Mom's Perfect Peach

Story Info
Son comforts his mom after her separation.
13k words
4.7
617.9k
808
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

Gayle, you are indeed my Literotica savior! Much love for all the care you pay to my work.

RW2

-----------------------------------

I was sitting in my cubicle at work one Tuesday afternoon a few months back, when I received a call from my older sister, Sarah. She rarely called me in the office, so I gave her a few minutes fearing something might be wrong. At first, she just made boring small talk, so I figured things were fine after all. Candidly I found the conversation annoying since I was under a deadline to finish a project, so I cut her off and told her I'd have to phone her back later. I was a bit exasperated when she said, "Wait, Jon, I have something to tell you."

I tried not to let my frustration show too much, and as calmly as possible replied, "What is it?"

"Mom and Dad are getting divorced," she stated solemnly.

I was stunned! In my head I thought this just had to be some kind of joke or misunderstanding, but her tone of voice said she was deadly serious. A thousand questions instantly began swirling around in my head but I didn't know which one to ask first. Finally, I muttered, "How do you know?"

"I just got off the phone with Mom, she's really upset."

"Did she tell you why?" I asked, still thinking this couldn't really be possible.

"She didn't want to talk about the specifics, but apparently Dad's already moved out," Sarah responded softly, her voice cracking as if she'd been crying.

"Already? I asked in disbelief. "Where to?"

"He moved in with his buddy Mark for the time being."

I had to ponder that in silence for a while, wondering how it could all be happening so fast. "Jesus, Sarah, did you have any idea something was wrong?" I asked, still somewhat in shock.

"Not a thing. She only told me because I was bringing the twins down to see her tomorrow night and she didn't want to catch me off guard in front of them."

I let her words settle in for a moment before I asked, "Should I call her?"

"No, she made me promise not to call you, but I just had to. She wants to tell you herself, she's just not ready yet," Sarah responded, sniffling every now and again. We spoke for a few more minutes before I apologized, telling my sister I had to run. She said she'd call me later after she put the boys down for the evening, and said good bye.

I sat at my desk for a long while as I tried to process what I had just heard. For many years I assumed Dad had won the marital lottery when he landed my mom, and would do everything in his power to keep her happy. Yet reading between the lines, it almost appeared that he was the one ending the relationship. I could almost see Mom in my head, and I pondered how anyone in their right mind could ever let her get away. I know I wouldn't anyway.

I walked to the water cooler to get a drink and clear my head a bit, and then forced myself back to the project. At first, the spreadsheet on my monitor looked Greek to me as my mind was swimming with the news, but somehow I settled down and focused on the job at hand. After I e-mailed my boss the finished product at about 6:00 PM, I headed out the door for home.

Home, at that time, was a crappy two bedroom apartment I shared with a friend from school. Aaron and I graduated from college together two years before, and we remained friends. We both worked near one another in Seattle, so just under a year ago we signed a lease on a place nearby both our jobs.

Aaron thankfully was out, so I just sat in silence on the couch trying to figure out what may have happened between my parents that led to this. I knew no marriage was perfect, but my folks always seemed like they genuinely enjoyed one another's company. What's more, I couldn't remember them even raising their voices towards one another more than a couple of times my entire life. Compared to most of my friend's parents, mine always seemed like a dream couple.

I was in the apartment for an hour or so when Sarah called after putting her twin three year old sons to bed. We talked for hours, with Sarah breaking out in tears a few times, but mostly we tried to figure out what happened. I didn't want to be the one to say it, but since it happened so fast, I could only think of one possible motive. "Think Dad had an affair?" I pondered aloud.

"That's what I was thinking too," she replied, and then we speculated if and how it may have happened for a while. We said good night after I promised not to tell Mom that Sarah had broken the news.

I decided to lay low for a couple of days, and then stopped back home Saturday morning, unannounced. Mom was, of course, surprised to see me, and appeared quite disheveled. She welcomed me with a hug as always, then led me to a seat at the kitchen table where we usually spoke.

Tears welled in her eyes as she said, "Jonathan, I have some news to share with you." I wanted to tell her I knew, just to spare her a measure of pain, but kept my word to Sarah. "Your father and I are getting divorced."

I reached my hands across the table and took her hands in mine, and responded, "I'm so sorry, Mom."

It was impossible not to love my mother, and my own eyes began to run as I felt her deep pain as it tore me to bits. She was without a doubt the sweetest person I had ever known, and I wondered how my dad could have hurt her so badly.

I let her talk when she wanted to and offered support and encouragement, but mostly we just sat in silence. She never mentioned my father or gave any hint as to what happened, and I knew it wasn't the time to ask. Mom kicked back into caretaker mode a while later, demanding I stay for lunch, and made us both sandwiches. She broke down in tears again when I left, just as I pulled her into a long, tight embrace.

It was gut-wrenching seeing my mom that broken in spirit, so I made it a point to check on her daily. She lived in a suburb just to the east of Seattle, so it was not difficult for me to pop in every couple of days, but I called all the time. I gently prodded her from time to time for details on the split, but she always managed to change the subject.

I was surprised that I still had not heard from my dad, so in my mind that made him the guilty party, if there was one. I debated whether I should call him or not, but figured it was his place to make the first move.

Two weeks later, I again stopped in on Saturday afternoon, and was pleased to find mom in a bit better spirits. Later that day, I tried to take her out to dinner, but she flat-out refused and soon was cooking a meal for us both. I ran out to the store and picked up a bottle of wine, which we enjoyed with our meal. I had hoped Mom might open up after a few glasses of vino, but she remained pretty tight lipped about the divorce.

Sarah and I spoke almost daily as well, and she had been unable to get much out of Mom either. We, of course, still hatched our little conspiracy theories, and pretty much had come to the conclusion that Dad was either sleeping with a work associate or client. We just wondered how it was that Mom found out.

That Friday, I called Mom from work and told her I was taking her out to dinner the next night. She fought me, just as I expected, but I would not take no for an answer. She finally gave in and I told her I would pick her up at 7:00, and to wear something nice. When I arrived home to pick her up Saturday night, I was not disappointed with what I found.

I guess now would be a good time to tell you more about my mom. I wouldn't say she was the most beautiful woman in the world, but I'm quite sure most people would describe her as cute. She stands about five foot, three inches tall, and has a nice but somewhat curvy figure. Mom's face is on the rounder side, with dark eyes and cute rosy cheeks. Her hair is jet black, which she usually wears short, never longer than her shoulders. If I had only one word to pick to tell how she looks, I'd choose adorable. At forty six, she was still a cutie.

Mom dressed for the evening in a navy blue dress, which looked sweet, with just the right hint of sexy. It was knee length, with a slightly plunging collar, providing just an inviting morsel of cleavage. I must say the dress really fit her well, highlighting her womanly charms perfectly.

My plan was to get Mom a bit drunk, and once again go on the offensive for information about the divorce, since Dad had called neither Sarah nor I. Mom seemed to really enjoy herself in the quaint little bistro, and we chatted mostly about my sister and her two adorable kids. I kept her glass full the entire time, and her usual rosy cheeks took on an even deeper tone. After dinner, I ordered Mom a glass of port, which she sipped as we shared a dessert.

When we arrived back at Mom's house, we sat together on the sofa and chatted for a while, before I finally asked about Dad. She just stared at me for a moment through slightly glassy eyes, and said, "Come on, you must have known."

"Known what?" I asked, truly having no idea of the real facts.

"Are you honestly as naïve as I was?"

"Mom, Sarah and I have no clue what led to this," I responded, trying to sound as sincere as possible.

She remained silent for a moment, then said, "Let me go get out of this dress and we'll talk." With that, she got up and headed off down the hall.

About five minutes later, she returned wearing what looked like an old pair of full length flannel pajamas. It was a cool fall evening, so I guess she wanted comfort and warmth. After pouring a glass of water in the kitchen, she once again joined me on the couch. She asked, "Are you sure you want to hear about all this?"

"I'm sure," I nodded.

"Well, I'm not really sure how to tell you, but here goes," she began, and then jumped right in. "Looking back now, I should have seen the signs years ago. Your dad and I were always good friends, but candidly our love life was never that thrilling." She stopped for a second, and then asked, "Are you really sure you want to know this stuff?"

I must admit, I had not expected the last part, yet I responded, "Yes, please go on."

"Well, like I said, our love life was never as passionate as the way some of my friends described their own. When your dad and I were first married, we made love once or twice a week, and over the years that dwindled quite a bit. Five years or so ago, we were down to once a month at the most," she went on, and then stopped for a sip of water.

"About that time he joined the gym, you may recall, or maybe not, as you were away at college, but suddenly he was a bit more invigorated. Our sex life picked up for a while, but your dad kept asking me to do something we'd never done before. It wasn't something that appealed to me very much; I did it for him because I was desperate for affection and wanted to please him. That's also when he met Mark."

I tried my best to concentrate on her every word and show her support, but at times my mind wandered, wondering where this was all going. What the hell did this have to do with Mark anyway? Mom couldn't have cheated with Mark, or Dad certainly wouldn't have moved in with him.

"At first, it was only once a week, "I'm going out with Mark to have a drink," or something like that. Then it was twice a week, then three times or more. They were golfing, fishing, playing cards...everything under the sun. It was always Mark, Mark, Mark." she said, flipping her hands in the air.

Suddenly I had an idea of what the real source of the problem just might be, a thought I never before even contemplated.

She continued, "Early on, I encouraged it as your father never really had a good buddy to chum around with. But after a few years, I found I was alone in the evenings more than I had company. Some nights, your dad would inhale his dinner before he was off to Mark's to watch one ball game or another."

I could see tears begin welling in Mom's beautiful dark eyes as she paused for a while. She took another sip of water, and said, "So while I was home alone, wondering what I had done wrong, and why your father seemed to have such little interest in me, he was out with his god damned boyfriend."

Suddenly it was all so clear. Dad was gay and had finally come clean about it and moved in with his lover. Maybe that's why he hadn't been in contact with Sarah or me; he wasn't ready to come out to us yet. Dad had always told us honesty was the best policy, yet he himself appeared to be living a lie for years. No wonder he was reluctant to contact us.

Mom's head dropped into her hands and her body shook as she cried. I scooted closer to her and pulled her into a tight embrace. "I'm so sorry, Mom," I whispered into her ear as I gently rubbed her back. She melted into my arms and buried her face into the nape of my neck, softly sobbing.

I had absolutely no idea what to say as I had never, ever expected to hear that news. I wanted to hate my dad for divorcing Mom, but how could I if he really was gay? I wondered why he ever got married in the first place, and if he knew back then I would be angry, but otherwise?

"I'm sorry you had to hear all that," Mom whimpered, her face now resting against my shoulder.

"No, I'm glad you told me, Mom," I replied, and gave her a light squeeze.

After a pause, she said, "I don't want you to hate your father, okay."

"Okay," I muttered softly.

I was shocked when she said flatly, "But I'll always hate that fucking bastard." In all my life, I had never heard her use a curse word or anything even close. Having no idea what to say, I kept my mouth shut and just held her.

Mom pulled away from me, and stared directly into my eyes. "Are you surprised I said that?" she asked, her eyes red and damp.

At a loss for words, I just muttered, "Not really."

"You have no idea what this has done to me, Jonathan. For years I thought everything was my fault. That your father wasn't interested in me because I wasn't pretty enough, or I wasn't thin enough, or even that I wasn't good enough in bed. And now after beating myself up over and over again, I find I could never have given him what he wanted. Can you understand how angry that makes me?" she whimpered, tears freely flowing.

"I'm so sorry, Mom, I really am," I whispered back, seeing the pain clearly written all over her lovely face.

"Why couldn't he have just told me the truth ages ago and spared me all this?" she asked, looking like a lost child. I had no idea what to say, but Mom really started heating up at that moment. "I joined a gym to try and make myself prettier for him. I even bought sexy lingerie to try and please him, but of course it never worked. Can you imagine how silly I must have looked dancing around the bedroom in a teddy trying to entice a gay man? I was such a fool."

Mom's face was red now, and she looked angrier than I'd ever recalled seeing her. "He shattered my confidence. That man shattered my fucking confidence! God, he made me feel so ugly!" she shouted, her hands pulled into fists. After a long pause, she said more calmly, "I'm sorry, but I can never forgive him for that."

I was dumbfounded, as I'd never seen anything like that from her before. Candidly, I was glad she let it out as she suddenly seemed more human to me. She wasn't just some iconic mother figure; she was a real person with feelings and emotions like anyone else. It was also nice to know she could be honest with me and not keep something inside her bottled up to the point of explosion.

We sat staring at one another as tears streaked down her face. I couldn't take seeing her like that another second, so I pulled her into a tight embrace once more. I wanted to say just the perfect words, but couldn't put my fingers on them, so I told the truth. "You're not ugly, Mom, you're gorgeous."

"Oh, please," she muttered softly, her face pressed to my chest.

"I'm serious, you really are a beautiful woman," I said as I stroked her head gently.

Mom pulled back and looked up at me kindly, "You don't have to say those things just to be nice to me, Jonathan."

"I'm not just trying to be nice, Mom. You're adorable," I whispered softly, and then before I could stop myself, added, "I've always thought you were pretty."

She paused for a moment and gazed at me in wonder, before she said, "I'm feeling really vulnerable right now, sweetie. Please tell me you meant that."

I smiled down upon her and replied, "More than anything I've ever said in my life."

There was more awkward silence, before Mom broke into a small grin and asked, "Adorable even in my tattered old PJ's with mascara running down my face?"

"You'd be beautiful dressed in a burlap sack, Mom," I responded solemnly, and meat it completely.

"God, what did I do to deserve you?" she asked, her eyes looking much softer.

"You raised me to be this way, guess it's your fault," I joked, drawing a smile across her face.

Mom wiped her tears on the back of her hand, and then stood. "Look at me, I must be a sight. Let me go get cleaned up," she said, and started from the room.

I have no idea why I did it, but for some reason I said, "Mom, why don't you change into one of your pretty nighties. It might make you feel better about yourself if you looked sexy." The second the words came out of my mouth I felt myself blushing.

Mom stared back at me for a moment as if I had three heads, but then she muttered, "Yea, maybe." With that she walked down the hall towards her room leaving me all alone in my embarrassment. I actually thought of leaving, but figured I couldn't with my comment hanging out there in the room.

About five minutes later, Mom reentered the room, wearing a long white terrycloth robe which went from her shoulders to about six inches from the floor. The bottoms of her old pajamas were visible poking out from around her feet, so I knew she had not changed. I was horrified that not only did she apparently not take my suggestion, but added another thick layer to keep my eyes as far away from her as possible.

She sat aside me once more, and I could see her face clearly had been tended to. The makeup that had streaked her face was now washed away, and her eyes were far less red. She gave me a simple smile, and asked, "Do I look any better?"

I just chuckled and joked, "Just a bit."

Still feeling really uncomfortable from my sexy nightie comment, I decided that maybe it was time for me to go. I told her I had to be on my way, and she leaned in for a quick hug and kiss. On the drive home I couldn't stop beating myself up over what I had said. I was sure Mom must have thought I was a total creep or worse. She needed support, and I couldn't keep my raging hormones in check.

I was snapped out of my self-loathing by the cell phone vibrating in my pocket. I had intentionally shut the ringer off during dinner and had neglected to turn it back on after leaving Mom's place. Of course, I was not surprised to read Sarah's name on the back of the display. She knew my plan for the evening, so I'm sure she had been chomping at the bit to call me for details. As soon as I answered, she asked, "So, what do you know?"

Telling her over the phone was probably not the best option, but I figured it was best to just get it over with. "Are you sitting down?" I asked.

"Just tell me, will you," she barked impatiently.

"Well, it's just, umm," my words failed me as I tried in vain to think of the softest way to break the news.

"Out with it!" she demanded.

I took a deep breath and replied, "Okay, I'm not sure how to say this, but here goes. Dad's gay."

"Are you kidding me?" Sarah bellowed through the phone into my ear.

"Nope," I responded as calmly as possible.

"This isn't funny, you know. Will you please stop screwing around and spill the dirt," she begged, yet after I remained silent for a while, she quietly asked, "You are just messing with me, right?"