A Box of Polaroids

The day my father died, was the day it started, they told me.

That was the day my mother changed.

Some said it was shock, and assured me it would fade away.

She wasn't suffering from depression, and not quite catatonia.

When I arrived home I could see exactly what they meant.

She moved like she was in a trance, quiet and listless. She slept a lot, and talked very little.

She peered out the window for hours and listened to people speak, but what she was really seeing and hearing, no one could tell me.

She didn't seem to be in distress, or distraught. There was no weeping or crying, just a state of unemotional unresponsiveness.

"Dee is in a state of denial, perhaps a kind of mental break with reality." The doctor said to me.

"The event was an overload, so she detached from it. Just keep an eye on her, she may come out of it. At this point, there's nothing I can do."

"I live out-of-state." I replied. "My parents and I, we weren't close, to tell you the truth. My grandparents raised me from early on. I don't really know my mother."

"That's a shame. But I recommend staying with her anyway, until you can figure out her care."

So I moved into their house.

My parents were young when they had me - my father was twenty, and my mother was eighteen.

She was five foot nine, with a curvy build, and dark hair, a cute pert nose, freckles and hazel eyes.

My friend Jimmy would tell me she was hot, good-looking; had the best boobs of all the mothers he knew, but I never really noticed.

My mother and father just weren't around that much. I always felt like I was a surprise, a little intrusion into their lifestyle.

My parents, traveling for long periods of time, made arrangements for me to stay with my grandparents.

It was a fact that my grandparents had basically raised me.

By High School I was going months without seeing my parents. By graduation both my grandparents had passed and I was living alone, spending time packing up their house, which they left to me.

I skipped college and moved to the city to start work at a marketing firm. I had turned my Grandparents old house into an Airbnb, and I started my life in the city.

Two years later, just after I turned twenty, I got the call about my father.

I put my life on hold and traveled to their house.

My mother was just thirty-eight.

I hired Maria, a live-in caregiver to take care of the basics that my mother could no longer handle. Things like getting up in the morning, getting dressed, bathing and nutrition. Maria handled all of it, while I stayed on to support her as best I could.

"Is she getting better?" I said one day.

"That person you knew is gone." Maria replied. "Never to return."

"Never?"

"I've rarely seen someone so lost inside their mind. Your mother won't be coming back."

"Why do you say that?"

"This is her new real. You see?"

I didn't see, not yet.

Then came the Pandemic. And the lockdown.

Maria left to take care of her own family.

We were on our own, for a while at least.

All of our groceries and staples were now delivered, as going out was no longer an option.

The house had an entertainment system, a workout space, a sauna and a wine cellar. All the bells and whistles, my father made sure of that.

So I settled in.

Dad's large insurance settlement had set my mother up very comfortably, so she wouldn't have to worry about money ever again.

My job in the city started laying everyone off due to the Pandemic, so I quit to be with Dee.

Now I could "keep an eye on her" full time.

Now, with Maria gone, my mother was my responsibility.

She would eat if I put food in front of her, she would dress if I laid out clothes. I guided her to the living room in the morning and turned on the TV for her, but sometimes she would just look out the window.

Two months went by.

I found the box cleaning out Dad's stuff.

It was well hidden in the master bedroom, a room I was never allowed in.

What was in the box altered my brain chemistry, that's the only way I can explain it. After I opened it, it became an obsession.

It contained over a hundred explicit Polaroid pics of a woman I recognized as my mother engaged in a variety of sex acts.

Some with men other than my father, some with groups of men, a few with women.

My father was in none of them, I reckoned he was behind the camera.

There were photos of my mother bound with rope and being screwed by a stranger, while a muscular arm reaching into the frame, squeezing one of her large tits. Another with my mother wearing a leather mask with a large cock in her mouth. Yet another with her sitting on the side of the bed with a thin, pale girl with red hair, both nude and kissing.

The hundreds of images modified and reshaped the way I saw the person I vaguely knew as my mother.

I don't think I realized it at the time, but looking at the pictures I saw her as a sexual being for the first time.

Seeing her like that was like being introduced to a stranger.

Five months into being isolated in the house she called me "John."

That was my father's name.

We were sitting in the living room. She was staring out the window, watching it rain.

"John, come sit with me." She said.

To hear her initiate conversation was rare, and I didn't want to interrupt the moment by correcting her.

I moved to the couch and sat next to her.

She was wearing a soft, fuzzy robe, as she did every day. She was dressing herself now, and that was a win, even though I knew that the robe was all she was wearing.

She snuggled next to me and placed her hand on my thigh.

Unbidden, my cock began to grow inside my flannel sleep pants.

I hadn't sex for almost seven months now, maybe more, and her touch was sent a shiver through me.

Her robe had fallen open a bit and I could see her large tits.

I put my arm around her and she put her head on my shoulder.

She took my hand and placed it inside her robe, on one of her bare tits. I could feel her nipple, as my hand closed involuntarily on her breast.

I froze, not knowing how to react.

If I pulled away, would it shatter this reality for her? How would that affect her in this mental state?

Would she slide into a depression if I denied this reality? Would she hurt herself?

I also realized that I was holding one of my mothers tits in my hand. It was warm, the skin was soft, and it was firm.

Her nipple was hard under my fingers.

"Why don't you make love to me anymore John?" She asked, pressing my hand down onto her soft tit.

An image flashed into my head, one of the Polaroid pics.

My mom smiling, shirt unbuttoned, both tits out as a burly, hairy man holds one in his big hand, lifting it up slightly for the camera.

"I'm...waiting for you to feel better." I replied.

"I feel perfectly alright. You know you can do whatever you want to me John."

This was apparently true.

Cleaning out my fathers things I had uncovered a trove of information on their sex life. It seemed that my Mom was very submissive, and they had a large collection of toys they had accumulated over the years. Soft ropes, leather, cuffs, dildos, vibrators, cock rings, and a Polaroid camera.

And of course, the large cigar box of pictures.

An image flashed in my mind, one of the pics from the box.

My mom is on all fours, nude on a bed, her tits hanging, I recognize my fathers torso behind her, taking her doggy-style. A young, thin guy kneeling in front of her, his long, veiny cock in her mouth, his hand on the side of her head.

"I know, I'm just not in the mood." I said gently withdrawing my hand from inside her robe.

She sighed.

"Well, alright." Dee said softly and put her head back on my shoulder, one of her large breasts firm and soft against my arm.

Seven months.

The door to the master bedroom was open slightly.

I let Dee continue to sleep there, hoping it would bring some reality back into focus. Maybe it was reinforcing her current state, I couldn't be sure.

I thought I heard a sound, and paused there at the door.

A kind of a gasp.

Maybe she was having a bad dream, I thought, so I looked in.

The covers were gathered at the foot of the large bed, and she was laying on her back, supported by a pile of pillows behind her head.

Her legs were drawn back and open wide.

She was rubbing her clit with one hand, while plunging her fingers in her pussy with the other.

I could clearly hear the wet sound of her fingers sliding in and out of her cunt.

Her big tits were jiggling softly, and I realized she was having an orgasm.

Hey body jerked powerfully a few times, and she pulled away her hands, thrusting her hips a little. She lay there trembling, making a soft moaning sound.

In the half light I saw her re-insert her fingers, and slowly move them in and out for a while.

She turned over, hugging a pillow and seemed to fall asleep.

I quietly moved away from the door.

An image flashes in my mind. One of the pictures

Dee is one her back, one hand holding her wet, pink pussy open, the other squeezing one of her big tits. Just to her side. visible from the waist down is a chunky, burly man, his cock thick and flaccid. Next to him is a woman, leaning forward holding a large flesh colored dildo, the head of the fake cock just inside Dee's pussy.

My cock was very hard, so I went to my room to take care of it.

Nine months.

She was standing in the middle of the bathroom in her robe, staring out the window.

"Dee, what are you doing?" I said gently. "You're supposed to be taking a shower."

"Hmmm?" she said, turning to me.

"Your shower." I said, pointing to the large glass-enclosed shower.

"Oh." she said.

She paused for a moment then shed her robe and reached for the door.

She turned to me, one hand on the chrome handle, her full, round tits jiggling slightly

"Aren't you coming, John?"

"I...I already took one honey."

"Can you at least scrub my back, baby?" she asked.

"Y..yes. Yes honey."

She walked into the large slate-covered shower stall and turned the water on as I watched. My mother, nude, soapy water cascading down her tits, her round ass. Her hands above her head in her hair, lifting her tits up, nipples dark and hard.

A Polaroid image of her popped into my mind.

A large man between her legs, his fat cock penetrating her as she watched, a look of pure pleasure on her face.

I shook my head and took a breath.

"John?"

She was holding a brush.

"My back, honey."

There was plenty of room for me to reach in for the scrub brush. My father made sure that the shower was big. It probably could hold four people comfortably, and most likely did at one point or another.

If the Polaroid camera had been waterproof, my father would have recorded that moment as well.

I ran the scrub brush along her back, soapy and wet.

"Mmm, that feels good."

I could see one hand was between her legs, fingers dipping in and out of her pussy.

I took another breath.

"Okay, all done. You finish up."

She turned off the water as I stepped to the bathroom door. I took a look back at the nude women standing there, just outside the shower.

She was gazing into the mirror.

"Dee, get a towel, and dry off."

"Hmm?"

"Get a towel from the rack and dry off."

She looked at me smiling, not moving.

"Can you do it Honey?" she asked.

I grabbed a large towel from the warmer and wrapped it around her. Rubbing the soft material over her body, I felt her tits, her shoulders, her firm round ass.

I knelt down and dried her legs and caught a glimpse of her pussy, her lips pink and wide.

Another image of a Polaroid picture popped into my mind.

My mother on her back, holding her pussy open for a young blond woman laying between her legs. The blonde has a finger in Dee's pussy.

"All dry." I announced.

"I'm so lucky." she said, leaning forward to kiss me on the lips.

I allowed it.

She kissed me again and her tongue snaked between my lips.

Ten months.

One day she cut her hair. It was now short, like it was when she was much younger.

"How do you like it John?" she asked, looking in the mirror.

"I love it Baby." I replied.

"I felt like it was time for a change." She said, hugging me, pressing her body into mine.

"I have the sauna heating up." she said stepping away toward the workout room

"You turned on the sauna?"

"Of course silly. I know how to turn the sauna on. It should be ready now. Let's go in."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea Dee."

"Don't be like that. I'm going in alone then." She said, heading to the steamed-up door.

The sauna wasn't huge, it was built for five or six. I could see that the rocks were fully heated, and steam had filled the space.

Dee dropped her robe outside and entered nude, sitting on the raised cedar wood bench. As I watched she picked up the dipper and ladled water on the rocks. Her nude body disappeared as the steam rose hissing from the rocks.

I started to disrobe.

Wearing my boxers, I entered and took a seat on the other side of the bench. I could just make out Dee near the dipper bucket.

"What are you doing over there?" She asked though the mist

"Just...stretching out a little." I replied.

She moved down the bench to get next to me, pressing her big boobs into my arm.

"Why are you wearing these? Take these off. Remember your rules. 'Clothing not allowed in the sauna'."

"I think I should wear them." I stammered. "I'm here to make sure you're OK here."

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable without them?" she asked, one hand rubbing my thigh. "It's going to get very hot in here."

She reached past me to engage the lighting system, dimming the overhead and bathing the sauna in soft purple "therapy lights".

Her tits brushed against me as she adjusted the brightness.

"Oooh, isn't that nice baby?" she said sitting back, sweat beading on her boobs, dripping off her nipples.

My cock was now hard, very evident even in my loose boxers.

Head spinning, I found myself wishing I had brought some water when I rushed into the sauna.

I leaned back, a little light headed and closed my eyes.

Music was playing now, a distant rhythm, the heat enveloping my body.

I felt a hand slip into my shorts, and soft fingers wrapped around my cock.

Opening my eyes I saw a hand pulling my cock out of my boxers. Dees hand.

The sensation of her fingers touching my cock was electric.

I allowed her to continue.

The word "allowed" is not accurate. Maybe it was the heat, but I suddenly had no choice, my body and primitive instinct overruled my mind. I felt detached from the moment, a spectator as the erotic event unfolded.

I started to speak, but was overwhelmed by the intensely arousing feeling of her hand stroking my hard-on.

Dee was sitting close to me, her hand now expertly masturbating my cock, one arm around me as we sat in the steam-filled sauna, tits pressed into my body.

She was staring at my thick cock, transfixed as she jerked me.

I breathed deeply, relaxed, my mind clear of every thought except the feeling of the firm hand on me.

Suddenly I was cumming, my cock jerking in her hand, my body spasming in waves.

"Oh, fuck. That's so good." I gasped

My dick spurted a few long ribbons of cum back onto my stomach.

Cum ran down her hand as she firmly squeezed the last few drops from my softening cock, still twitching as my orgasm faded.

She produced a small white towel, warm and moist, and began cleaning me up.

I realized that she had it ready, near the rocks.

"We used to do this all the time. I know you like this." she said, moving the warm towel over me.

The orgasm had been intense, and I was breathing deeply in the moist air.

"I did. I mean, I do like it." I replied, head back, looking into the purple mist.

Another Polaroid image.

Dee with a woman with very short hair. The woman is on her back and Dee is inserting a cock-shaped dildo into her pussy.

One night she came out to the living room with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"Dee, what are you doing?"

"We're having wine." she announced, pouring.

"I don't think that's a good idea." I said

"Don't be like that." she said, leaning over to hand me a glass, her robe opening to show me a glimpse of her big tits.

She put a hand on the side of head and kissed me, slipping her tongue into my mouth.

I let it happen.

I kissed her back.

Smiling, she went back to the couch and curled up, her robe open, and her boobs nearly spilling out. I tried not to look as she gazed out the window, but I knew she didn't mind.

She wanted me to look.

She put a leg up on the couch, exposing her pussy, I caught a flash of pink in her dark pubic hair.

One hand absentmindedly played in the dark fuzz as she looked out the window.

"Can you trim this for me, Honey?" She asked.

"Where?" I asked

"Here. My pussy. I can hardly see it."

"Your...pussy?"

"I don't know how it got so long. I know you like it shaved smooth."

"I don't think I can do that."

"But you used to, all the time. I don't want to do it myself. I always cut myself." She said.

"OK, yes, let's...trim you up." I stammered.

Dee dropped her robe as she entered the bathroom and sat on the toilet nude, spreading her legs.

She was looking at her cunt, running her fingers through the thick curly hair in wonder.

I picked up the sharp little scissors and knelt between her legs. Carefully I began snipping her pubes, letting the dark curls fall into the water.

Her lips were dark and full, the shroud hiding her clit was long and pronounced.

As I trimmed away the hair I began to see her pussy in detail, and I noticed she was getting wet, her clear juices pooling the folds.

"Mmm, I like this." she said, watching me snip away.

Every now and then my fingers brushed against her dewy lips and a little sound would escape her lips.

When it was short enough I picked up the shaving cream and put a dollop in my hand.

She watched me spread the thick foam over the short stubble and pick up the razor.

"This is my favorite part." she said.

I began shaving my mothers pussy.

Or was it? I hardly recognized the brunette in front of me.

She had lost weight, cut her hair. My mother was nearly a stranger to me before all this.

Now this person, this woman was...Dee.

From the box of pictures.

She had been calling me "John" for a long time now, seeing me as my long gone father. Perhaps believing I was him, maybe wishing that belief into reality for herself.

And as for my reality

We had been living together, just the two of us, for the better part of a year now. Our lives had begun to blur together, details fading, memories, some coming and some disappearing..

The woman in the photographs comes into focus, my mother fading from view.

A Polaroid image flashed into my head.

Dee on her back, locking eyes with a thin black man kneeling between her legs, the tip of his long cock just inside those lips.

Her cunt shaved smooth.

"All done." I announced.

Moving slowly and taking my time wasn't just to avoid nicking her with the blade.

I had thoroughly enjoyed the slow process of shaving her.

Her pussy, once revealed, was beautiful.

It was also very wet, dripping down her thigh, her lips glistening.

Her lovely pussy was now inches from me as she leaned back slightly on the toilet, nude.

One hand absentmindedly fondled a breast as she watched me wipe away the shaving cream.

"So smooth." She said, running her fingers over the freshly shaved areas.

I leaned forward to place a kiss on her smooth mound.

Then another.

I could smell her skin, feel the warmth of it.

I kissed the hood of her clit.

I extended my tongue, and began to gently lick the bud tucked under it.