Dying Wish Ch. 02

Author's Note: Much like Ch 1, there's very little "action" in this part, so maybe take that into account before deciding whether or not you wish to continue. Thanks for all the feedback so far, which has been much more positive than I ever anticipated.

As always, all sexual situations only involve characters 18 years and older.

I felt like a lot had happened that I needed to make proper sense of before taking the next step. That meant confronting Mom. I could tell Dad and Mom were up to something as they seemed even more conspiratorial these days, which meant I could simply wait for them to launch whatever plan they were concocting, but if I were really going to do this then I wanted to do it my way. Dad would understand; he was very much a man's man and would respect my wishes if I explained it to him in those terms, and Mom... well, she was more of a mystery to me now than ever. I knew she respected strength and conviction; at least she seemed to in her relationship with Dad, and so I decided to go into this with that mentality.

Dad would be spending the better part of today at the hospital, having some routine checkups and tests done. By now we had a nurse that would come over to the house once a week or more if needed, a lady in her sixties named Nancy, and she'd always accompany Dad on these trips. I had volunteered to come too on many occasions, but Dad refused, saying I already had too much on my plate as it was between handling his business and personal affairs. And Mom? I'm sure she would have gone, but Dad insisted on Nancy instead, as she would be better suited to take of his needs on what was typically a long, arduous day.

Mom was out watering her plants, wearing a yellow floral dress with a matching linen hat. Practical and simple, yet still managing to be elegant and charming. It was hard not to notice how well the outfit looked on her graceful form, following the gentle curves of a woman who despite being in her early forties looked more ravishing than ever. Of course, I'd always known these things about her, but clearly I had changed too over this past while. Dad had told me to "consider the possibilities," and between that and the startling images I'd seen in Mom's sketchbook I found myself lost in thought doing just that these days.

"James, what are you doing out here?" Mom asked in surprise. She was justified in her response, in that I'm about the most anti-nature guy you'll ever meet, to the point where even going out to Mom's home garden, lush and pretty as it was, was tantamount to being in a wild jungle for me. She was noticeably amused by my discomfort, beaming back at me with those bright, angelic eyes and that wide, captivating smile. Those were easily Mom's best features, enough to get readily lost in if you allowed yourself, but I did my best to stay on track and not allow my resolve to weaken.

"Mom, we need to talk. Can we go inside or something?"

"Sure dear, I'm almost done," she replied. She handed me a green, empty watering can and said, "Could you fill this up while I continue here?" Mom kept watering with the can in her hand while I went to a nearby outdoor faucet to fill the other." We didn't speak for the next few minutes as Mom finished watering, once again displaying that poker face that I'd known for years but only recently had discovered could hold much darker secrets than anything I could imagine.

We went back into the house and Mom brewed up some herbal tea. That was her comfort food, even on a sweltering hot day like today, it was always her go-to. It said a lot about Mom - she rarely drank or had any other vices I was aware of. Sure, I'd gotten a few hints over the years that she was probably a little freaky in bed, but other than feeling a bit awkward about having knowledge like that about my own mother I didn't care. Sexuality is simply a part of being human, and as long as a person stays within certain boundaries that we've all learned to acknowledge, then I could care less about what that person is into. Mom hadn't done that, however, she'd clearly crossed a line that we all know is wrong. A lot of emotions had been churning inside me since I got the news, and more than a few of them hostile. I was angry and distressed and, as illogical as it may sound, I felt betrayed.

"So, what is it that you want to talk about, James?" Mom asked, innocently enough. Once again, I had to give it to Mom and her poker face that only gave away to the slightest amount of unease. This woman's ability to deceive was something else.

"I just wanted to know..." I began, slightly stuttering in a way that was barely audible before continuing, "How and when the sweet, caring Mother I've had all these years turned into an incest-loving slut?"

My words made her wince noticeably, and not without intention on my part. In fact, this was one of the few sentences I'd prepared beforehand to say to her. I didn't know who this woman was, and a side of me just wanted the one I'd admired over all these years to come back. I know the logical, mature thing to do would be to forget ideas like that and move on, but I couldn't resist. Part of me was badly hurt by what she'd done and wanted to hurt her back. This was my way of doing so.

I expected my words to provoke an emotional response, but I wasn't sure what would be. In any event, I prepared for the worst, which would have been a burst of anger. It never came, however, as instead Mom slumped forward in her chair, looking wistful and defeated.

"I'm sorry, James, for everything," Mom finally said. Her voice was cracking up, practically sobbing now. "If there was one thing I wanted to get right in this world, it was to be a good mother to you. I've been a failure at everything I've ever tried, but I could accept even that if I could have at least lived up to my responsibilities to you. But now I know that I'm a fuck-up at that too."

One of the things that's never ceased to amaze me is how often I see my parents in myself, or vice versa if that makes more sense. It's as if you could draw a straight line between every personal trait of mine and find the same one in either my mother and father. In Dad's case, it meant inheriting his business acumen and intelligence in general, but in Mom's it meant sharing her anxieties, such as a lack of confidence or being awkward and shy socially. That's not to say everything I got from Mom was negative; for instance I'd always managed to stay in good shape with relative ease and knew enough to say that I had above average looks, both qualities that I'm certain I inherited from her, but most of the time I felt like I gotten the short end of the stick when it came to Mom's attributes.

And now? One of the revelations I'd had about recent events was how quickly and easily I'd succumbed to the most taboo temptations. For all my moralizing against Mom, all it had taken was being shown a few dirty drawings of us committing incest before I found myself helplessly jacking off to them. Would a stronger son, a stronger man, have behaved so woefully? I had a hard time believing otherwise, and so I kept wondering if there was some sort of "incest gene," that Mom had passed on to me that had made me more susceptible to giving in to those thoughts and desires.

"You're not a failure, Mom," I said, trying to console her. Not that I still wasn't upset with her, but I hated it when she'd her beat herself up like this. "It's just... Dad's been trying to convince me that you and I should continue on without him, and besides all of the complications that come with something like that... I don't think I can enter into any relationship that isn't built on complete honesty and trust." Not that I felt like Mom had been putting on an act with me all these years, but there was undoubtedly a wide gap between understanding the woman who had raised me and the one who'd felt compelled to create those drawings.

"You're still hurting over Melissa, aren't you?" Mom asked.

I silently nodded back 'yes,' feeling pain even with the mention of her name. I'd only been in one serious relationship, and that with a girl named Melissa that I'd met I college. As much as I'd loved her, the relationship had been mostly a tumultuous one, ending angrily when I found out she'd been cheating on me. I'd never gotten over the ache of that breakup, and in particular over my feelings of betrayal. As much as my family and friends tried to pin all the blame on Melissa for cheating on me, I'd still mostly criticize myself for what happened. Sure, I'd blame her for the affair, but I couldn't shake the notion that I was responsible for driving her to such extremes. And that was fine by me, as I was determined not to make the same mistakes that in my mind had led to her infidelity in the first place.

"I'm still not clear on what you're looking for dear," Mom said.

"I mean I need to know anything, and everything, starting from beginning."

"The beginning of what?"

"As far back as you need to go. I'm not interested in judging you, Mom, and I promise I won't, despite the way I spoke to you just now. All I want is to understand. But that means being an open book with me, and of course me being the same with you. If you're serious about trying to make this whole thing work... well, it's the only way I can try and meet you halfway."

"I see," Mom replied. There was a solemnness to her tone that made me feel like I'd gotten through to her.

"And one other ground rule, Mom, if you want to call it that. As much as I insist we be open with each other, I need us to be closed off with everyone else."

"By 'everyone else,' you mean your father," Mom deadpanned. "I don't know if that's such a good idea, James. After everything you just said, you of all people should understand how wrong it is to keep secrets."

"I'm not saying we keep Dad totally in the dark. He'll want to know how things are progressing, and knowing him, I'm sure he'll be pressing hard for details. And he deserves to be kept in the loop, at least generally speaking. But that's as far that goes. Anything more than that, anything said or done between us is none of Dad's business any more than it's the neighbors' business or the mailman's business."

"Bryan will not be pleased to hear that," Mom said with a slight look of apprehension.

"You let me deal with that," I said in a gruff, slightly gravelly voice. "Dad was the one the pushing for all this in the first place. Well, if he wants things his way then he's gonna have to play by my rules." It wasn't until I'd finished speaking that I realized how much I was channeling Dad when he was in one of his acerbic moods, right down to my tone of voice. Mom certainly noticed it though, enough that she laughed a little as she usually did with him. You could say Mom simply tolerated Dad when he behaved like this, but I always viewed outbursts like that as a sign of strength, something that she ultimately respected and even found attractive about him. So hearing Mom do the same way with me... well I admit it felt good, even special.

"It sounds like we have a lot to talk about then," Mom said with resignation. "How about we have sandwiches for lunch and then go out by the pool for the rest of the day? Bryan won't be back for a few hours or so and I hear it's going to be a scorcher."

"Sure thing," I answered. We ate lunch, not really saying much other than a little small talk. I knew how much of a sun worshiper Mom was - it was the closest thing she had to a vice - and thankfully her skin had not been damaged over the years and the honey bronzed sun tan she carried most of the year looked stunning. In any event, lying outside by the pool was where she felt safest and most comfortable. I knew that's why she suggested we talk there, and so I was more than happy to wait until we returned to our main topic at hand.

I went up to my bedroom to change, and not really having much to choose from quickly selected a pair of red gym shorts and a white t-shirt. When I got back down, Mom was still away, but I knew where she usually settled and went to lay down nearby on the patio recliner that Dad typically used. Mom was right about it being an unusually warm day, as after only a few minutes of waiting I could already feel myself on the verge of perspiration. However, that feeling of discomfort was nothing compared to the one I felt when I saw Mom enter the patio. She was wearing a black bikini, something that could have been designer made with the way it perfectly followed her curves, particularly the contours of her breasts.

It wasn't the most revealing bikini I'd ever seen; in fact I was willing to bet Mom had a least one or two numbers that showed more, but it was easily the sexiest one I'd seen in years. The bottoms had a sharp, high cut, looking a pair of skimpy, V-shaped panties in the front and, well, the back had just enough material to cover the essentials, basically leaving all of her ass exposed. Those flawless cheeks, along with the tantalizing curve of her hips had that always been Mom's best below-the-neck feature, made it even more amazing that the outfit had been clearly designed to show off the bust, with a thick underwire running below the breasts that pushed them up and forwards like a push-up bra. Mom's B-cups have always looked great, but in this outfit her cleavage looked like it was on the verge of popping out as she slinked her way towards me. Thank god I was wearing sunglasses, because my eyes were practically glued to her sexy body as she approached me, especially those jaunting breasts. It was so weird though, fighting the urge to ogle her body and yet knowing that both she and Dad wanted me to see her this way.

"What do you think of my outfit, James? It's new." The slight playfulness in Mom's voice and walk was perfect, knowing just the right amount of tease to get a man's motor running without coming on too strong.

"Another new one?" I said mockingly back, sounding a lot more like Dad than I expected. "How many of those outfits do you need?"

"I'll have you know that this is the first one I've bought in years," Mom replied, keeping the light-hearted tone going but also feigning a little anger herself.

"I have a hard time believing that."

"It's true. In fact, I only started wearing them again after you moved back home. Before that, I was going au natural at home. With the heat being the way it is today, I thought about doing so again, but considering the earnestness of your words earlier I thought it might be a little too much if I came out wearing nothing but my shoes and a smile..."

The image of Mom walking towards me from the house, her hips doing that alluring, slight sway that was her walk, wearing nothing but her high heeled sandals briefly entered my mind, and I did my best to push it out. Her white and black leather sandals, open toed, with three inch block heals... I don't know how comfortable they were but they were sexy as hell to look at.

My mind went back to a memory from years ago when I'd been out with a friend and we saw a knockout of a woman wearing the tightest of miniskirts, her shoes making that clopity-clop sound as she walked, and he commented about how the shoes perfectly completed her seductive appearance and sexy walk, jokingly referring to their distinctive sound as her "mating call." Not at all funny, but there was something weirdly primal, savagely lewd about the idea that to my surprise made me incredibly aroused. And so, as my friend laughed at his self-appointed cleverness I got even quieter, trying to forget that Mom had an identical pair. Try as I might, however, the dumb joke always came back to me whenever I heard the clop, clop, clop, sound of Mom walking around the pool in one of her contour hugging suits. The image of her strolling towards me in the nude now, giving me the most illicit smile as the sounds of her mating call filled my ears... damn it... this was really getting crazy now. I needed to grow up and act like an adult, not some horny teenager.

"You know James," Mom reasoned, "You're not going to last long out here dressed like that. You should at least take off that t-shirt. And well, it's just the two of us here; if you want to take the rest off that's no big deal either."

Mom had a point and, I have to say, and her tone was not at all sexual; more like the way she always sounded when trying to give me advice. I recalled one of those little nuggets of private information I'd gathered over time, that she had been to a few nude beaches over the years, and although it was definitely not Dad's thing I doubt she would have balked if I had gone with her on some of those occasions. So clearly we could be naked without it being sexual. I took off my t-shirt and dropped it to the ground next to me. It was already stained here and there from perspiration, and I was happy as hell to have it off me.

"There, don't you feel much better now?" Mom asked, again sounding purely innocent.

"Much better," I replied. Mom went over to her patio recliner and got settled in, giving me a few moments to think. Even though I felt mature when it came to things like my career, there were so many times like this, where I knew I still had a lot of growing up to do, especially compared to Mom. And with that, I decided to take my bottoms off as well. I could have easily slid them off from my sitting position and Mom wouldn't have seen anything, but once again it felt like I was selecting the cowardly and immature choice. I wanted to be more like Dad; he could be stubborn as hell, but the last thing you'd ever accuse him of was acting out of fear. And with that in mind, I casually stood up and, nonchalantly as I could, unbuttoned my shorts and pulled them down, and then took off my underwear as well. I was facing Mom's chair as I did so, not looking at her as I instead focused my attention on what I was doing, but I could feel her eyes on me, watching with interest without staring.

"There you go," Mom said, her voice sounding light and bubbly. "I bet that feels wonderful."

I looked over to her as casually as possible, and saw her eyes still fixed upon me and now sporting a wide grin as well. It came across as more innocent than anything, although I got the feeling the sexual side of her was pleased with what she saw as well, and that was fine by me too. After all, that was the direction were supposed to be heading with in all this eventually.

"I'd join you, but I've hardly ever worn this outfit and I kind of enjoy wearing it now," Mom happily said.

"It does seem perfect for you," I added. "When did you say you got it?"

"Last year when Bryan and I took that vacation to Jamaica, but I didn't wear it much. Turns out the nearest beach to our hotel was a nude one, and well, the weather was so fantastic I couldn't resist myself."

"Dad went to a nude beach?" I asked incredulously.

"Actually, it was a clothing optional, and a lot of fun. The only thing that I didn't expect was the... well... forwardness of some of the locals."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean anytime your Dad left me alone for more than a few minutes a different man would come over to speak to me. One even approached me with Bryan still there!"

"Were they really all trying to pick you up?" I asked, knowing right away how naïve I sounded.

"Dear..." Mom answered, admonishing me now although her tone sounded more amused than anything. "They barely even wanted to have any small talk first. Straight from saying, "Hello," and "How was your trip?" to asking me if I'd ever been with a black man before and how it would change my life once I gave it a try. Saying things like they make this my most memorable vacation ever if I went back to their place with them."

"Holy shit, Dad must have been livid."

"Bryan yells at this one guy to get lost," Mom began, before losing the last of her composure and uncontrollably giggling, "And the guy says, 'Oh, I get it, you're one of those husbands that likes to watch. Well, that's not really my thing, but your lady is such a hot piece of ass that I'll do it this one time. Just promise me that all you'll do is watch.'"