Cuckolding My Father Ch. 09

I woke up the morning of the fifth day of my affair with my mother facing a bit of a dilemma. It was Saturday morning and that meant my father would be home. He'd be around until he hooked up with a few of his drinking buddies and headed off for his usual weekend of whoring and bar-hopping. Unfortunately, I had the day off, too. I was looking forward to my father's departure so Mother and I could spend some quality time alone, but knew it wouldn't take place until at least mid-afternoon if it was a typical Saturday for him. That meant I had more than a few hours to kill before Mother and I could do anything. At least that's what I thought. I slipped on some undershorts, jeans, and a T-shirt, then stepped into the pair of loafers I often wear around the house and headed for the kitchen.

Mother was, as usual, in the kitchen making breakfast, when I got up. She was wearing yet another of her loose fitting faded dresses and was standing at the stove. She looked over her shoulder at me and smiled. "Your daddy's dead to the world," she told me. "Probably will be for a while yet. He sounded and smelled like he was drinkin' afore he came home last night."

I walked over to her, put my arms around her waist, pulled her back against me, and kissed her on the neck. She wiggled her bottom against me and murmured softly. "We're gonna haveta be careful today, with your daddy around and all," she said.

"I know," I said. "Hopefully he won't hang around too long."

Mother was making sausages and pancakes, a typical Saturday morning breakfast. She put the sausages in a bowl and had the pancakes in a pan in the oven to stay warm. I picked up the bowl of sausage and carried it to the table. She used a hot pad to bring the pan holding the pancakes to the table and we sat down to eat. "You got anythin' you gotta do today?" she asked me.

"I've been thinking about partitioning off a corner of the barn for a workshop," I told her.

Mother looked puzzled. "A workshop?" she asked. "What do you need a workshop for?"

"When I was at college, I learned a little bit about wood carving," I said. "I'm not sure I'm all that good at it, but it relaxes me."

"Don't that beat all," she responded, grinning and shaking her head.

"Don't what beat all?" I asked.

"My grandpappy was considered to be some shakes of a woodcarver back in the hills where we lived," she said. "If you like it, must be in your blood, huh?"

"Could be," I said. "Seems to me I got a whole lot more traits from your side of the family than from my father's side."

"Seems that way, don't it?" Mother replied, smiling. "I kinda like that it's that way."

I grinned at her and said, "Me, too." I would never want to be anything like my father.

We finished our breakfast and I was washing the dishes when my father shuffled into the kitchen, announcing his arrival with a loud burp. He had on a pair of boxer shorts and a sleeveless undershirt and nothing else. The shirt was hard put to cover potbelly and that left a hairy section of abdomen exposed. His thinning and graying brown hair looked as if he'd combed it with a blender, his eyes were bloodshot, and he desperately needed a shave. Looking at him, it pained me that Mother had to be alone in the same room with him, even if she didn't have to share a bed with him. He walked unsteadily to the table and dropped into a chair. "Need some breakfast," he growled at my mother. She who walked to the stove, took out the sausage and pancakes she'd left warming in the oven, and put them on the table. Then she went back to the counter, poured him a cup of coffee, and put that on the table in front of him, too.

I'd stopped washing dishes when he came into the room and was watching him. He peered at me through bloodshot eyes and shook his head. "Damn, boy, whatchoo doin' goddamn women's work for?" he grumbled. He jerked his head in Mother's direction. "No reason she can't do that."

Anger surged through me. What an incredible jerk he was! "Maybe I think it's nice to help with the work around the house once in a while," I said. "Unlike some people." I made no attempt to conceal both my anger and my contempt for him. My father has never been particularly perceptive, but he picked up on how I felt. I could see his face redden.

"Man ain't supposed to haveta do that shit," he retorted. "It's why we got them..." He jerked his head in Mother's direction again. "Women're supposeta take care a the house and have kids, that's what they're for." He looked at mother, snorted, and shook his head. "'Course some women are only good for half of what they're supposeta be good for."

I saw red. It took every bit of self-control I could muster to not run across the kitchen, grab him, and beat him within an inch of his life. He was lucky I'd already washed the cast iron skillet and Mother had put it away. I glanced at Mother and saw that her face was red.

"From the smell of you," I said, "you came home drunk last night."

He glowered at me. "Yeah, so?" he retorted.

"You drive like that?"

"What if I did?"

"You ever do it again and I see you, you're going to jail," I said.

What was happening between my father and me had nothing to do with whether he broke the law by driving drunk or not. It was a power struggle, the young buck challenging the old one for primacy, for the right to the doe. That was my motivation and I think that thick as he was, my father did understand that his position as head of the household was being challenged. He didn't like that, not one bit.

"You fucking little prick," my father yelled. "You think you can arrest me, you little cock-sucker?"

I smiled at him. It wasn't a smile of pleasure; it was a smile of assurance. "There isn't even a question," I said. I dried my hands on the dishtowel and walked over to the table. When I got close to him, the foul smell of sweat, second hand cigarette smoke, and stale booze filled my nostrils. He looked up at me, his wide eyes showing more than a little fear. I think at that point he believed I was going to do him harm. "Another thing," I said, making my voice cold and hard. "If you ever use that kind of language in this house, in front of my mother again, or if you ever talk about her as disrespectfully as you did this morning, you will be sorry you did until the day you die. Do you understand me?"

My father continued to stare up at me, his bleary eyes wide and full of fear. He's had pale skin as long as I can remember - working in the mines will do that to you - but he paled even more. I was using intimidation tactics I'd learned in the police academy and they were working very well. My father looked about cowed as anyone I'd ever seen.

"Do you understand me?" I said again, louder and more forcefully.

He finally broke his eyes away from mine, looked down at his plate, and picked up his fork. I could see his hand trembling.

"Tell me you understand what I told you," I said.

"I heard you," he grumbled, without looking up.

"You damn well better remember it," I said. "Because I won't warn you again." I went back to the sink and finished washing and drying the dishes. After I put the last one away, I headed back for my room to get my tape measure and a notepad to write on before I headed out to the barn.

My father was still sitting at the table when I walked through the kitchen to go out the back door. He'd eaten nothing, but his coffee cup was empty. He stared into the cup when I walked by. "This ain't over," he said softly just as I opened the door.

I turned and gave him another cold smile. "Any time," I said.

The minute the door closed behind me, I began to have second thoughts. Should I have done what I did? I'd forced my father to back down, and in front of my mother. As far as I knew, my father never backed down for anyone. I was pretty sure his ego wouldn't allow him to let me take control as easily as it seemed I had. The only question I had was what he'd do if he did decide to retaliate. I fervently hoped he wouldn't wind up turning his wrath on my mother. If I'd done anything to cause her to get hurt, or to make her situation worse, I'd never be able to live with myself.

I walked into the barn, which wasn't really all that big, and looked around. One of the back corners didn't have too much junk piled up in it, the roof over it looked solid, and hardly any daylight showed between the barn boards on the wall. There was one small window on the rear of the barn in that area and another on the side wall. It might work. I made my way through the rusted, broken equipment my father had stashed in the barn over the years until I got to the spot I'd been looking at. The junk hadn't piled up against the wall yet, so I was able to take measurements. It looked as if I could make myself a nice little shop, maybe ten by ten or even twelve by twelve. While I was taking the measurements, I heard the house door slam, then the sound of my father's truck starting. After that I heard the sound of him driving off. It wasn't hard to figure out he was angry. I heard his spinning truck wheels spraying gravel as he went.

Not long after my father's angry departure, Mother appeared in the doorway of the barn. "You in here, J.J.?" she called.

"Back here."

She carefully made her way to the part of the barn where I was standing and looked around. "You think he'll let you do this?" she asked.

"I wasn't planning on asking him," I said. "I'll be improving his building. Don't see where he should have a problem with that."

"Maybe," she said. "What are you plannin' to do?"

I hadn't completely decided what I wanted to do, but I had a rough idea. I explained what I had in mind to my mother. "What do you think?" I asked when I finished. I'd been looking around as I spoke and when I turned and looked at Mother, I noticed she was gazing at me with an odd look in her eyes. "What's up?" I asked. "Why the funny look?"

"What were you tryin' to do this morning?" she asked softly.

"You mean with him?"

She nodded.

"He made me angry...especially the way he talked to you," I said.

"You shamed him," she said. "You shamed him in his own home, in front of me. I don't think he'll let that stand." She walked over to me, put her arms around me, and hugged me tightly. I could feel her shaking. "I don't think he can let it stand. He's gonna haveta try to get his pride back."

"He can't do it," I said. "He doesn't know it, but he didn't have any pride to start with."

"Don't matter," Mother said. "He won't be able to live with himself if he lets you get away with what you done this morning."

"There's nothing he can do," I said.

Mother continued to keep her arms locked around me and tremble. I could feel dampness against my chest and realized she was crying.

I caressed her hair. "You don't think he'll hurt you, do you?" I asked.

Mother didn't say anything, but she did nod her head.

"I'll never let him hurt you," I told her.

She leaned back, sniffled a little, blew her nose with a tissue she carried in her dress pocket, and gazed into my eyes for a second. "That...what you did to your daddy...it was about me, wasn't it?" she asked.

She was dead right. I had a feeling she understood what I was doing when I saw the look on her face while it was happening.

"I didn't like the way he was acting," I protested, knowing I didn't believe that any more than she did.

A sparkle had appeared in her eyes. "You purposely shamed him in front of me," she insisted. "Didn't you?"

I was caught and I knew it. I nodded. "Don't ever try telling me you aren't smart," I said, hugging her.

She leaned back in my arms again. She blushing a little and there was something else in her eyes now. "You don't have to prove how much of a man you are to me," she said. "I already know you're more man than he ever could be."

I'm not sure who made the first move, but then we were kissing. Our kisses were fierce, almost animal-like. I was clutching at Mother's body and she was clutching at mine. Our tongues lashed each other and we were pressing our mouths together so hard I was afraid I'd bruise Mother's lips - or that she might bruise mine. And at the same time we were making sounds that were almost animalistic.

I vaguely recall unbuttoning the buttons on Mother's dress. The next thing I recall is having one of her huge nipples in my mouth and sucking on it while she clutched my head. I could hear the sounds she was making much more clearly. "J.J.! Oh, Lord, J.J.! Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord!" I suckled one nipple, then the other, while continuing to unbutton the dress. When I had it open, I parted it and reached between her legs, I was a bit surprised to discover she wasn't wearing any panties. I wasn't surprised to find that her vagina was soaked with her slippery juices.

We were grabbing at each other, rubbing our bodies against each other, feverishly seeking release. Both of us were making feral noises, whimpering, gasping, and groaning while we pawed at each other's bodies. I'm not exactly sure how my jeans got opened, but I heard the sound of my groaning when Mother's hand wrapped around my erection and she began to stroke it.

I had two fingers sliding in and out of Mother's vagina and was caressing her clit with my thumb. She was as wet as I'd ever felt her. She was groaning and kissing my neck and shoulders and ears so fiercely it almost felt as if she was trying to gobble me up. I was probably kissing her body just as frantically. I knew I we could bring each other off by hand, but I didn't want that. I wanted to be inside Mother, feeling her come, coming in her. The problem was there weren't any flat spaces, clean or dirty, in the barn and I certainly couldn't throw her down on the filthy floor.

We were moving around a little, in a kind of dance of desire, and in doing so, I bumped into one of the big beams that helped support the barn's roof and hayloft. It had to be twelve inches by twelve inches or more. That, and the fact that Mother and I weren't too different in height, gave me an idea. I turned her around and guided her until her back was against the beam. Once she was in that position, I got my leg between hers and managed to get her to spread her feet apart. Then I moved forward and, after a little fumbling, I managed to get my steel-hard penis into her.

Mother had both arms around my neck, hanging on to me. "Oh, Lord, J.J.!" she groaned as I shoved myself up into her. "I didn't know...you could...do...this...standin' up! Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord!"

I clutched her bottom in my hands as I lunged into her. She was hugging my neck so tightly it lifted her a little off the floor, which actually made it easier for me to plunge into her. I hoped the dress, which she still had on even though it was totally open down the front, would keep the beam from scratching her.

We were so aroused that neither of us was able to hold back for long, nor did we want to. My Mother's moans grew louder and more impassioned and the movement of her body became more and more heated. It's hard to describe how wild it felt to have her bottom in my hands and feel the muscles in it contracting and releasing more and more rapidly as her orgasm neared.

We both achieved orgasm at the same time and when we did, our gasps, moans, and cries of delight filled the barn. My erupting juices felt scalding hot as they jetted from me, into Mother, and her bottom was rocking so hard and fast and her body was jolting against mine so hard it was hard to believe we were leaning against the big beam. It felt the way I've always thought it would feel to be in an earthquake, I guess.

The only thing about making love that isn't all that great is that it has to end. And maybe I should say I've only been thinking like that since my affair with Mother started. If there was some way I could manage to share a constant orgasm with her I probably would. I know that sounds silly; we'd have to stop to eat and do other things, but it's fun to dream, isn't it? Anyhow, after our passion exploded, we did begin to calm down and were soon leaning against the beam, gasping for breath, clinging to each other.

"My...Lord...J.J." Mother panted. "Wha...what...what happened?"

"I...think we...um...made love," I panted back. I'd gotten enough strength back to stand up again. And my senses had returned enough to allow me to realize that my T-shirt was pushed up to my armpits and my softening penis was dangling from the open fly of my jeans. I had to look ridiculous. Mother, on the other hand, looked incredible. She was still leaning against the beam, her dress spread, her lovely body bared. The juices of our loving glistened on her middle and upper thighs. I wanted to drop to my knees and lick her clean, but wasn't sure she'd let me.

Mother reached out and caressed my face with her fingers. "You make me crazy when you kiss me," she said softly.

"Yeah, and you do the same thing to me," I said.

"We shouldn't 'a done this in here," Mother noted. "'What if your daddy had come back and come in here lookin' for you?"

I have to admit I hadn't thought about that. Actually, I hadn't thought about much more than my need to possess Mother's body once we started kissing, but she was right. As wrapped up as we were in our lust for each other, a brass band could have probably marched into the barn drums beating and trumpets blaring and we wouldn't have noticed it.

"Yeah, I guess we could have been more careful," I said. I grinned at her, leaned forward, and kissed her gently on the forehead. "I'm not sorry we did what we did, though," I continued, tracing a finger around one nipple that was still partially erect. "That was so wild."

Mother shuddered and nodded. "I know it was," she said. "It was wild for me, too. But havin' your daddy catch us could cause all kinds of problems."

I pulled her into my arms, hugged her, and kissed her hair. "I know," I said. "I don't want anything to mess up what we have."

"Me, either," Mother murmured into my chest. "Now that you taught me about makin' love, I don't never want to stop."

"Me, either," I told her. "I'm not going to stop making love to you. Not ever."

"I...I need to go in the house and get cleaned up," Mother said after I'd held her for a little while. She backed out of my arms and buttoned her dress. She seemed embarrassed that I watched her do it.

I managed to get my clothes back in a semblance of order, too, and decided cleaning up wouldn't be such a bad thing for me to do, either. "I have dibs on the bathroom after you're finished," I told her.

We made our way carefully out of the barn and walked to the house, holding hands. Even if my father were to show up and see us doing that, he wouldn't think anything was amiss. He didn't like the fact that Mother and I were touchy with each other - he thought it made me a "sissy" - but he'd long since stopped carping about it.

In the house, Mother went into the bathroom and shut the door. I headed for my room and sat down at my computer to check my e-mail.