It's Friday Again

By the time I was in my second year of high school, my father had become a real son of a bitch. Demeaning, domineering, doing everything he could to sink the self esteem of his worthless son. Fortunately, my dad wasn't around that much; otherwise his habitual hazing would have driven me from home long before.

This was in the 1970's, when runaways could still find rides and unskilled jobs wherever they went. Not that I was unskilled; I got adequate grades in school, I was a pretty good carpenter's helper from summer work, and model construction had made me so good with fine work that I could fabricate about anything you could dream up. So running away didn't scare me. I would get by.

But it never reached that point; instead, Dad started spending more and more time out "on the road." Business trips here, business trips there until he was coming home only on the weekends, or sometimes every other weekend. It saved my sanity, but boy, you could feel the tension rise in the household as those weekends drew near.

So it came as no particular surprise one night when Dad announced his marriage was at an end and he was dumping Mom, and us.

"For the sake of the kids," he intoned, "we will be staying together until the kids are out of school. But the day Katie graduates from high school I am out of here and you can all go to hell."

Typical Dad. This wasn't something he and Mom had fought about and worked out. He simply decided it one day and announced it in the middle of dinner. Mom was as surprised as we were.

If any of you are thinking of doing this, of staying in a loveless marriage "for the sake of the kids" ...don't. It's a slow psychological torture for those kids. End it all and move on.

But not dear old Dad. He had four more years of abuse to drop on us before he moved on. 'Katie Graduation Day' shone in the distance like a beacon of freedom for all of us; probably for Dad too.

I will give this to the bastard; until that date, he and Mom actually were married. Fidelity he might not be able to manage, but the other obligations he could. Bills were paid, the mortgage knocked down, college funds were funded and tuitions covered.

Mom wasn't a doormat for Dad, either. She'd had notice; she knew her marriage was coming to an end, no matter how seriously she took it and her loyalty to her wedding vows. It was simply the relationship that was dead; the marriage was real until that four-year deadline passed.

So Mom threw herself into her preparations for the future, with the same commitment that she'd thrown into making us a home.

She immediately enrolled at the local liberal arts university, hitting her studies with such focus that by the time Katie graduated high school, Mom had completed her bachelors degree, a masters degree in Psychology and a good chunk toward her doctorate. Dad just blinked in befuddlement at the tiny tornado he'd unleashed and wrote the tuition checks.

Following her example, I buckled down in high school and then hit my studies at the same university with Mom-inspired seriousness. I never reached the academic heights that Mom achieved, but not from lack of trying. Katie's grades went up too. And Dad? He stayed safely away except for the occasional weekend. Life at home grew better for all concerned.

...

I assumed the relationship of Mom and Dad was dead and gone, but I found out otherwise about three years after Dad's announcement. I was taking a ten-minute break from my studies and wandered into the kitchen about eleven at night. The house was dark but the under-cabinet lights were on. I stopped, blinking.

"Mom? What are you doing?"

"Oh, Evan!" She jumped in surprise. "I didn't expect you..." She put her glass of water down on the counter.

"What are you wearing?" I asked, goggling. Instead of her short frilly nightdress, she was wearing a sheer negligee so transparent that it did nothing to block my vision of her. Her arms came up to cover her breasts, but not before I'd gotten a view of medium-sized breasts and big pink areolas.

Seen through the sheer panties, her bush was as curly as her head. She tried to turn away, but that just gave me a nice view of her cute buttocks.

"Why are you dressed like that?" I couldn't wrap my head around this version of my mom, blushing and obviously dressed for sex.

"Well, it is Friday night."

"What does that have to do with it?" A realization hit me. "Are you and Dad still...you know...after all this?"

Mom turned back toward me and my eyes fastened on her pubis, on the triangle of brunette curls between her plump thighs. "Now honey, we are still married. That means he still has certain...rights in the bedroom. And Friday is when he takes advantage of them."

She ducked her head and her blush deepened. "And...so do I. He uses me and I get to use him. However we get along doesn't mean we don't need to get together now and then."

I was seeing a side of Mom I'd never seen before...not to mention seeing her body as never before. This was Mom preparing to have sex. She was going to go into that bedroom and have that filmy negligee taken off her and then...

"Good night, Evan." She turned to go past me and her bare arm brushed mine. A thrill shot through me and I reached out, taking her wrists and turning her toward me. Her body glowed in the kitchen lights, full and round and soft. Perfect tiny nipples were centered in her big areolas, and a flush extended from her neck down between her breasts. A faint line of fine hair led down her tummy to a shockingly big mound, hidden beneath wispy curls. Her plump thighs were slightly parted and I ached to press my finger into those curls.

She was the epitome of earth mother, as potent and primal as the Willendorf figure. I had instantly gone hard and my boxers tented out toward her.

She gently pulled free from me and started up the stairs to the bedrooms. "Good night, Evan," she repeated. I watched her bottom rise into the darkness, struck speechless.

I should describe my mom. When I compare her to the Willendorf figure, I'm not kidding. She's a tiny thing, only about 5'2" and shaped like a beach ball. She has always had a big belly, even when she was young, but there's nothing flabby about her. Her legs are full and smooth, her bottom small and firm compared to her waist. She's soft and warm and I now realized, very, very sexy. A perfect earth mother.

Like Dad, I'm about six foot tall and Mom only comes up to my shoulder. My mind boggled thinking about how she and Dad managed to fit together in bed. But now I pictured her short little legs raised high, straining to hug his hips as he pushed into her big soft mound and warm, loving pussy, over and over again.

A memory came to me, one I had not thought of for many years. When I was about six, I'd gotten up in the middle of the night for something...a sound was coming through the open door.

I followed it down the hall, fear rising in me. A rhythmic sound filled the hallway; the sound of my parent's big bed being slammed and great gusts of air like a running horse. And under it all, my mother crying out: "Oh! Oh! Oh!" To my young ears it sounded like a giant gorilla was jumping up and down on the bed.

"Mom?" I quavered. The sound continued, slamming and crying and a deep breathy "Huh! Huh! Huh!"

"Mommy?" The bed stopped, though my mother continued her quiet little cries for a few seconds. "Mom? Are you all right?"

Dad cleared his throat, trying to find his voice. "You...your mom's okay son. Go back to bed."

"Mommy?"

My mom raised her voice. "Everything's all right, Evan. I'm okay. Go back to bed."

I waited by the door. Everything was quiet, then the bed began making noise again and the grunting resumed.

I went back to bed.

...

I hadn't thought of that memory since I was that little kid. Now when I thought of it I realized, they were fucking! They were fucking like crazy! As though it had just happened, I could hear the passion in my mother's love cries and my dad's heaving breath. Realization dawned in me. "Damn...my parents were hot!"

I turned out the kitchen lights and went up to my room. On the way, I passed the door to Mom and Dad's room. I stopped.

Katie wasn't a worry; she always went to bed early and rose early, sleeping like a log in between. I wouldn't be disturbed.

Breathing as quietly as I could, in spite of my racing heart, I listened at the door. Nothing at first...then the murmur of voices. And then it began: the rhythmic sound of bodies on the mattress. Nowhere near as powerful and heedless as when they were young, but still...but still...

After a minute, I heard Mom begin quiet little love cries. Much more discreet than I remembered, but it was still enough to tent my shorts again.

The sound paused and there was a rustling of bedsheets, then my mom gasped. The humping resumed and her cries began again, an octave higher than before. Her cries became squeaks, and then began rising, each squeak a note higher than the one before. Her voice broke into a high soprano "OhhhOhhohohoh" and I knew her orgasm was overtaking her. I couldn't resist; I squeezed my penis through my shorts.

The bedroom sounds stilled to the shifting of bodies and the whisper of my father's voice. I couldn't make out her reply except for the word, ..."finish...?" My dad grunted assent and their bodies shifted again. My mother chuckled and murmured something that cut off with a catch and I knew he had rammed his dick into her loving mouth. I knew it as clearly as if I could see it. She made little 'uh' sounds until he groaned softly and I knew he had come in her. In her sweet mouth.

Well, at least living with two kids had taught them how to fuck more discreetly that when I had first heard them. If I hadn't been listening at their door, I would never have had a clue. I retreated to my room, closed the door and began an all-night jerk-off session that left me sore and exhausted the next morning.

Come morning, Mom was awake before any of us, the kitchen table strewn with papers for a study she was working on. Her energy was always amazing and an inspiration to me. "Gotta get your own breakfast," she said as I kissed her cheek. "I'm behind on this."

I poured a glass of orange juice and dropped an English muffin in the toaster. "Where's Dad?"

"Still asleep. Good for me; it lets me get some work done." I took the hint and moved to the living room to crunch my muffin.

For the rest of the day I looked at my mother with fresh eyes. The old Mom was back, nurturing and supportive, amused and amusing. There was no hint of the Friday night sex kitten, but now I saw it underneath in everything she did. I realized, maybe this was what it was like to have a lover, to know all these layers underneath that other people couldn't see.

Like in the movies when someone sticks with someone bad for them, or people say, "What does she see in him?" Maybe it's because all these hidden layers show through when you really love them.

The same way about Dad I used to wonder, "What does she see in him?" And inside she's thinking, "He brings out the best in me...every Friday night."

After Dad woke up, I even found myself cutting him some slack. I reasoned that anyone who can make Mom orgasm like that can't be all bad.

...

Dad was away during the week, but swung back into town Friday afternoon. I found my excitement growing during the day, and as the evening was wrapping up I slid next to her and whispered, "Just before you go to bed...come to the kitchen." She didn't reply, but my heart raced just saying the words to her.

And she came! She came! After the house was settled for the night, she went up to her room...and came back down for a glass of water.

I looked at her hungrily. "Mom," I said hoarsely. "That's the same negligee you wore last week."

She giggled. "It could be bright green and your father wouldn't notice. It has a body in it, that's all he sees."

I pulled her close to me and my erection pressed against her tummy. "I'd notice," I growled, "...and I love how you look in it." My arm circled her waist and my other hand covered her breast.

I thrilled at the feel of her little nipple, so stiff against the palm of my hand. "When you go to him..." I breathed in her ear. "When you're with him, think of me. Because I'm going to be thinking of you." I kissed the side of her neck and let her go.

As she climbed the stairs to their room, Mom had to steady herself. I knew how she felt; my legs were shaky too as I took my place by their door.

I'd waited, turning out the lights and giving them time to get preliminaries out of the way before I lightly pressed my ear to their door. Sounds. What were the sounds? My mind struggled to make a picture from what I heard. Gasps and breaths, sighs and shiftings. Suddenly my mother gave a loud moan.

My dad made a shushing sound. "I don't care," she moaned into her pillow. "Do me like this. It makes me feel slutty...and I want to feel slutty." There was a shifting sound on the bed, and then it began. Their bodies began their rhythmic motion and Mom began a "huh huh huh" sound.

I no longer needed to press my ear to their door; I leaned against the door jamb with my eyes closed, living through my ears. My hand squeezed the shaft of my erection, but nothing more. That would come later. Now was about hearing everything I could.

Mom's sounds grew into gasps and cries and my hand squeezed my penis even harder. Then suddenly she was wailing out her orgasm into her pillow.

Bless his heart, my dad waited for her orgasm to percolate through her before he began to move again. She must have risen to her hands and knees, because this time her voice was clear and unobstructed.

He tried to quiet her again and she said, "I don't care! I don't care who hears me! Everyone's asleep and I want you to fuck me the way we used to! Hammer Fuck me, Don!"

Again, the sound of rolling bodies and then it began, just as I remembered it. The heavy sound of the bed being slammed as six feet of my father drove his dick down into my Mom's round little body. His breath began to chuff and Mom's cries began, "Oh!! Oh!! Oh!!"

I had to see. There was no way I could disturb them now; I'd have to be standing over them with a flashlight to get their attention. I tried the door gently. It was unlocked.

I eased the door open carefully, though I knew they would never hear a creak. The sound doubled, the noise of their mating filling the room.

And the scents! It was the aroma of perspiration and my Mom's pussy juices and their mingled breaths, of hormones and pheromones and god knows what else. It filled the room just like their love sounds. It was wonderful.

It was dark in the room, but the glow from the windows made it lighter than the hallway. Just as I had pictured it, Mom's plump little legs were up in the air, straining to stretch around the slamming hips of my father. His body was rigid, riding on his toes and elbows as his pelvis pounded my mom into the mattress. Silhouetted against the window, Mom's toes splayed as another orgasm tore through her. Dad pounded on uncaring.

In spite of what I'd whispered to her earlier, I knew my mom wasn't thinking about me. Her whole world was the man between her thighs, the penis pounding into her pussy. With the door opened, I could hear the juicy sound of her pussy being fucked. I longed to taste those juices, even while he was fucking her. To tongue the juice from her pussy, and yes, even his dick while they slapped together.

As I watched, she climaxed again, screaming, "Oh god! Oh god! Oh Don!!" Dad was getting close now too, his great horse breaths now turning to rhythmic groans.

Suddenly his hips slammed down as deep in her as he could as he emptied in her. Mom's legs spread in a wide rigid V and her fingers dug in his upper back. "Oh Donny!" she cried.

I took one last photograph with my mind: her heels resting on his ass as they rocked gently side to side. Then I eased out of the room and closed the door silently. I leaned on the wall, trying to get my breath back and still my hammering heart.

I staggered back to my room, my head spinning as though drunk. Closing the door, I tore off my shorts and fell to my knees, my chest across the bed.

Grabbing my dick with both hands, I began to hump frantically. In my mind it was Mom I was fucking, her soft thighs hugging me and her pussy gripping me like a vice. I'd never masturbated like that before, bent over the bed and humping my hands. But it felt right, and in minutes I was blowing my load onto the side of the bed.

I didn't even slow down and soon I was up on my toes, coming again inside my imaginary lover...inside my Mom. Three times; three times I came like that before I was drained and limp. The last time I had shouted out my orgasm, muffling it into the mattress like Mom had done.

Dazed, I climbed into bed, reminding myself that I was going to have to wash my bedspread in the morning. Maybe I would find Mom at the same time, washing her bedsheets.

My mind whirled, trying to get my head around the events of the evening. I'd been lucky enough to witness a beautiful act of primal lovemaking and I knew I'd never think of sex the same way again. Now I had a new role model to live up to.

It wasn't Dad, I knew that much. I didn't think for a second that he was some sex god. No, he was just the lucky stiff (or the stiff lucky stiff) who got to share his bed with Mom for nineteen years and had all those years of experience getting her off. He was just the penis of the moment, the one that was lucky enough that she had taken her wedding vows to. And now he was throwing it all away and dumping Mom for whatever he had on the side.

No, it was Mom. The more I knew of her, the more there was to love. At first there was a child's greedy acceptance of her warm maternal love. As life threw us curves, I saw her fierce defense of us and her resilience. And when it was finally unleashed, I was awed by her drive and intellect.

And now...and now. Now I was witness to her femininity and primal sexuality. I only hoped that someday in the future I might find a girl of my own who might have a little bit of what I now saw in my mother. A woman like that...a woman like that I could love forever.

...

The next morning, I wandered down to breakfast at the usual nine AM. Dad was still snoring away and Katie was long gone to soccer practice. Mom, of course, had her papers spread across the kitchen table and a textbook in her lap. She looked up from her studies and asked, "Sweetie, can I make breakfast for you?"

I looked around the the kitchen and didn't see any signs of cooking. "Let me make some for you, Mom."

"Why, that would be nice," she smiled. "I never remember until I'm deep into this."

I prepared eggs over easy, bacon and hash browns, making sure to set aside a portion for Dad. I sat next to Mom, balancing my plate on another textbook. We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Finally, she looked around and then whispered to me, "I heard you last night."

I almost choked on my food. How on earth could she have heard me in their room? They were so noisy I couldn't have heard myself!

"You did?" I asked, trying to keep the guilt from my face.

She nodded, blushing bright in the sunlight from the window. "About an hour after we went to bed. I was checking on Katie and I passed your door." She shook her head. "Wow, Evan, you are something."

I smiled in relief that she hadn't caught me in her room. "I was inspired," I confessed. "I heard a little something myself last night."

She lightly laid her hand on mine. "Well, in that case, let's just call it even." She went back to her studying and I did the dishes. Though I did notice her sneaking a glance at the bulge in my pajamas.