Different Fathers

6,030 words 25-minute read.

Different Fathers (Incest Mom and Son)

I am quite humbled by the editing I received from 'Bunkerhill' volunteer editor. Hoorah! Mission Accomplished! He assisted in combining and rewriting a two-piece idea into one story. Thank you to Bunkerhill.

The best surprise I ever had came from my mom when I turned nineteen. We lived on a hardscrabble farm in the Sacramento Valley of northern California, where we raised dairy cattle and alfalfa hay. The family consisted of three children and two parents. We had stayed together until the oldest left for college in nineteen fifty-seven. The remaining four were depleted when the second one married and moved to Washington State in nineteen fifty-eight—then being further reduced until it was just my mom and me when my dad returned to a job with the merchant marines out of San Francisco.

When life settled down in nineteen fifty-nine, mom and I occupied a house that had sheltered a family of five. Since it was challenging to maintain, she decided to move into the little farm town. So many other farmers across the country were moving at that time as large farming corporations had started buying up farms.

She sold the farm and bought a small two-bedroom home that was forty to seventy years old. It was situated on a little wasted lot in the center of town. She kept the mineral rights from the farm acreage, and as a result, she would never suffer for income. She drew about fifteen hundred dollars a month for the natural gas produced on the farm.

The bedrooms were arranged with a full bath with doors into each bedroom, known as a Jack and Jill floor plan. Interestingly, the name of the floor plan was the names of my mother and me; Jill and Jack.

My mom was 19 years older than me, and we had always joked about how life would change that day because I would no longer be less than half her age. She wanted to celebrate when the house was arranged and the deal closed on the farm. She called my siblings and sent a Western Union telegram to my dad, asking when they could come to a party to christen the little house.

The results were disappointing, and all were 'regrets' to the RSVP request. My dad was to be in Korea, my brother was scheduled to be a chief debater for the college, and my sister was now working at the Naval Research Station on Puget Sound near Anacortes, Washington State. Mom just took it all in stride and decided to spend the money on us instead.

She withdrew what she thought the celebration was going to cost, and we each packed a suitcase and drove to San Francisco, where we stayed at the Cliff House Hotel. She arranged for a suite of two bedrooms and paid for three nights. As soon as we had checked in, she said she wanted to go shopping and wanted me to help her choose some things she intended to purchase.

She stopped at the front desk, gave the man a list and a pair of ten-dollar bills, and smiled at me, deciding she would have a martini in the Palace Bar before we went out. She ordered two martinis and dropped four dollars on the bar. She immediately ordered two more and left a five-dollar bill before leading me to a booth in the dark cozy windowless corner. The booth only had one bench, so we sat beside each other and sipped the terrible-tasting drinks.

We hadn't finished the first martini when the barkeep shuffled the next two over to us. He asked if he could light the candle on the table, and my mom smiled at him and replied that she preferred that he wouldn't. He quickly swept the tabletop candle away, replacing it with a small shallow dish with a Gardenia floating in the water.

My mom loved the Gardenia, the martini, the quiet atmosphere, the dark corner booth, and that we were alone. She scooted over against me on the bench until I was jammed against the wall with her side touching me from my knee to my shoulder. The side of her breast was lying on the top of my forearm, and her leg was rubbing my leg. I was aware of my growing cock, which was pinched and becoming painful as it grew harder and longer twisted around in my briefs and slacks.

I was about to squirm and free myself when she laid her hand on it and began to stroke up and back, lightly but deliberately. I felt like she had knocked the wind out of me. I inhaled sharply and noisily at first. However, when she continued, I began to breathe faster.

She downed her first martini, looked over at me, and said, "Jack, did you know that you have a different dad than your sister and brother?"

I choked, spurted martini all over the table, and coughed from the martini, burning my nose.

After I regained control, she continued, "One time during the War, I was delivering ice for the ice company my dad owned when I met a guy who was 4-F. He was the mechanic at the Boulder Hotel. He helped me unload the largest blocks of ice into the hotel iceboxes in the kitchen. There were about nine hundred pounds of ice in 40 to 70-pound blocks, so his help was welcome and needed."

"When the ice had been taken care of, he told me to meet him in the bar in ten minutes, while he would get my payment. He picked up the house phone, called the bar, described me, and told the bartender to pour me a gin martini."

"He described me as five feet four inches, beautiful, shapely, shiny black hair, and thirsty. He showed me where the bar was and said, 'Let Dale tell you where to sit, and I will be able to find you.'"

"It was just after lunch hour, so the bar was busy. Dale, the bartender, had a tray ready and walked me over to a booth in the corner. He revealed the booth by pulling open a heavy brocade curtain. The booth was like this, one-sided."

"When Dale placed my drink on the table, he put three others there. I looked at him, and he said, 'Warren will want one when he comes in, so do not be alarmed. Not only that, I won a prize at the Chicago World's Fair competition for the best martini, and that is what I have prepared for you. Enjoy; they are delicious.'"

"I sat and tasted my first alcohol. I liked the Chile flavor and bite of the martini. I had finished it and half of another when Warren arrived with the check for the ice. He slid onto the bench beside me, causing me to slide farther along the bench until I was squished against the wall, much as you are here now. I had waited for about twenty minutes and was feeling and enjoying the martini and the effect of the alcohol."

"I had been warned by my parents of the evils of alcohol and had no understanding of how straight gin and vermouth would taste or affect me. Warren picked up the half-finished glass, and offered his glass against the third martini sitting on the table offering a toast,' May the fair maiden enjoy the experience of a martini in the middle of a workday in the best hotel west of the Mississippi River. I am charmed by the beauty, and pressure of the lady rubbing herself against me.'"

"He waited until I had another sip and said, 'Jill, raise your glass and listen. I have never been so hypnotized by a woman. I am defenseless and charmed by you. Jill, I cannot remember ever feeling so close to a stranger as I have been feeling being with you today. Drink up, Jill, this toast is to you and me.'"

"I questioned, "What 'you and me?' I do not know of any 'you and me.'"

"Warren said, 'The day is still young. The Coyotes haven't sung yet, the sun still casts short shadows, and you do not have to hurry off since I saved you an hour unloading the ice. Drink up.'"

"Well, Jack, I did. This Warren was handsome and smooth, and I was excited about how dangerous he seemed with the smooth talk and the flow of martinis down my throat. He had placed his hand on my jeans at my knee and was gently patting my knee like I am patting your cock. He was continuously giving me reasons to keep drinking the martini. I did, and he ordered me another."

"I had five martinis in about forty-five minutes, all the while sitting there with his hand caressing my leg. He had begun to drop his fingers down between my upper thighs, and I realized that I had spread my legs to allow him to reach farther up my legs. He had an arm draped over my shoulder and was whispering so that I leaned close to hear. He was smooth, Jack, he was able to feel my breasts, my crotch, and even kissed me deeply after a tentative first kiss."

"We were tongue kissing and moaning and hugging each other before I realized I had agreed to go with him, and we left the bar."

"Warren was holding my arm and keeping me walking steadily toward the hotel offices. He slipped us through a staff door into a room equipped for the front desk crew to sleep during the night when they could."

"The room had a bed, and a shower, and seemed pretty much like a small hotel room to me. I had seen rooms in an auto court my grandfather had owned, so it seemed familiar and comfortable."

"Warren closed and locked the door, and then we stood and kissed for a few minutes, while he unbuttoned my shirt, undid my belt, knelt in front of me, untied my shoes, and pulled them from my feet. While pulling my jeans off over my heels, I realized what he had done. He stood and kissed me more while squeezing my ass and caressing my buns gently and smoothly pulling my panties over my hips and again he knelt in front of me while I stood there on fire and drunk as a lord."

"He pulled my panties over my heels and placed the gusset of them in his mouth and sucked my moisture from it. I was stunned, incensed, and panting by now. I was confused about what I was doing. A married woman with two small children, and I was kissing a strange man I had never seen until two hours ago. I wanted him, and I needed him to treat me like a piece of trash because he was seemingly a bad man wanting to screw someone else's wife. Back in those days, this wasn't even the subject of novels."

"I was being a slut, loving it, wanting it, and wanting him to fuck me hard and thoroughly. He was in control of me without regard for loving or caring about me. I wanted to be used, abused and fucked hard and rough. I wanted to do all of the things I could imagine a man and a woman doing together. I wanted him to call me names, treat me disrespectfully, and not care about how I felt."

"He handed me the panties and said, 'Suck the crotch and slip one leg opening over your neck.'"

"I did. I felt like a whore for the first time in my life. I liked the feeling. I wanted the nastiness of sucking on my pussy soaked panties because he told me to do it. I liked that he had not asked me a single question about if I was okay with what he was doing. He simply read my frustrated housewife image accurately and made me his toy. "He was still on his knees when he said, "Jill, prop your foot up there on the dresser, and lean back."

"I did as he asked, which pushed my pussy forward toward his face, and spread my pussy lips apart exposing myself to his eyes."

"Warren then said, 'Finger yourself.'"

"I asked him, 'What?'"

"He seemed upset immediately, and said, 'Jill, do not make me repeat another thing. Do what I tell you without any questions or doubts. Do it immediately. Now then, since I have had to repeat myself, You will need to make it up to me. I want you to finger yourself and then place your fingers in your mouth and clean them off. Do it, Jill!'"

"So, Jack, I spent the entire afternoon and evening in that room with a stranger doing things I couldn't even have thought of when I entered the room. He fucked my pussy, ass, and mouth. He made me lick his ass, suck his toes, and of course, he had me suck his cock. He fucked me three times at first, requiring me to suck him after each time until he was hard enough to fuck me. The third time he fucked me, he stopped and asked if I sucked my husband's cock."

"When I said that I didn't, he continued to fuck me until he was going to come, and then he came in my mouth. I loved the sensation of humility when I sucked his cock, but it was nothing compared to the nastiness of having him come in my open mouth."

"By then the amount of come was not so copious so that I was able to keep it all in my mouth. I loved the sensation of Warren pulsing and feeling the heat in my mouth. It tasted different from anything I could remember eating. The degraded feeling was powerful and a necessity for me to get what I wanted from cheating."

"When I eventually left the hotel, it was after nine PM, without knowing what I would tell my husband., I left the hotel in the icetruck and went back to the ice house where I attempted to clean up in the bathroom sink. My clothes were splattered with come, I didn't have my panties, Warren had them, and my hair and makeup were a mess that I couldn't repair."

"I sat in the office alone for a long time. I didn't cry; I didn't regret it. The fact was I wanted to go back to Warren for more. I called the hotel, but Warren had gone for the day. No, they didn't share employee telephone numbers. I decided that I would go home and fuck my husband. I was so horny."

"I went home, and he was asleep, which gave me a chance to clean up before I crawled into bed and took his cock in my mouth.'"

"He woke with a startled, 'Hey?'"

"He stopped me and said, 'Jill, what are you doing?'"

"I said, 'I have always wondered what I was missing, and decided to find out. Do you want me to stop?'"

He replied, "Yes. Where did you ever hear of such a thing?'"

I told him, "At the hotel today."

He said, "Well, Jill, we'll have to talk in the morning. I am tired and sleepy, so it will have to wait until the morning."

He rolled over. I got out of bed, took my pillow, took a shower, and got in bed with your brother and slept there that night.

I didn't consider that I might have gotten pregnant, even though Warren later told me we had fucked six times, and that he had come in me four of those. When I delivered ice three days later, Warren was waiting on the freight dock. He directed two other hotel workers to unload, and we returned to the room where we had a quick blow job. I swallowed it all. He fucked me, and this time, he ate me out before and afterward. That was the second time I had ever had my pussy kissed and sucked on. I was a sex addict from that event for the rest of my life.

Six weeks later, I knew I was pregnant. I had you floating around in me. I was torn about abortion, but they were so dangerous, and I realized I wanted you when I was honest with myself. So, I decided no one else would need to know my secret.

Today is the first time I have told anyone.

"Now then, Jack are you interested in repeating that first night I had with Warren with me tonight? I want you to feel free to say not, but I hope you will say yes."

"Yes,"

Jill waved to the bartender, paid the bill with two twenties and a five, and we held each other as we went to the elevator. Once inside, Jack asked if she really meant to repeat that evening. Jill kissed Jack deeply until the elevator reached their floor.

As they got off the elevator, they hugged and kissed while walking awkwardly to their room.

In the room, we found the staff had fulfilled mom's requests and arranged the items on the bar and cocktail table in the suite of two bedrooms.

The room was on the 3rd floor of the Cliff House and had a view of the coast and the rugged rocky pillars of extinct volcano vents. They stood as sentinels to the violence shown by the breaking waves. The fog rolled along the coast on a southern breeze, causing the air to be damp and chilled by the fog.

We opened the windows and allowed the fresh air into the stuffy rooms and stood side-by-side looking at the beauty and feeling the effects of our drinking and fondling while in the bar.

Mom put an arm around my waist and leaned her head on my shoulder while saying that we were a perfect couple because we knew each other well enough to be honest in every way if we would commit to that.

I agreed, turned, and kissed the top of her head. We released each other, and mom opened the gin and made us each a tall double gin and tonic. She proposed that we unpack and settle in for the three days. I placed her suitcase on the bag stand, flipped the latches open, and lifted the lid to the wall to make it accessible for her. What I saw on the top of her belongings was a surprise. She had a photo album I had never seen. I had been through all her things as a teenager fondling her panties, bras, and slips. I looked in all the boxes in her closet but had never seen this photo album.

The temptation was way too strong in my inebriated condition to resist looking, so I flipped it open to a random page and was startled to see a picture of her with a stranger. The picture was obviously from many years ago and intrigued me enough that I turned to her and asked her who is the guy in the picture.

When she finally answered, I could tell that by my asking the question, I had somehow become the person in charge. She saw which picture I was looking at and told me it was my father and her on one of their 'dates'. Her answer wasn't a shock, but it was enough to cause me to look at the man more closely, taking in the clothing and deciding that it was a picture taken during The War.

She had me lay the album on the cocktail table, moving the gin and set-ups to make room to open it fully. The cover was similar to the covers of her other photo albums I knew of from my snooping in her things; except it was decorated as though a high school girl oversaw the design. Scattered on both the front and back it had hearts, flowers, cupids, and slogans typical of a hormone-ravaged teenage girl.

She told me that I was about to learn some things that no one else alive knew about her, and she was happy that the revelation was finally here. She was sure that I would be able to accept the truth but was also convinced that there was no one else on earth that she wanted to know about it.

With that, she turned to the inside back cover and revealed a picture of her on a stage in pasties and a G-string, high heels, and extravagantly trashy makeup. The most startling thing about the picture of her was that she was pregnant. The inside of the last page of the album had an 8-½ x 11 black-and-white glossy picture of her in the same pose with money tucked into the waistband and leg openings of the G-string. Her bare breasts were tipped no longer by the pasties, and her nipples were hard and pointing forward. She was months farther along in her pregnancy.

The next picture she showed me was a police booking photo with the inmate number sign for inmate number 5973142 visible along with the Las Vegas Police label. She was wearing what looked like a man's suit jacket. It looked as though she could have been naked beneath the coat. Her eye makeup was smeared, and mascara was streaked down one cheek, as though she had been crying.

As she took a big swallow of gin and tonic she said that this was not the worst scenario depicted in the album. She asked me if I wanted to know the rest of the story and waited for my answer.

I told her that if she wanted me to know, then she needed to do what she wanted, that I could handle anything. If I had known what was in the scrapbook, I am still not sure to this day that I would have seemed so cavalier about what she was revealing about herself.

When she turned the page, (we are starting at the back of the scrapbook, which was distracting to my thinking), I was off balance by the contents of the album, and looking from the back towards the front made it seem even more surreal.

Here I was drunk with my mother, after swapping passionate kisses and caressing each other. Now we were looking at pictures of her about the time I was born. On top of that, the pictures were of her in something other than a family atmosphere. Might you understand how I was off balance?

I took a deep drink of the gin and tonic; then she said that there was a time when she and my 'dad' had split up while he went to Saudi Arabia. He went to work in the oil fields to earn more money in a month than he could earn in a year working in the States. When he left, they had been fighting because her hormones were raging, but dad was very unsophisticated about women and marital sex. He didn't understand at all that she wanted sex all the time. He thought she should be a content little wife having sex on Saturday night after a shower.