walk in and do whatever she was there to do.

Whether that was to deliver towels, or folded clean laundry to our rooms. I should have remembered that, should have locked the bathroom door, though later…I wondered if I hadn’t subconsciously forgotten to do so…hoping mom would enter the room.

The thing was, she had. And she heard me…standing there in the shower crying. I wasn’t even aware of her presence until suddenly the sliding glass doors opened, and then she did something she had never done before, she stepped in…fully clothed, spinning me around, hugging her to me.

“Oh baby…oh honey, it’s ok…mommies here.”

Who would have considered will continue on the next page