A Lifetime Kink Ch. 01

Stevie let the door close to, stealthily returning to the spare room, to hide and to recover rather than to return to her chores. Her breath suddenly ragged, one hand came up to cover her quivering lips. All alert systems were go. She had caught herself being oh so terrible, exploiting her own flesh and blood in her mind; the fruit of her loins deliciously debased in mind.

Fighting to control her breath, Stevie recalled the techniques her therapist taught her, and closed her eyes to fight off the intense thoughts and feelings swirling within and without. So stiff and sensitive had she become in response to her sleeping son's state that if she were to take one more step, she'd have orgasmed there and then.

She fought the feeling and she fought the forbidden pictures still playing over and over in her head, for what felt like forever. A faint cough followed by a deep gasp, coming from that bedroom, it almost proved too much to take.

Ten minutes passed and he hadn't moved another inch...

'Hey baby,' she greeted hastily, eyes forward, heading for the chest of drawers opposite Lee's bed. Stevie didn't acknowledge that she had very likely barged in on him masturbating that big stiff thing; something made all too obvious by his comical struggle to grab a handful of bed sheet the moment her voice registered.

'Just some fresh laundry,' she said, her voice carrying back from the faded roller-painted blue wall she now faced. 'Doing anything nice today?'

'I was doing it?' came the sleepy reply.

She smirked, almost snorted, but inside she felt guilty for it. And that reminded her of the problem at hand. 'Can we have that talk later today?' Stevie asked a little distantly.

6

Mortified was the word. She almost scolded herself for asking, but it had to happen, and sooner rather than later. Still, how would she begin? How would she even say it in the end? The feeling of sobriety cut like the blade of a rusted saw, rough and dirty in contrast against the brilliant blue of the afternoon sky.

They were indoors. She wouldn't have dreamed of going somewhere public to say what she had to. There wasn't a room in the house that seemed suitable for this talk though. It would somehow taint even the sunlight in the air, so she imagined.

Soon enough she was trembling and wringing her fingers, and asking her good son to bring her the brandy bottle and a glass to help calm the nerves.

'Have one yourself. You might need it,' was her advice, as if, 'you'll need to sit down,' wasn't ominous enough.

'You're not dying are you?' he asked incredulously. She supposed that she might, but no, for the foreseeable future she was destined to live with herself. Still she entertained a humourless laugh. 'Did you get knocked up?'

Stevie fixed him with a hard stare. It impacted, like a psychic trick. But this was hard enough as it was. In any other situation she might have appreciated the humour - not now!

She drank back a double of the fine French stuff, feeling the sweet fiery liquid trickle down her throat, warming her all the way. And then she braced herself and looked him in the eyes. But it did not last, that honest bond. She didn't have the guts just yet, but soon the words came flowing.

'There's some things I just can't tell a therapist, so I've come to understand. But if anything I've learned that these things need investigating at the root of the issue. That's why I need to tell you, but I'm afraid of what you'll think of me,' Stevie pushed. 'I can't make you promise me anything, but will you just try to hear to the end?'

'Yeah,' Lee said, and it was as though the voice of his younger self had come through. Innocently he waited.

'I used to love a smoke. Not cigarettes.'

'Is that it? You used to smoke weed?'

'Oh no,' she uttered a chuckle; 'That is not it at all. I'm just saying it might have helped...'

He hesitated. 'I could roll one.'

Stevie shook her head slowly, smiling tiredly. She had smoked plenty of the stuff in her wilder days, but right now it would only confuse her and jumble her words.

'When I met your dad, it wasn't love at first sight. It was a crazy, anarchy-fuelled "us against the world" kind of thing. We were a couple of young rebels. We liked a drink and a smoke, and we loved our music hard, as you know,' she began steadily.

'We liked a lot of things hardcore...

Lee tried not to smirk.

'But your dad, your real dad - Gary - long before you came along, he and I had our kinks that were particularly hardcore. I shared everything with him pretty unconditionally and I loved virtually every moment. We were pretty fucking twisted as it happens. We weren't living to get old...'

'What happened?' Lee asked. He thought already that he was on the scent, his mother's faithful pup. Maybe, she supposed, she was skirting the context.

'We had to grow up. We became responsible and retired to boring, depressing old reality. And reality was what killed your dad in the end. I've told you he died of an overdose. It was an accident. He never meant to leave us. But towards the end Gary couldn't live without seeking his thrills, which he did chemically. But that's not what I'm trying to say.'

'Your dad and I had a fetish, you might say,' Stevie began to say, and stopped to pour another brandy. Down it went and she poured another. Lee's silence was now palpable, as was the stillness about his rigid body.

'There's nothing wrong with that,' Lee already tried to reason, and because maybe he felt she shouldn't have had to explain after all.

'No, there is. A lot has changed since - things people no longer frown upon - but "THAT" hasn't changed,' she argued. 'It didn't matter that it was wrong, though. That was the thrill. Do you understand?' she searched.

Lee made the connection easily. Still, he never would have thought, not in a million years, that he and his mother would be having this talk. 'Are you talking about the kind of stuff that you and Ray were into?'

Stevie tried to nod through the sudden cringe. How dare she forget just how much they had subjected her son to over the years? She was not grateful for the reminder. In the resulting silence, she baited her breath and braced herself to say that one word, fearing what would become the moment it was out there.

Stevie inhaled deeply and then carefully said that one word.

'Incest!'

She burned with shame. Lee, on the other hand, was just too dumbstruck hearing his mother say that word to telegraph a response. 'I knew that you and Ray role-played that stuff a lot,' he finally initiated. Stevie sat there stunned by his display of open-mindedness. 'People do that. A lot of people seem to,' he emphasised.

'When your dad died, you were only three. Long before then I'd backed out to a safe distance,' Stevie proceeded wearily. 'You might say that you were my religion, and my obsession was my sin. It terrified me at times. I felt like I was trying to protect you from something perverse. My own mother's catholic guilt used to be no different. But when Gary died I pushed it all down in my depression.'

And then Stevie began to sob. Unexpectedly Lee reached out to grab her hand. He gently squeezed it, despite the conversation's lurid direction. 'Mum, surely you know that things are different now...'

'When I met Ray, he brought it all back out. These... daydreams I had... started to fill me with guilt and remorse again. I wondered at times if I was some kind of dangerous offender just waiting to happen.'

'You're definitely no sex offender, mum,' Lee intervened and then scoffed at hearing himself say that. How much more surreal could this day get? 'Well,' his cheeky sense of humour teased, 'you haven't had any complaints at least!'

Was she now laughing, or was she still crying? The harsh gasp from her trembling lips didn't seem to imply offence, otherwise she'd have batted him around the head to let him know. And no matter how Stevie tried to smile to signify that she was earnestly trying to laugh, the crying would not stop.

Lee waited; let his mother wipe the tears from her eyes until it came. 'This wasn't just some phase. I had to accept that. This was who and what I was and the fact that I gave into it so easily made me wonder about myself, and Ray. I never hurt anybody, but I came close...'

Everybody had their own "thing" though. Lee knew that.

He was a good judge of character, and knew the difference between right and wrong. If nobody was injured or directly negatively impacted, as everybody said these days, then it wasn't wrong. So who was it that his mother had come close to "hurting"?

7

The day had darkened considerably. Out of nowhere came leaden clouds threatening rain and it wasn't long before it came. At that time Stevie's son thought it best to put away the brandy and make coffee, leaving his mother sitting in the conservatory, peering into the deepening greens of the back garden's private paradise.

She hadn't felt so cold and stone-heavy in a long time, not even the day Ray announced his departure from their marriage. She was telling her son about things no ordinary well-adjusted parents would ever share with their kids, and it left her feeling like a palpitating lump of hot, worthless flesh.

'Here you go, mum,' Lee whispered from her side. Where did he come from? She was so lost in the thrumming between her ears that she hadn't heard him coming back. Again he surprised her with a gentle kiss on the cheek, which seemed out of place considering the questions their shared revelation posed.

And really, Stevie was adamant that she did not deserve his kindness, his understanding, or anything so good. The rain was at a steady patter, quiet enough on the glass roof that she wouldn't have to summon the courage to raise her voice so loud.

'Ray wanted me to have sex with you.'

And then for so long, that steady patter was the only sound in the world. Now it was his heart in his throat as he tried to fit that sentence somewhere within reality's twisted designs but all he found was panic.

His expression suddenly slack and with eyes wide open; 'What?'

'I'm sorry, it's true.' That's all she had. And that was the end of that, at least for the meantime.

She had attempted to apologise again later, maybe in the hopes that she could say more, but found that she didn't want to talk about Ray, let alone to make excuses for herself. In an awkward retreat Stevie called herself a monster.

Despite her best intentions to bring her confession to a close it had gone horribly awry. Stevie had wanted to tell him that Ray's fantasy, to have her seduce her own flesh and blood, was the greater reason their marriage quickly collapsed. She wanted to put it all on him, and that would have been the easiest way out, but no...

'I am a monster,' she insisted when Lee even tried to defend her honour. After all she hadn't done anything wrong. 'I'm glad he's gone and not coming back, but that doesn't excuse my behaviour.'

'Maybe you should talk to the therapist about it,' Lee suggested, because there was no other solution that he could see. His mother certainly wouldn't listen to anything else he had to say.

That mortified her more than anything. 'No, never - I'm not being put on some pervert list or sent away.'

'You don't know that'll happen,' Lee argued, but she wouldn't hear it. Finally he relented, and then resolved to understand the stress of her position; especially since she had confessed all of this to him. 'No, okay nobody has to know,' he relented. 'You're safe with me!'

Stevie's panic wore off eventually, and with that she sighed a breath of relief and thanked him. Imagine though, she thought, what life would become if those that knew the family would discover these things about her?

That made her realise the weight she had placed on Lee's shoulders, and that was not fair. 'Well handled yet again, Stevie,' she whispered in the bathroom mirror after washing the ruined mascara from her eyes.

8

'I'm so fucking done with Dave!'

Lee read the message over and over again. Kit, the tattooed alt girl from TK Maxx, was making it obvious the past year that - if things were somehow different - she'd fuck him in an instant.

But Kit, who was also not his type in any way other than physically, was more than a handful in ways that Lee was not prepared for. Emotional dependency sprung to mind, which was not an attribute that applied to relationship goals, even if he wanted one.

And Dave...

Lee was never a fan of Dave, and didn't want into his business. Dave was a strange one - the type of lad who saw himself as twenty-years older and about a hundred pounds brawnier than he was. Dave liked to play dress up and to pose as a biker, though he caught the bus to work.

'What's up?' he replied, hoping that this would be short. Sopranos wouldn't watch itself!

'I swear he's fucking somebody else,' Kit replied immediately. 'I've had nothing the past two weeks and all I see is him flirting with that slut Stephanie Weathers.'

'Have you asked?'

'No, why would I ask?'

Because you think he's cheating!'

'Omg I couldn't deal with it if it was true.'

'So you're just going to pretend?' Lee pushed. 'Leave him then.'

What did he care?

'And then what?'

'Go get laid?'

'Oh yeah, with who,' she asked, and on the end of that, dropped a winking emoji.

To be continued...