His Mother’s Lover

(Please note: I'm British and my stories are written in British English. I write whatever comes to me and in whatever way feels right to me. Some of my stories are down and dirty, some are slightly more restrained. They are all a part of my imagination and I don't censor my muse to fit any aesthetic. You might find that you like some and hate others. That's perfectly fine. I genuinely enjoy writing all of them and hope that each will find its intended audience.)

Lillian Montague felt like screaming as she listened to Stanley Sears, a friend of her late husband Kurt, drone on endlessly, almost tearful as he told her how much he was going to miss him.

She'd arranged a lavish repast at a local hotel after the funeral and everyone who had attended it had had the decency not to come back to the house afterwards, except Stanley.

He'd insisted on seeing her and her twenty-one-year old son William home, despite the fact that her son had driven her in his car.

Stanley travelling behind them in his black Rolls Royce had been too much of a reminder of the long queue of cars that had followed the hearse with her husband's remains earlier in the day.

His friend had given no thought to the fact that she had been the one with the main responsibility of arranging her husband's funeral and therefore had to be totally exhausted now. And despite 'missing' her husband, Stanley hadn't offered to help with even the smallest task.

He'd only known Kurt for three years. Yet he was acting as though he'd lost a childhood friend.

If he thought that she was going to offer him one of the spare bedrooms for the night, he was sadly mistaken.

Although she suspected that it was probably her bedroom he had in mind.

Her son had initially planned to drive back to the flat he shared with his girlfriend Bridgette in Oxford once he'd driven Lillian home safely, but he'd suddenly changed his mind.

She suspected that William hadn't been comfortable with the idea that she would be left alone in the house with Stanley after the emotional upheaval she'd experienced in the last ten days.

After the repast, Stanley had attached himself to her side like a limpet as she'd said her goodbyes to relatives and friends, giving himself an unwarranted position of importance.

He'd heard her persuade her parents to go home and rest, rather than spend the night keeping her company.

And he's suddenly decided that there was no need for her son to drive her home himself and delay the start of his journey back to Oxford.

William had firmly told the older man that not only did he need to ensure that his mother got home safely, he had study materials at the house that he needed to take back with him.

But when they had arrived at the house, William had decided that he was too tired to make the journey after all and would leave in the morning.

The older man had been wrong footed by William's change of mind, but he'd clearly come up with a new game plan.

He knew that her son had a morning exam in two days' time and couldn't further delay his departure. He also knew of William's habit of sometimes leaving very early in the morning to avoid the worst of the traffic on the motorways.

Everyone today had remarked how well her son had taken the news of his father's death and how incredibly brave he was being for not putting off taking his end-of-year exams when the university would have allowed him to sit them at a later date in view of the tragic circumstances.

Her son had always been a meticulous planner, but Lillian hadn't been sure that he would be up to the task of taking three of his exams after receiving the news of his father's sudden death, attending the funeral and then going back to take the rest.

William had assured her that he'd prepared in advance sufficiently and would be just fine.

His main concern had been leaving her to make the funeral arrangements alone. Once she'd assured him that her parents would give her the support she needed, he'd agreed to concentrate on his exams.

He'd driven down last night after an exam and would have driven back immediately after he'd dropped her home.

Now because of stupid Stanley, her son had had to change his plans.

Lillian wasn't worried about repulsing any lecherous advances Stanley would make. She'd successfully fended off dozens of them when he'd come to the house on the pretext of checking to see if she was okay while Kurt was in Afghanistan.

The trouble was that she was too tired to listen to the man extol all of her husband's virtues. The laughable thing was that Kurt had thought the man a prize idiot and had only tolerated him because Stanley came from money and had connections to clubs and places that Kurt had been barred entry.

Lillian felt tired to the marrow of her bones. She'd been up before dawn every morning for the last ten days—ever since the day Kurt's commanding officer had broken the news of his death to her. Now that the funeral was over and she had nothing pressing to take care of, she'd planned to catch up on the sleep she'd missed.

She was not about to let Stanley stay the night or get up early in the morning to make him breakfast!

"I think Mum needs to rest now, Mr Sears," her son William said firmly, removing the man's jacket from the coat rail and coming to hand it to him.

"You're probably right," the older man replied, getting to his feet with clear reluctance. "It's just that I know how lonely it can feel after the death of a spouse. I had no one around me when my wife died."

"My mother has me," William reminded him, sounding so much like Kurt that Stanley did a quick double take as he took the jacket and moved towards the front door.

"Call me if you need anything," he said over his shoulder as William practically shoved him outside.

"I'll be fine," she replied, stifling a smile. "Don't worry about me, Stanley."

She would have eventually gotten rid of him, but she would have felt compelled to do so in a more refined manner—although the man would probably not recognize refinement, even if it bit him on the butt.

"Thanks, my darling," she said, smiling in relief as her son came back to the large sofa where she and the man had been seated, his hands holding both of hers.

"He would have been here for another hour at least, if I hadn't shown him the door."

"Everyone but him understood my need for some peace and quiet, even your grandparents." Her parents had been concerned about her being on her own, but she'd promised that she would call them immediately if she felt the need for company. "I don't know why he thought his company was so special."

"He was probably hoping that you would offer him something to drink, so that he could claim to be over the limit and unable to drive home tonight."

"You realized that?"

Lillian laughed. Her son had always been very perceptive.

"I saw his eyes light up the minute I said that I was going to drive back to Oxford tonight."

"Darling, you didn't have to stay because of him," she replied. "I would have eventually sent him packing."

"I know," he said. "But I decided that I wanted to stay with you anyway."

"Thanks, sweetheart."

She wouldn't have been upset if William had gone back to Oxford, but she would feel better tonight knowing that he was in the house.

Her son leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Go to bed, Mum, you look exhausted."

"I need to tidy up first," she protested, getting wearily to her feet.

Her parents, her two brothers, their wives and seven children had all come to the house before the funeral. They hadn't left a huge mess in their wake, but the kitchen needed to be tidied.

"I'll do it," he promised. "You've done enough."

"Okay," she agreed and headed to her bedroom.

She shed the black dress that made her pale skin look pasty. It had never been her colour and she had no intention of wearing the dress again after today unless she absolutely had to.

She unhooked her black lace bra and stepped out of the matching panties.

Leaving them on the floor, she walked into the en suite bathroom and had a quick shower, feeling the need to wash the last remnants of the day off her body.

Kurt would have been livid if she'd left her clothes on the floor if he was alive.

But he was no longer there to ensure that she kept everything in military order.

After the shower, she crawled into bed naked.

She still couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that he was gone.

Her Major General husband had been due to fly home for good from Afghanistan the very next day!

When his commanding officer had turned up at her front door, she'd thought he'd come to say that there had been some delay and Kurt would be home a little later than planned.

Instead he'd broken the news that her husband and his driver had been killed by unexploded roadside bomb while driving through an area that had been designated safe.

Kurt's body had been flown home the next day and until she'd been taken to see it, she hadn't believed that he was actually dead.

He had been her first boyfriend.

They'd met in secondary school when she was thirteen and he was eighteen.

Her parents had been concerned about the five-year difference in their ages, but he'd soon talked them around and convinced them that he was a perfect gentleman.

But even at that age, Kurt had demanded total obedience from Lillian.

When she'd wanted to break things off, he'd threatened that he would kill her and everyone she loved if she left him.

She had taken his threats seriously at the time, but looking back she'd realized just how empty they had been.

Any of the three, her brawny father or her two equally strong brothers, could have taken on Kurt single-handedly. Her father would have probably shot him without a second thought. And either of her two older brothers would have strung him up by his balls.

But she had been in fear and hadn't been able to see things rationally.

Once she'd been cowed into obedience, Kurt had been so sweet and loving to her, she'd been almost convinced that his threats had been born out of his love for her.

With greater maturity she'd realized that he'd deliberately staked his claim to her when she was young enough to be manipulated.

He had treated her almost like a little sister, with studious care and consideration, when anyone else was around and he'd fooled everyone.

Her parents and her brothers had never seen him for who he really was and that had been the scariest thing of all.

She'd vowed that if she had a daughter, she would never let her date before the age of sixteen and even then, only boys her own age. It might not still have protected her, but Lillian would have done her damndest to try.

What she knew was that a girl of thirteen was no match for a boy five years older.

He'd said that it was her looks that had attracted him. The older she'd gotten, the more convinced she'd become that he had targeted her purely because of her age. He hadn't been able to bully girls his own age, so he'd gone for someone years younger.

After they'd gotten married, he'd dictated every aspect of her life, including the clothes she wore and the friends she kept.

She'd wanted to go to university to study History and then become a teacher, but he'd vetoed that idea.

Instead he'd married her almost as soon as she'd left secondary school and demanded that she remained a housewife.

By then he'd graduated the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst and had become a Second Lieutenant.

He'd always been tough but the training had hardened him further.

Even though she'd been living with her parents at the time, Lillian had felt compelled to accept his proposal, afraid that he would carry out his threat to kill everyone she loved.

She had become pregnant with William on their ten-day honeymoon in Barbados and Kurt had been over the moon—not because he'd desperately wanted to be a father, but because it had tied her more inextricably to him.

He had hit her twice in their marriage, but she was positive he would have hit her much more frequently if she had given him cause.

On both of those occasions he had contemptuously backhanded her across the face because she hadn't obeyed specific instructions.

The first time had been when Kurt ordered her to put twenty-month-old William in his cot to sleep without breastfeeding him first, just because he'd come back from an evening of drinks with his friends and had wanted sex.

The other occasion had occurred four years ago when she'd refused to talk William into applying for a place at Sandhurst instead of going to Oxford University.

William had never wanted a career in the army. From the moment she'd bought him a Peterkin Doctor's Medical Carry Case, he'd become fascinated by medicine and had wanted to become a doctor.

For years, Kurt had assumed that their son would become an army medic, combining his love for medicine with his father's dream of having his son follow in his footsteps.

William had surprised his father when he was sixteen by saying that he had no interest in a military career and had steadfastly refused to change his mind.

Kurt had blamed Lillian for making their son soft and then for supporting him in his desire to be an academic instead of a soldier.

When William's place to study Medicine at Oxford had been confirmed, her parents had paid for a two-week skiing holiday for him in the Alps with a group of his school friends, who had likewise been celebrating their educational achievements.

Kurt's anger had reached boiling point when William had received his acceptance letter from the university, but he'd managed to keep a lid on it for several months.

That evening, William had called to tell her that he'd arrived safely in Switzerland and the moment she'd ended the call Kurt's anger had gotten the better of him.

He'd backhanded her across the face more forcefully than he'd done the first time and she'd literally seen stars.

Lillian felt tears flood her eyes at the memory of the way it had violently rocked her head to the side.

There had still been a faint outline of the bruise but the swelling had subsided by the time William had returned.

Her son had taken her gently by the chin and looked at her face before asking what had happened. She'd told him that she hadn't been looking where she was going and had bumped into a doorframe. He'd stared at her for a long time, before giving a brief nod and walking away.

Strangely it had been Kurt's safety she'd feared for that day and not her son's. She had no doubt that William would have beaten his father to a pulp, if she'd confessed the truth.

Kurt had been a surprisingly good father to William once he'd grown out of babyhood.

He'd been immensely proud that his son looked so much like him.

When William had suddenly increased in breadth and height around the age of fourteen, Kurt had introduced him to Brazilian jiu-jitsu.

The two of them had constantly rolled around the mat on the living room floor doing what her husband had said was 'choking out'.

Lillian hadn't liked the rough play at first, worried that William would get hurt, but he'd seemed able to hold his own against his father.

Then one day when he was sixteen, something happened that she hadn't fully understood at first. He'd somehow got his father into a position where Kurt had been totally immovable.

Lillian had seen the disbelief in her husband's eyes and the triumph in her son's.

Kurt had immediately complained that he'd somehow hurt his back and William had released his hold.

They'd never practised the martial art again, but as the weeks went by, Lillian had noticed that Kurt had become almost fearful of their son. She'd always heard that bullies were the biggest cowards and Kurt had proved it to be true.

He hadn't dared take his anger out on William for going to Oxford instead of Sandhurst, so he'd vented it on Lillian as soon as he'd confirmed that their son had landed safely in the Alps.

He must have thought that two weeks would be an ample time for her face to fully heal. He hadn't catered for the delicate skin that came along with her fiery red hair.

It had been fortunate that she'd hidden the worst of the damage with a skilful application of concealer. Even then her son had noticed the blemish.

It had been hard to meet her son's concerned eyes and lie to him outright, but she couldn't have let him ruin his life by pummelling his father to death, although he'd thoroughly deserved a good beating up.

Kurt had tried to hide his brutish ways from their son, as he had done her relatives, but Lillian suspected that William had seen right through his father.

He must have also sensed that she was being kept a virtual prisoner by his father, although there were no visible bonds.

The one thing Lillian had done was ensure that her son grew up to be kinder and more loving than his father.

Kurt hadn't been happy when she and William had played chess, Connect 4, Scrabble or worked on large jigsaw puzzles that had taken them days, sometimes weeks, to complete.

His father had tried to interest William in both football and rugby, but their son hadn't enjoyed playing or watching either.

Kurt had been upset that he and William hadn't bonded over sport on television as most fathers and sons would. He'd been vastly relieved when William had taken to Brazilian jiu-jitsu so well.

Since starting Oxford, their son had taken up rowing and had been part of the crew that had sadly lost to their rival Cambridge in March.

Most people who had known her and Kurt had assumed that they had a perfect marriage and would have thought her a lucky woman. She had a lovely home with everything she needed for her comfort, a husband who loved nothing better than to take her shopping and a well-behaved son who excelled at school.

To Lillian, it had been like living in a gilded cage.

The only reason she'd never broken free and run with her son was knowing that Kurt had been vindictive enough to hurt her parents or her siblings or anyone else she'd left behind.

But that was the past, she reminded herself now.

At forty she was still young, she reasoned.

Marriage was out of the question—she never wanted to be under another man's control.

And so were children.

She'd wanted a daughter, or even another son desperately, but Kurt had decided that one child was enough. He'd been jealous of her attention to William when he was a baby. A year after his birth, he'd ordered Lillian to have her tubes tied to ensure that they had no more children.

When she'd suggested that he had a vasectomy instead, he'd given her a look that warned her that the topic wasn't up for discussion and she would pay dearly, if she persisted.

Marriage and children weren't in the cards, but she was still young enough to go to university, pursue her degree and have the teaching career she'd always wanted.

She was free at last!

A tidal wave of relief filled her chest and erupted before she could stifle it.

Almost immediately her bedroom door opened with a soft creak and William switched on the light.

"Mum?" her son questioned, his voice filled with concern.

She realized then that she was crying and tried to strangle her sobs.

It was the first time he'd seen her show emotion since his father's death.

"I'm okay, darling," she said, sitting up and trying to give him a reassuring smile.

"Mum?" he said again, but this time his voice held a different note.

She was suddenly conscious that her top half was bare and his eyes were riveted on her 36GG breasts.

Last August they'd gone to Barbados to celebrate both Kurt's 45^th birthday and William's 21^st which had been nine days apart.

Lying on a deck chair on the beach one afternoon with Kurt snoring beside her, sleeping off the effects of too many Caribbean beers the night before, Lillian had looked up suddenly and caught her son's eyes on her breasts.