Freudian Chance of a Lifetime Ch. 01

Three years ago, my life completely changed when I discovered that I was adopted. My "parents" had meant well, raising me in the best ways they could think of, but the truth of the matter was that no matter how hard they try to pretend I fit in with them and their other kids, the more ridiculously obvious that I never would it became. First off, both my sisters and one of my brothers is a red head, as is my mom, and my other brother is Auburn like my dad. My hair is light brown. My eyes are brown. My "relative" all have green. My skin color is three shades darker than my sister after she's been tanning. But more than that, every day I wake up and I run for a couple of miles to get the heart pounding. I've done this since high school. I like to exercise, but my "family"... they break into sweats getting off the couch for lunch.

Nothing about me and my family ever matched, but then, when I found out I was adopted, it all made sense. Suddenly I didn't feel a pressing need to go to my sister's piano recital or drive my brother 70 miles to a Magic: the Gathering tournament. Yeah, suddenly I was free to live my life the way I wanted, and that pretty much meant girls; lots of girls, all the time. Like I said, I like to work out. My parents are strict Presbyterians, so in High School, when I was in the best shape ever from three sports a year, I couldn't date. Suddenly being able to forget the strange things they taught me was the best thing that had happened to me.

For the first year I didn't even think about my biological parents, but after I was in college, playing college ball for the OSU Beavers, I suddenly started thinking about finding out who they were. Not that I cared about being a family, that hadn't really been a great thing for me as a kid, but just wondering if maybe there were some connections they had that might help me. For all I knew, my dad was the coach of a pro team. Then I'd be in.

So, about a year ago, I got the information on my parents. It wasn't much, but I found out some names which led me to the address listed for my father. I did research on the internet and found out my dad was a construction worker who had been a tight end in college football. He had been an NFL hopeful, but he got injured and found himself working instead of playing sports. Then one day, about 3 months before I was born, he died in some on the job accident. Tragic, but that was the end of my investigation. My mother, Kim Tucker, didn't turn up any good information, so I gave up. In fact, it seemed like after my dad died, so did my mom. No Kim Tucker in Idaho, or anywhere that matched my search criteria.

But like I said, I was going to OSU, and one night my roommate and fraternity brother suggested that we go up into Portland. I was raised in Boise, so I didn't know much about Portland, but I thought it sounded like a nice place. He told me that there was a club we could go too that was adult. I had only been 21 for a few weeks and didn't have a problem getting girls, so I didn't see the need to go to an adult club, but I went to Portland with him. I hung out at a bar instead.

That was the best choice ever. Sitting in the bar down by the waterfront, I probably looked like I didn't belong at a table by myself. Maybe that was why the waitress kept coming over to talk to me. At first I thought she was just being nice, but after the third time she'd come over to chat and touched my shoulder, I knew something was up. Her nametag said Linda, and she was older, but she was still hot.

I decided I was going to go for it, see what happened.

"So," I said, "I gotta ask. You're what, thirty?"

"Almost 40 sweetheart," Linda returned, cocking me a playful grin.

"No!" I argued in disbelief. She had perfect double d breasts, a tight core, and had no wrinkles on her face at all. My "mom" was 40 and looked like she'd been wadded up on the floor for most of that time. "Seriously, no older than 31."

"No, really," She returned. "I'm turning 38 this year." Leaning over to take away my empty beer glass, she whispered. "And age isn't a problem for me if it isn't for you."

"Age isn't an issue," I responded, "as long as you're not going to have a heart attack on me."

She laughed and then stood up straight. "Honey, I eat right, hit the gym 5 nights a week, and I ride my bike to work. I think 20 minutes with you isn't gonna kill me."

"Oh, I take a lot longer than 20 minutes," I responded.

"I've heard that before." She sauntered away, making sure to look back at me over her shoulder behind the wall that separated me from the back kitchen. A chill ran down my spine that got me more excited than I had ever been. It was more intense than the excitement when I realized that I was going to be having sex for the first time ever. This mature woman was clearly interested in me, and something told me that she had some tricks I had never seen before.

Without hesitation, I stood up and slipped into the back through the same entrance she went through. She hadn't been expecting me, I could tell, since she was turned away from the opening and was putting glasses into a rack that would slide into a washing machine. Her body was smooth and tight, showing little signs of wear over the years. Her ass was maybe a little bigger than most girls my age, but that was more of a turn on than a turn off. A little cushioning would be a good thing since the last bony assed girl I was with really liked it hard and I had bruises afterwards.

Stepping up behind her, I slid my hand onto that mound that I imagined would soon be pounding against my stomach, the two of us moaning is sheer pleasure. She reacted differently then I'd expected, snapping her head around in surprise. "Oh," she said before relaxing. "I didn't mean here, but I like your enthusiasm." She put her hand on my chest before leaning in to whisper in my ear. "I get off at 5 am. If you're still awake, you could be getting off too."

"Maybe," I returned. "I've got places to go, things to do."

She sucked air through her teeth before returning with, "Your loss then."

"Give me your number, and maybe it won't be."

She smiled and looked at me. Her brown eyes held in them a serious playfulness, one that seemed to stretch beyond anything I had imagined. I could tell that in her mind's eye, she was already fucking me. Suddenly, in my mental world, she was screaming in orgasm. And all the while, my jeans felt tight as my erection continued to grow.

"Alright," She said finally. Taking out a piece of paper from her apron, she wrote something and folded it neatly. Handing it to me, she said, "Just remember than I'm not going to be waiting around for you."

"Who said I was going to be waiting around for you?" I responded.

"Oh," she returned with a smile. "You will be."

I laughed to myself and then left the back room, dropping the money for my bill on my way out. I could have stayed a little while longer, but that would have made me look eager. Besides, I was ready to go in the back room, so watching her move around the room would have made it harder to keep from taking her right there. I'm not sure the management would have appreciated me bending her over the bar and slamming my dick into her ass.

Walking half a block, I came to the corner and stopped for the light. Unfolding the paper she'd given me, I read the info she'd put there. KIM 503-555-2345.

Kim? Her nametag said Linda. This was definitely something I would have to ask about. Why would someone have a different name on a nametag? I'm sure there were many reasons, but her particular answer interested me.

The rest of the night was spent going from place to place. Everything seemed gray and dulled in comparison to the fact that I was going to be fucking a mature brunette who certainly had everything I was looking for. She was hot, she was experienced, and she was totally into me. Even meeting up with my friend and hearing his stories of running a train on a girl he swore was 17 were disconnected and strange. I told him about the woman and he gave me his car after we got back to the hotel. So long as I cleaned up any messes, he didn't care.

"I'm not gonna bang her in the backseat," I told him.

"It wouldn't be a first for you," he returned.

"True," I responded, "But I'm thinking this chick has an apartment."

"Then wake the neighbors," he joked. I smiled in return. We probably would.

I managed to get back to the pub just in time to see her walk out the front door in some kind of chic kuro jacket and tie dyed scarf. It was kind of a hipster look, but still held the poise of individuality. If I didn't think she was hot before, I definitely did now. She looked down at her phone before saying goodnight to the guy locking the door behind her, looking around to see if I was there. Cocking a crooked smile, I opened the door and stepped out of the car, leaning between the hood and the door.

"Hey Kim," I shouted across the street.

Looking over at me, she smiled and then crossed the empty road heal to toe. I'd seen people do that in movies, but never in real life. "I knew you'd be waiting," she shouted back from the middle of the street.

"Only long enough to see you checking the time," I returned.

She looked down at the ground before she came up to be me. Without hesitating, she kissed me. Her soft lips on mine almost felt like they weren't there, so soft and light that they only seemed to be brushing the skin rather than actually touching it. My erection grew harder before I even realized that her hand was on my cheek, stroking the two days worth of stubble I'd been growing.

Finally pulling back for a breath she looked up at me with those eyes and seemed to say it all. "So far so good," she responded. Somehow I wondered if I'd managed do something right.

Walking to the other side, she got in the passenger seat and clicked her seat belt. I smiled and looked at her from my doorway, wondering what she had in mind. "So," I asked, "where we going?"

"Well," she responded. "I wasn't thinking about the backseat, so how about my place?"

"What makes you think I don't have a place?" I asked, climbing back into the driver's seat.

"You have that out of town look to you," She responded, "which is perfect. I don't like mixing work with pleasure, you know."

I smiled. So she was telling me that she didn't pick people up from her work, but I was special because I wasn't from Portland. That meant maybe we'd hook up again the next time I passed through town. If things went well, I'd be looking forward to that second hook up. "I'm visiting from Corvallis," I responded. "But I'm not from there either."

"Oh," she asked. "Where are you from?"

"Boise," I returned.

"Yeah?" She responded. "I grew up near Garden City. Portland is a much better fit for me though."

I laughed and turned on the car. She guided me through the complex grid of one way streets until we managed to get to her apartment: a high rise studio next to the river and near a bridge. I knew nothing about the area, but it seemed clean and there was a park next to it, so all in all I was impressed. It wasn't the kind of rundown place that I was sorta expecting from a waitress.

"How do you pay for this?" I asked, when we entered the glass doors of the building. The whole lobby seemed to be made of granite. The security guard nodded to us as we entered but just watched as we walked on through.

"Well," she answered when we were in the elevator. "I do some modeling every now and then. It's not a career, but it does pay the rent. The waitressing is mostly because I like the atmosphere and I need a little more money to pay the bills."

I laughed. She was a model. That made sense now. "Nude?" I asked.

She laughed before turning to face me. Pinning me against the corner of the elevator corner, she rose a little on her toes and kissed me again, this time more fierce and passionate then before. Feeling the warmth of her body against mine created a sensation that rolled throughout my body, causing my erection to stiffen and my back to tighten. Her breasts were pressed against my chest and I could feel there was nothing fake about them at all. They were plump and soft at the same time, meaning they would be fun to play with.

She pulled away just as the door opened to let us off. I didn't know what to think, completely taken aback by her aggressiveness; I followed sheepishly down the hallway and into her place. It was simple and clean, a white leather couch and a coffee table were all that she had in the living room. I noticed there wasn't a TV and where there should have been a remote, there as an iTouch.

"No TV huh?" I asked.

"Nope," She returned. "I like to work out instead."

"Me too," I returned. "While my brothers and sisters were watching Lost, I was learning to ski."

She chuckled and motioned for me to sit down. "I don't know about you," she said, "but I could use some coffee. Would you like a cup?"

"No thanks," I responded. "But if you've got some orange juice, that'd be nice."

She nodded and walked into the small kitchen area. She went about the business of making some coffee before she poured me some juice and went into the bedroom. The anticipation was driving me crazy, but I drank my juice in silence until the coffee maker beeped.

Returning in a silk robe, she looked at me before she deliberately walked across the living room slowly, showing me her tight fit legs. She had a perfect tan base and the arch of her knee showed the signs of someone who took care of herself. The robe went down just enough to hide her panties, but not enough to keep me from thinking about them, pushing my erection to the point of bursting through my pants. The denim held, but I felt as though the tip might push through at any moment.

She sat down next to me on the couch and curled her feet away, almost in defiance. She looked at me and grinned before sipping from her coffee. "So tell me, Mister Boise. Been with a lot of girls."

"Sure," I responded. "All of them shallow and young though."

"Sounds like you need someone a little more mature," she returned.

"Only from time to time," I responded. "You know, to keep my skills up."

"Like practice," she responded.

"Just like practice," I responded and sipped at my orange juice. We sat in silence for a moment before I asked, "Why did you leave Garden City?"

"I couldn't stay there," she responded, "too many bad memories. Being a single pregnant teen in redneck country isn't easy."

I nodded. There were a couple of girls like that in my school, and everyone had made fun of them. Not to their face, but it was always there. They hated the fact that they were unchaste, but at the same time, they all wanted to bang them. It was the strangest paradox. "That's true," I returned. "What happened to the kid?"

"I couldn't keep it," she said. "And you'd never know I'd been pregnant." She stretched out to show me her body again and I didn't see any signs of small pouches that signified pregnancy. I didn't see any. "I worked hard to get rid of the weight and I finally did. And what they say about Cocoa oil is true. No stretch marks."

I nodded and sipped orange juice. A strange and perverse though suddenly entered my head. What if this Kim from Garden City was actually my Kim from Boise. Garden City wasn't that far outside of Boise, there was a chance. My mind began racing with the idea that she could be my mom. After all this time, was it possible that I'd randomly met my mother in a bar. And what was worse, I was making out with her.

I paused for a second as the adrenaline rushed through my veins. What if I had been making out with my mom... That was incest. Serious levels of incest. That was the kind of stuff that sent a person straight to hell according to my parents. But then, that was if you believed in God, and at this point in my life, I hadn't really seen anything to prove it. So what if she was my mom, there wasn't inherently wrong with it, was there? According to Freud, every guy wanted their mom anyway, right.

Here was my chance to fulfill every man's fantasy. If she was my mom, she didn't know it. I could fuck her and know what it was like to fuck my own mother and she would never be the wiser. No one was hurt, no one would know, just me. I would be clean and clear of any oedipal complexes and in the end have an enjoyable night with a mature woman. As long as I didn't say anything to screw it up, then everything would be alright.

"How old were you when you had the kid?" I asked, thinking that to be the next logical question in the stream. I didn't want to let on that something had changed. Besides, maybe she wasn't my mom.

"Sixteen," she responded. "It sounds bad, I know, but I was in love with construction worker who'd added an addition onto our house. We met up a few times and I got pregnant, that simple."

"Yeah?" I asked. She was definitely my Kim. My mom, rather. "And then he left you?"

"No," she said, "actually, he wanted to get married and do the right thing. But there was an accident and he died."

Definitely my mom. My cock hardened at the realization if I played this right, I would be fucking my mom doggiestyle soon. "Oh," I said, trying to show some kind of empathy. "That's too bad."

"Yeah," She said, "but that was twenty years ago. It's all like a distant memory. He had always wanted a son, so he was happy when he died."

"It was a boy then?"

"Yeah," she said. "I had to put him up for adoption." She sipped her coffee and we were quiet for a moment. She looked at me hard, obviously searching for my reaction. I stayed calm and cool, never letting on that I'd realized that she was my mother. In all the chance meetings in the world, here I was, sitting in my mom's place, drinking my mom's orange juice, after having made out with her, and she was probably wearing nothing under her robe. "Does this bother you?" She asked finally.

"Nope," I returned, setting my glass down. I turned to face her and responded, "Actually, I've always fantasized about being with a MILF. If you had a kid, that definitely puts you in the category."

She smiled back and set her coffee down on the table next to my glass. Leaning in, she started kissing me again. I returned the kiss, putting my hands on her cheeks and pulling her in. It was different this time, I wanted it more. The excitement of kissing my mom created swirling emotions inside me that pushed blood straight into my cock. I wanted to fuck her right now, to feel the wetness of her pussy around my cock, to feel her wetness running down my balls, to hear her screaming my name.

I slid my hands down her neck and shoulders, letting them find their way to her breasts, cupping them gently before I squeezed. She moaned gently as I felt the flesh between my fingers, my mom's tits in my hands. That was every guy's fantasy, and here I was fulfilling it. I started to squeeze and kneed them, listening to her moan into my mouth. Before long, her hand was massaging the bulge in my pants. I could feel her hand through the denim, touching all the right places. She was definitely experienced at this.

Pulling away from the kiss, she smiled and looked down at the bulge. "You're not a small guy, are you?"

"Nine inches," I responded. "Not huge, but not small either."

"That's perfect," she said, continuing to stroke the cloth. "That'll fit nicely." She smiled and undid my belt. The excitement of my own mom going for my cock made me involuntarily flex the muscles that controlled it. She had me on edge and we hadn't even started yet.

Popping the top button to my pants, she leaned on my, motioning around so that I was lying back on the couch while she straddled my shins. Slowly unzipping my jeans, she lifted my shirt and kissed my abs. For the first time ever, I was grateful for the coaches that wouldn't let me go home from practice until three hundred situps became a daily behavior.