Diary of A Suppressed Housewife

Diary of a Suppressed Housewife

Just so everyone knows my name is Stanley Braun. In German that means brown, though I'm not sure how that relates since most of my family has sandy blonde hair. I grew up in a very conservative area of Indiana where the German communities are pretty much the normal thing.

I can remember when we would visit my grandparents on my mother's side as a child. Every night before bed my grandfather would sit and read from the bible on the sinfulness and wickedness of the world; and the punishments of places like Sodom and Gomorrah.

By the time I entered college I began to realize my view of God was a lot different from my grandparents. I saw him more as benevolent and allowing free will; while they saw him as demanding and vengeful. For me it was like living two lives; one away from my family, and one around them.

What I never knew until this summer, was there a very familiar conflict elsewhere in my house. When I discovered it, it made me think of a lecture in English literature I had from a very good professor; she had explained the difference between repressed and suppressed.

As she explained, repressed were thoughts we didn't know we had, but created anxiety and conflict in us; while suppressed were thoughts we were well aware of; and had to keep in tight check. Of course it didn't hurt she explained it while I plowed her fifty year old dripping pussy doggy style.

I've always had a thing for older women; what can I say. I find girls my age of twenty to be whining, needy, and either bubble heads or bitches; in my humble opinion. Now a woman over forty, knows her body and what she likes; she'll tell you what she likes without reservation or judgment; and when you treat her right she knows how to show her appreciation.

Jean Paxton was that kind of woman. Forty-three, a mother of two; she never once altered my grades for any reason I didn't earn. But if I ate her pussy right; she could suck the very cum right out of my balls. Fair is fair right?

That summer, classes had ended Memorial Day weekend; I had headed home between my sophomore and junior year; where else was I going I was a poor college kid. The first couple of weeks weren't bad, I caught up with all my friends; hung out with family; all the usual stuff. But by June it was starting to get to me.

I swore if grandpa or dad gave me one more of their "the evils of youth" sermons; I was going to scream. Oh, I should have told you; both of them are preachers. No not ministers, the fire and brimstone kind of preacher you see in a revival tent. They ran the largest church in town together; and it was grandpa's intent dad would take over when he retired...or died.

But by June my brain was melting, and I needed to get out of the house. Dad was visiting some folks from the church; I knew mom was around, so I went hunting for her to ask if I could borrow the car.

She wasn't in the kitchen or cleaning, so I headed upstairs. No, I didn't find her standing naked in her bedroom; but she was in her bedroom. She was sitting at her vanity and it looked like she was writing.

"Hey mom" I called out.

She gave a squeak; flipped the book closed and jammed it into a small drawer on the vanity. Hell, I never saw her move so fast. I asked about using the car; she stuttered out that was all right; and I couldn't help but notice her flushed face and neck.

I headed down and grabbed the keys in the kitchen and headed for the car. The entire time I wondered what was in that book that had so startled mom. Of course, hiding it in her vanity was the perfect place. That was woman's things, according to dad; and he was very rigid about you never crossed 'man's things and woman's things'. There was no way on earth he would ever go near that vanity, I thought.

Later that night, as my parents were watching television, and I was in my room playing video games; the memory of that book came back. I was too curious for my own good. I slipped down the hall and into their room. It only took a moment to find it in a drawer of her vanity. I reached down to pick it up and froze. I had just caught sight of a thread mom had lain across the brown binding.

Sneaky, I thought. It was so important to her to know if someone disturbed it she had put one of the oldest, but most effective, tripwires in place. I pulled out my cell phone and snapped a quick picture; that would allow me to replace the book and thread in exactly the same locations.

Holding the book I made fast tracks back to my room. I didn't want to take a lot of time, the last thing I wanted was mom to know I had been snooping in her stuff; privacy was highly valued around this house.

It only took a few pages to realize what I was holding; it was a diary of sorts. It wasn't the normal kind of diary about acts and deed; but more a journal of feelings and thoughts. Mom was using the diary to sort through feelings she was tormented by.

It started a little over a year ago, in the early summer. It was quickly evident mom was having sexual feelings and she had no idea what to do with them or how to cope with them. I made it through about a dozen entries, before I hurried back; and using the cell phone picture replaced the journal.

Back in my room I sat in front of my computer, and thought about what I had read. On one hand it came as a total shock the things mom was writing. She had spoken of pangs in her chest, butterflies in her stomach when 'he' was around. She had even spoken of moistness and physical excitement when he was near her. None of that matched the image of my mother in my brain. This was a woman who was the daughter of a preacher; wife of a preacher. She never said a foul word in her life, even when angry. I didn't think she was capable of an impure thought; but apparently I was wrong.

Which is strange because she was still a woman; and a very vibrant one at that? Look, I'm a twenty year old, modern college aged male. Half my world revolves around sex and porn; so bear with me. Do a quick Google search of a Nina Elle; and what you'll find is a forty year old German porn star that looks a hell of a lot like mom.

Mom doesn't have the 34DD's; but I would guess at least 34C or 34D. She's a bit heavier at about a hundred and twenty pounds; but she holds it damned well. Let's just say she was high on the list of masturbation fuel for a perverted son.

I always thought it was a shame God gave that body to a sexual ultra conservative. By the time I reached half way through her journal a week later; it was beginning to dawn on me she wasn't as conservative as I thought.

The biggest shock came when she confessed she had masturbated over 'him' last winter. Apparently he hadn't been around for a while; and that absence had driven her to do something she considered a mortal sin.

For three entries afterwards she had berated herself; and then...she did it again; and again; and again. The way her journal read she spent half the winter spread out on her bed; her fingers knuckle deep in her soaked pussy. Just the mental image of that made me rock hard.

The most frustrating part was that I was almost three quarters of the way through her journal; and I still didn't know who this guy was my mother was pining for. Was it a neighbor? Some guy in town? Someone from the church? She never used a name; only him or his and words like that.

But then she didn't need to name him; she KNEW who he was. It just drove me crazy wondering who had the body and presence to crack through her conservative concrete wall and make her drip like a faucet. And then I found the entry that tipped the scale.

When she talked about how "he" had returned from school; how 'he' was now around her so much it was driving her body insane; I finally got the picture. I slowly closed the journal and stared at my reflection on the computer screen.

"Holy shit" I whispered to myself.

OK, I thought. Time to test the theory, I thought; and as my professors would tell me, without test data you have no true conclusion. I stripped off my shirt and tossed it on the bed. Bare from the waist up, I headed downstairs and to the kitchen.

Mom had passed on Wednesday bible study with dad; saying she was a bit under the weather. I know it sounds cliché but I figured a warm cup of tea was a great opener.

Mom was sitting wrapped under a quilt on the corner of the couch when I walked in the living room. I sat just at the edge of her feet and offered her the cup.

"Oh thank you honey" mom said as she turned towards me.

Her eyes widened as her gaze locked to my bare chest. She held the mug between both hands that never moved. I literally watched a crimson shade race from her cheeks and down her neck as she stared at me.

"Where's...your shirt?" she asked in a low voice.

"Sorry I was a bit warm" I told her. "Does it bother you?" I watched as her eyes traveled up and down my chest

"Yes" mom whispered as she continued to stare.

"Should I go put a shirt on?" I pressed her.

"No" she stopped me from rising off the couch. "Stay...like that" she almost husked.

She sipped her tea as her gaze went back and forth between the television and me. When her attention was on the television, I slid my hand under the edge of the blanket. Taking her by the ankle I drew her foot out and across my lap; where I slowly started to massage her warm skin.

"Stanley...mmmmmmmmmmmm" she murmured as I massaged the heel of her foot.

"You shouldn't...unnnnngggg" she moaned as I worked the tight muscles of her calf.

"Do you know what you are doing?" she almost panted as I remained silent.

I finally raised my head and stared into the eyes. The heel of her foot was firmly placed against my raging hardness, there was no way she could miss it.

"Every step of the way" I told her without wavering my gaze.

I saw a flash of something in her eyes; and then fear washed over her face. She slowly slid her foot back and swung her legs around.

"I need to go to bed" she murmured.

I just sat immobile as she rose and headed for the stairs. I had a pretty good idea what was going to happen inside her bedroom; but it didn't seem the right time to eavesdrop.

Instead I headed up to my room and prepared for bed myself. As I settled on my pillow, I thought I heard a passionate outcry down the hall; but I ignored it.

I was up the next morning a little after eight. I waited in my room until I heard dad's car as it pulled out of the driveway. Slipping down the hall I pulled mom's journal out and flipped to the last page.

"He wasn't wearing a shirt. Dear God that chest, those muscles. I wanted to touch them, kiss them, and lick them. The darkness is growing again; God help me."

There it was; mute evidence. The object of her attention, the focus of her lust; was me. Back in my room I sat at my desk and thought. The two biggest questions in my mind were; how much, if any, would it damage our mother and son relationship. The second was more basic; could I really fuck my mother.

The second question was the easiest to answer. I thought of that full chest, those hips as they swayed; and an ass that drew the eyes like magnets, even in a pair of jeans. Yep, let me drop my jeans I thought.

As for the first question, there was no real answer until the situation occurred. The one thing I did know; was I wanted to find out what my reaction to her was.

Rising from bed I dressed and headed down to the kitchen. Mom was standing at the sink finishing the breakfast dishes. She already had a plate at the table for me, but I ignored it and walked up behind her. With no warning, I wrapped my arms around her from behind and embraced her.

Mom gave a squeal of surprise and then froze as my lips pressed into the warm skin of her neck. I heard a soft guttural moan as her body melted against me. I had the urge to reach up and cup her breasts, but I wasn't pushing...yet. Instead I pressed my lips to her ear.

"I love you" I whispered softly.

"Stanley what are you...unngggggggggggggg" she groaned as I pressed my hardness into the jean covered crevice of her ass.

Turning in my embrace she looked up at me. I could see that same expression of the flash last night; I was right, it was unmitigated lust.

"That is not how you kiss your mother" her face flushed crimson and her chest rose and fell with labored breathing.

"Neither is this" I told her.

My lips lowered and pressed to hers. She stiffened in surprise; but instead of fighting me; she simply went limp against the sink and accepted my lips. Pulling her head back, she stared at me wild eyed.

"God help me" she almost wept. Then she ran from the kitchen.

I could hear her steps as she bounded upstairs, and her bedroom door slam shut behind her. Today's experiment was over; I was raging hard and there was no mistaking my reaction to holding her. I wanted her.

I gave her a couple of days to cool down, and to drop her guard. Her last entry had been after our kiss; and she had ranted for two pages on she wanted it, but couldn't; how she physically reacted to our kiss and then reviled her for it.

I needed some way for something to happen, but it needed to be almost an accident; something neither of us "controlled". Surprisingly she was the one who gave me the idea. On Saturday dad was at the church getting everything ready for tomorrow; mom had poked her head into my room saying she was doing laundry and to bring my dirty clothes to the basement.

I walked into the laundry room and mom was bent over loading the drying, while the washer filled with water for the next load. I stood there a moment and stared as the material of her jeans pulled tight across those globes. She really did have a great ass, I thought.

When she rose back up, I walked over and put my basket on the top of the washer. Mom's back was to me just like the kitchen sink, and my hips moved up behind her.

"Thank younngggghhhh" Mom moaned as I pressed myself into her ass.

Instinctively she shifted her hips forward, away from me. The problem was that pinned her pelvis against the edge of the washing machine, just as it hit the first wash cycle. I heard the rhythmic thump of the washer tub; and in the same instant a shock look crossed mom's face.

My cock pressed into the groove of her ass as the thump of the washing machine sent a bolt through her pelvis. Mom's head dropped and she groaned as I pressed her into the machine.

"Can't...should...ohhhhhhhhhhh" Mom garbled

I wasn't sure how hyped up she still was from two days ago, but apparently pretty damned far. It took less than five minutes for everything to break loose. Her head snapped up and she looked over her shoulder at me, and a string of filth poured out of her.

"Oh fucking hell, I'm cumming" she groaned.

I felt her body convulse against me; followed by twitching and moaning as she flooded her panties. I could literally smell her heat in the air as she rolled through her orgasm. When she finally started to ease back down, I pulled my hips back, turned, and walked from the laundry room without saying a word. Mom was still leaning into the washing machine trying to catch her breath as I walked out.

With the next day being Sunday, and dads big day of the week; I backed off. I so wanted to see mom's journal but since they were both home I figured there just wasn't a chance. But twenty-four hours of inner turmoil was more than mom could take.

Sunday evening, I was in my room playing a video game when mom quietly slipped through the door. I turned my chair and looked at her standing just inside the closed door; her eyes frightened but determined. I sat silently and waited, she needed to do this.

"Why?" she asked barely above a whisper.

I could have pushed her to be more outspoken, but having read her journal I knew the angst she was going through; and there didn't seem to be anything to gain by pushing it.

"Because you needed the release" I told her. "And I enjoyed it" I just had to add.

"I'm your mother" her eyes widened.

"You're a woman" I replied.

"I'm your mother" she said more firmly.

"And you are also a woman" I repeated.

Mom stood silent for a moment staring at me. She started to reach for the door knob and I figured the discussion was over; and then her soft voice came back.

"You didn't find...you didn't get..." she struggled to say.

"I did it later, alone, thinking of you." I had to be honest.

"Oh my Lord" she whispered. Her head rose and she looked at me. "You've done that before?" I could see the almost fascination in her eyes.

"I could do it now" I admitted.

"You wouldn't" her voice was almost strangled.

She could have opened the door and left at any time. The flush that filled her face was evidence that was as much a challenge as a statement. I unsnapped my jeans and lifted my ass off the chair. Pulling down my jeans and briefs in one move; my throbbing hard cock slid into view.

This was a moment of truth like no other. I had just exposed myself to my mother; and it was far from an accident. She could have run away; she could have screamed at me; hell she could have run and told dad downstairs. Instead, she stood mute, rooted to the spot as her eyes locked to my throbbing manhood.

Neither of us spoke a word as I began to slowly stroke my cock; her eyes never wavering. Her breasts rose and fell with her labored breathing; the two small pebbles in her dress, evidence of her own arousal.

I didn't know how much time we had, so I didn't waste any. I picked up the pace; milking my cock as clear pre cum oozed from the tip. Mom never moved or said a word, her eyes glued to my cock. The fact she was even watching me added an element I had never experienced before, and it didn't take long for my balls to boil.

"Fuck" I grunted.

I heard a sharp intake of breath from mom as she watched the first thick rope arch up into the air to splatter on my belly. She just stood there and watched as I emptied my balls all over my stomach. Then, without a word, opened the door and slipped out.

The next evening, on Monday; both of them were out for the adult evening bible study class. It was the perfect opportunity. I headed straight for her vanity, and using my cell phone to again duplicate the string, retrieved her journal.

While it was tempting to read from yesterday, I turned back to Saturday and read her reactions to the laundry room.

He pressed me to the machine and I couldn't stop myself. I wasn't sure if he knew what was happening but the movement was terrible. Heaven help me I lost control of my body. When I realized what was happening it was too late; he had to have heard my outburst but said nothing. I am so ashamed; not because it happened, but because I want those sensations again.

So she had thought the washing machine was an accident, so what had brought her upstairs. I turned the page and there were two entries for Sunday. The first was right after church.

I had the most vile thoughts, and in a house of God of all places. Perhaps the Lord gave me a revelation, I don't know anymore. He knew he had to have known; it hit me during services like a sickening blow. I remembered his hardness pressing into me from behind; God help me it felt so good. How do I face him, speak to him. I have to stop this; I must face my demons and face him.

Well, so much for Saturday being an 'accident' after all. Mom had realized I was hard as a rock shoved into her ass; and that the whole washing machine incident had been deliberate. She had come to my room to salve the turmoil inside her.

I started reading her entry from last night; and I had my cock in my hand in three sentences. I had never read anything so erotic or salacious in my life.

I saw it, God help me I am lost. It rose from him rampant like a magnificent tree, a column of flesh that called to my body. He had the audacity to pleasure himself in front of me; after admitting I was the cause of his need. If I was the cause, should I not have been the one to give succor. Succor, such a strange word; so close and not right. I didn't want succor, I wanted to suck; God how I wanted to taste him; to be the cause of his pleasure. When that thick cream came out it was such a shock. Never have I seen a man so fertile, so prodigious. I barely held back the urge to race to his side and clean him with my tongue. How can I cause that, what does he even see in me. He says I am a woman; but I haven't felt like one. Not like I felt last night. I want...I don't know what I want.