A Most Observant Son

Mom motioned for me to go down the stairs and after I went down she followed. I closed up the hatch after she made it back down, and she asked me to join her in the kitchen. I stopped at the sink and drank a number of glasses of water before joining Mom at the table.

"I guess you were up there for a while," Mom suggested, and I nodded. "Spying on us."

"I didn't know," I said. "I just went up to watch - watch you get dressed."

"You watch me get dressed? How long has this been going on?" she asked, the anger in her eyes leaving, and what replaced the fury was either sadness or shame.

"A while," I admitted.

"You realize that what you were doing was sick," she added.

"I know. I don't have any girlfriends and probably never will," I said while trying not to cry. "You're so beautiful that one day I happened to be up there when you were downstairs and I noticed you could see down into the bedrooms through the vents."

"The bedrooms?" Mom asked, accentuating the plural part of the word. "Your sister too?"

I shrugged, seeing no point in lying.

"Dear lord in heaven," Mom said, her voice shaking as much as her hands.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Sorry you spied on your family or sorry you got caught at it?"

"Both," I said honestly.

"Look Sean," Mom said, her voice calmer. "I know you don't understand what you saw. I don't even understand."

"How long have you and Gramps..."

"A while," mom admitted. "It just sort of happened. Your father - let's just say that while we love each other, it isn't the same. Not that it matters, but he has his own things - but he's not stupid enough to get caught at it, I guess."

"Dad?" I said, not figuring him to be involved with anyone but Mom, but then again, what did I really know about anything?

"That doesn't matter, but what does matter is this," Mom said. "It's all in your hands. If you want to, you have the power to destroy this family, or what's left of it. I can't stop you. All I can ask you is to think about it first. Think of your father, your sister and your grandmother too."

"I won't say anything - to anybody," I said in a vow that I kept until this very moment, now that I'm the only one left alive.

"Like I said, I don't expect you to understand, or forgive me," Mom said, patting me on the arm and kissing my forehead. "Please don't judge me by what you saw or heard. Your grandfather either. I love him dearly. If it wasn't for him I wouldn't - let's just leave it at that. Please try and forget what you might have seen."

"I'll try," I said, but not only was that not going to be possible, I wasn't sure if I wanted to forget.

"I promise you that it will never happen here again," Mom said, looking at me with shame in her eyes as I caught on to her saying that she wouldn't be doing anything with Grandpa again HERE. " Up there, can you see - I mean, are you able to see the whole room?"

"Just about," I admitted.

"Hear," Mom choked as she spoke. "Can you hear too?"

I didn't want to answer but I probably didn't have to, because I could tell by the look on her face that Mom was thinking about everything Grandpa and her had said and the language that they used, so I just shrugged and nodded.

Mom slowly left the room, getting in the car and doing the shopping she had spoken about much earlier. Now that the raging storm had ended, the sun was coming out again and with it would come the humidity.

I went to take a shower, but first I stopped and ducked into the bedroom where so much had just happened. It smelled like the powder that Grandpa had used on Mom, and the only thing that smelled like sex in the room was me.

After I undressed, I looked at my dick, which was rubbed raw and felt like it looked. How many orgasms had I managed up there while I watched? More than what should have been humanly possible, I knew that much. I gingerly touched my dick, which looked even smaller than usual to me after what I had just seen.

Grandpa. I don't know if Mom ever told him about me spying on them. I kind of doubt it, because he treated me the same as he always did. I was never able to look at him the same though, because all I could think of when I looked at him was that swinging around inside of those baggy old man pants was the biggest cock I had ever seen.

Mom. I tried to treat her like I always had, never stopped loving her and still think she was one of the most erotic women I've ever seen. The other stuff - what I saw and heard with Grandpa - and who knows what that part about a garbage man was all about? Was she a secret slut who took on all comers for rough sex without the old man ever knowing about it, or was her only affair the one with my father's father? I never found out and didn't even try to learn any more. I didn't want to know.

I never went back up to spy on Mom again, although I did go up and pick up the evidence of my being up there, mainly the handkerchief that was frozen into a bizarre shape by the copious amount of semen it had absorbed that day. There was really no point in my continuing my voyeuristic activities in my house because after all, I had seen and heard just about everything there was to see. Maybe too much.

They're all gone now, except for me, so telling this story now hurts no one

***

I guess I still don't understand what brought them together. How could a gentle old man become a raging and dominating animal behind the bedroom door? That didn't make any more sense than seeing a woman who went to church every week and never uttered an dirty word that I ever heard outside of that afternoon, become a submissive sex toy for her husband's father.

Then again, here I am writing about my family's dirty laundry and admitting my various perversions and fetishes on a erotic fiction website, so who am I to judge?

Oh, and one more thing. When later that year I managed to actually get a girlfriend, and during Christmas break brought her home to meet the family, I ended up sneaking her out of the guest room she had been assigned to my my old man, and into my room late in the evening.

As the girl, my future ex-wife, knelt in front of me by my bedside and dropped my jeans so she could suck my cock, I happened to tip my head back as I enjoyed her oral talents and glanced at the vent in the ceiling.

It was probably my imagination, but for a second I could have sworn I saw a pair of eyes looking down at us through the vent. The old house did make a lot of creaking noises too, even if nobody was upstairs, so like I said, it was more than likely nothing but my mind playing tricks on me. I'm almost sure of it.

****

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