Mom, Aunt Clara & My Wandering Mind Pt. 01

She's insane! How can she sit there and say that kind of stuff? The nerve! The audacity! The unmitigated gall! Wait, wasn't that a line from a movie? Dammit, Andy, focus! You're supposed to be angry, here! Not thinking of movie quotes.

"Oh my god, Clara. That's all you're saying, huh?" Mom asked emphatically.

"Yes. That's basically all I'm saying... But again, there are certain... other therapies... that can help with that, too. I'm just not sure you'd be willing to try them."

"Why do you keep saying that?" Mom took exception. "I only want what's best for Andy, whatever that means."

"See! I wasn't even talking about Andrew just now. I was talking about you getting laid! But regarding Andrew, I know you say you'd do whatever it takes, but here we are. He's eighteen and about to go off to college and what have you tried?" Aunt Clara hesitated to say more.

Mom grunted in mounting frustration. "Fine. How 'bout you tell me what this therapy is and let me decide for myself, Clarissa?" Mom insisted. "I'm a grown-ass woman, you know."

Clarissa? Aunt Clara's name is actually Clarissa? I had no idea.

"Hm... I don't know..." Aunt Clara sidestepped. "I... I shouldn't have even mentioned it."

"Get off your high horse, Clara! Give me some credit, already," Mom demanded. "Tell me what these damn 'alternative therapies' are."

"Well... okay... But remember, you asked for it," Aunt Clara warned.

I adjusted my weight to lean a little bit closer, but my bare foot landed on something dry and crunchy and made a crazy loud noise. I lifted my foot to find the dry dusty carnage of a former-cheerio cereal stuck to the heel of my foot.

Who eats cereal in the hallway? I asked myself silently. Wait, was it me? Late last night? When I got up in the middle of the night for a snack?

I scanned my memory to recall if I'd done that. Video games until, like, midnight... SportsCenter after that... I do sometimes get up for a late-night snack but cereal wasn't usually my first choice. Oh, yeah. I guess it was me, I remember now. We were out of everything good last night and cereal was all that was left. And not even a good cereal at that.

I glanced back toward the living room and realized they hadn't heard the crunch so loud as I did nor had they been alerted to my presence. So, I leaned in again.

"It's not illegal if no one finds out," Aunt Clara said quietly. "And, honestly, who's going to tell? You? Andrew? I can assure you I wouldn't."

What's not illegal? If no one finds out what? What did I just miss?!

"But Clara! That's... It's..." Mom gasped.

"I said you wouldn't do it, didn't I?" Aunt Clara defended. "Well, it's not for the faint of heart, Mary. Ugh, I knew I shouldn't have told you. You can never say I recommended it, either. You promised."

What isn't for the faint of heart? I wondered, cursing myself for getting so distracted by a stupid piece of cereal on the floor.

"Well, I haven't ruled it out completely, okay? It's just... well, it just seems so extreme."

"It is extreme. But it works... ahem... or so I've been told ," Aunt Clara's tone made it sound like she had to say that last bit as if it was a disclaimer to cover her ass.

"It might be the best therapy, Mary, to be perfectly frank," Aunt Clara continued. "If not for him, then for you," she laughed with a huff that sounded almost sinister.

"Oh, Clara, I don't know..." It sounded like Mom was considering the idea, whatever it was, though not entirely comfortable with it. "I mean, it does sound... intriguing..." Mom's voice trailed off to la-la land like I imagined mine often did.

"Just keep it in mind," Aunt Clara cut into my stepmom's wandering thoughts. "If you reach a breaking point, and I fear that you're close, just know it's an option."

WHAT'S an option?! I was going mad with wonder. Whatever it was, it made Mom uneasy and that made me even more so. Ooh! The Grinch! That's where that quote came from! What scene was that...? I zoned out again for a few minutes—how many exactly, I wasn't sure.

"Distraction doesn't have to be sexual," Aunt Clara continued. "It's just the most potent kind. It could be a tv show in the background or a completely arbitrary memory that pops into his head. But there are countless other things his condition could be related to. Things other than his constant masturbation or the temptation of that hot piece of ass next door."

What?! When had they discussed my jerking off habits?! How had I missed that?! And did she just refer to Nadia Swenson as a hot piece of ass?'

"Clara, keep it down," Mom tried to hush her. "He might hear you"

"Oh, whatever. I'm sure Andrew already knows how often he masturbates. It's probably the only thing he never forgets to do," I imagined Aunt Clara rolling her eyes at my 'less enlightened' mom. I heard her sigh before continuing.

"My guess," Aunt Clara continued, "is that he's got a low attention span."

"He's always had that. Since way before puberty."

"Yes, but couple that with the sexual frustration of a hot-blooded eighteen-year-old male? Ha! This sort of thing happens more than you'd think! Tack on that he's still an untapped virgin and... hmm... yeah... " Aunt Clara seemed to be drifting like I often did.

"But hey, you know what? I'm just a mother and professional psychotherapist treating college-aged males for most of my career. What do I know? You're probably right, Mary. It's probably nothing to be worried about and he'll probably grow out of it."

"Except... you don't believe that, do you?" Mom asked.

"Let's just say I'd exhaust all options before leaving it to chance, just like I had to with Patrick."

"Really?" Mom asked in surprise. "You had to with Patrick?"

"He was a lot like Andy," she paused as if to let it sink in. "But... I'm not trying to tell you what to do. You know, everyone's different and maybe your young man will outgrow it."

"Yeah, but how can you know?"

"That's just it. You can't. That's why I did what I did."

Did what?! What the fuck did you do?!" I was beside myself with frustration and anger, mostly at myself, for missing the most important parts of the conversation.

"We could have some tests run at the clinic, though. Some of my colleagues are doing research and teaching. I'm sure they wouldn't mind another test subject."

"Okay, sure. Let's do it. We can go any time next week. Just tell me when and I'll make sure we're there. Any tests at all," Mom consented enthusiastically.

"Tests?!" I shouted, poking my head from behind the corner of the hallway finally had my fill of all the mysterious talk about me.

"Oh, honey!" Mom yipped in surprise, then flustered at the realization I'd been listening in. "Andy! Oh my! You... you..." She acted like she'd been caught red-handed doing something wrong and searching for a deflection. "You know it's not nice to eavesdrop!"

"It's not nice to talk about someone behind their fucking back either," I snapped back in a not-so-pleasant tone. "And what is this 'test' bullshit you're signing me up for without even asking me? I'm not a child anymore, you know! That's fucked up!"

"Well... I suppose that's true," Mom admitted quietly.

Aunt Clara's face turned stern. "It's also not nice to talk back to your mother! How dare you use that kind of language with your mom! And with another lady present! It's also not nice to sneak up on people, Andrew! Or to scare them half to death! Or spy on them! It's all deplorable! Apologize! Apologize, this instant, young man!"

I hadn't seen Aunt Clara riled up like that before. It was like she had snapped and turned into someone else at hearing me backtalk my stepmom.

"You know I didn't mean to scare you, Mom," I said dismissively.

"It's okay, Andy," Mom quietly assured me.

"What? No! It most certainly is not okay! That wasn't even an apology!" Aunt Clara's voice was still raised, still threatening in her tone. "You should both be ashamed!"

"Me?" Mom's face looked surprised. "What did I do?"

"You can't let him speak to you like that, Mary. He's your son for chrissakes. You're his mother. If my son Patrick ever spoke to me that way, he'd be over my knee before he ever got the chance to say 'sorry.' You deserve more respect than that!" She nodded her head accusingly in my direction.

"This is the discipline I said you were lacking, Mary! He has no appreciation at all for what you do for him. The hours you've cried at night. The long calls we've had trying to find ways to help him. Putting your love life on hold because you wanted to take care of him." Aunt Clara pointed a derisive finger in my direction. "But does he appreciate it? No! He has zero gratitude for all that you've sacrificed. None at all!"

Before Aunt Clara said another word, I realized she was right—partially, at least—and I felt horrible for talking to my stepmom that way, especially hearing that her sole motivation was to try to help me.

"Mom, I'm sorry..." I started to say before Aunt Clara cut me off. Apparently, she was mid-tirade and nowhere near finishing.

"And you, young man! You shouldn't speak to any woman with that snotty attitude you just showed. But especially not your own mother! You're impertinent and self-absorbed! You have no idea what she's given up for you. Some of her best years. Her career. Her entire social life. Her friends. Her interests. And when was the last time you said thank you? Have you ever?"

"I... I know, Aunt Clara. You're right... You're right about everything."

Aunt Clara's ire seemed to calm slightly, though her eyes still looked angry and scrunched like just eaten a sour dill pickle, except there was nothing funny about it.

"I'm sorry... to both of you," I said sincerely. "I really am. But especially you, Mom. You've done more for me than I'll ever know. And I've taken you for granted. I'm... I'm sorry for all that stuff Aunt Clara said. All of it."

"Now that was an apology, Mary," Aunt Clara huffed. "Don't ever accept less. And don't be afraid to spank his sorry ass the next time he disrespects you!"

"Spank me?!" I protested.

"Spank him?" Mom nearly choked just saying the words.

"Of course, spank him! He certainly deserves it. Why the hell not?" Aunt Clara asked as if it was a silly question.

"Oh, I don't know, " answered snarkily, "because I'm fucking eighteen?!"

"Again, with the language! Did your apology mean nothing? Where is your integrity? You live in this house, don't you?" Aunt Clara's face was red with renewed fury. "As long as you do, you abide by the rules. Don't like them? Move out!"

Considering that her son Patrick had recently moved out, I wondered if this wasn't the first time Aunt Clara had thrown down such an ultimatum.

Fortunately, this wasn't Aunt Clara's house. It was Mom's. Her house. Her rules. And my stepmom hadn't spanked me since she caught me with Dad's old playboys he'd left stashed in the garage. That was back in middle school and about a year after he'd left us to fend for ourselves.

"Well?" Aunt Clara directed a very pointed look toward my stepmother.

"Well... what?" Mom asked, either unsure of what Aunt Clara was suggesting, or maybe, wanting to hear it spoken out loud.

"Are you going to spank him or not?"

"What?!" I snapped. "This isn't your fucking house! You don't make the rules here! Who the hell do you think you are coming here and..."

"Stop it!" Mom shouted abruptly with the tone of an angry drill sergeant. "Andrew! Shut up! And come here right now!"

"What?! Why?!" To say I was flustered would be a huge understatement. Mom rarely raised her voice at me but when she did, she meant business. And she hadn't merely raised her voice, it seemed she had snapped, too. Her face had already turned nearly as red as Aunt Clara's.

"Get your butt over here now and assume the position!" Mom demanded.

"But... Mom! You can't be serious!"

"Now, goddammit! Your Aunt Clara's right. You've been unappreciative and very disrespectful and it's high time that changed!"

"No! No fucking way! You can't be serious! You're... you're not!" I half-declared, half-questioned.

The expression on Mom's face didn't relent. If anything, it grew more stern, more insistent.

"Mom, please no," my tact quickly changed to begging. "Please don't do this. It's humiliating, Mom. I'm all grown up now and..."

"It's every bit as humiliating as you disrespecting your mother," Aunt Clara interjected without being asked.

Bitch, I'd somehow kept the thought inside my head. I so wanted to scream "You stay out of this! You've already butted in enough!" But from the look on Mom's face, I knew it would only make matters even worse. So, I tried to ignore Aunt Clara and appeal directly to Mom.

"I said I was sorry, Mom. You know I meant it. I promise I'll do better. I didn't mean to..."

"I'm counting to three and if you're not over here..."

"In front of Aunt Clara?!" I shouted in protest.

"NOW or I'll get a belt! One..."

"A belt?!"

"TWO!"

Reluctantly, I shuffled over to my stepmother and started to lower myself on her knees.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Aunt Clara asked snottily.

Bitch! You fucking bitch! Again, only in my head.

I froze half bent over. "Mom. Please, no," I begged. "Please don't make me..."

"You haven't forgotten how this works, Andy. Stop being so obstinate and drop your drawers. Now!"

I straightened myself up and lowered down my shorts, my boxers still preserving my modesty as my shorts fell to my ankles. I started to bend over again.

"Ah, ah, ah," Aunt Clara interjected unwelcomingly again, this time in a mocking sing-song voice.

Fucking hell, you're such a bitch! No wonder your son moved out, Aunt Clara! (Yes. In my head.)

I glanced to Mom, imploring her without words to permit me this last shred of propriety.

"Either you do it or I will," Mom threatened unwaveringly.

Suddenly, I found myself nearly in tears and not even a single blow had landed yet. I turned myself sideways to hide my man bits from view and grudgingly lowered my boxers to my knees.

At once, I felt them yanked the rest of the way down until they joined my shorts at my ankles. I quickly bent over, hoping to save some dignity, sprawling myself across Mom's lap and burying my face in the seat cushion.

How did this happen? How'd it get to this point?! Why was she even here? I hate you, Aunt Clara. This is all your fault. You stupid, fucking bi...

SMACK!

The cauldron of toxic thoughts that had started stewing in my brain evaporated in an instant, replaced with nothing but the shock, the pain, and the utter humiliation of being spanked by my mother in the presence of my aunt.

SMACK!

The other cheek got it this time and with equal effect. The fact that it stung was further amplified by the sheer volume of the strike from her bare hand. The sharp cracking sound reverberated off the walls and hardwood floors.

SMACK!

SMACK!

SMACK!

In short order, I was wiggling and rubbing and writhing on Mom's lap. And though I knew I couldn't get away, I nevertheless squirmed on her lap more hysterically with each and every blow. The stings worsened as my tender skin reddened until I could hardly stand it anymore. I threw my hands back in an attempt to shield them from any further onslaught.

"No, you don't!" Aunt Clara barked and I felt Mom's position beneath me change slightly.

Aunt Clara had gotten up and come around to my front, yanking my hands away from my butt and pulling them straight and outstretched over my head.

I fought frantically against my aunt, desperately trying to free even just one hand while Mom continued her punishment of my ass. I wobbled wildly on Mom's legs, my penis and balls smashing and sliding and writhing against her thighs as my body scooted closer to her knees.

I'd nearly fallen onto the floor when Mom interrupted her spanks long enough to yank me by my side and slide me back into place, my penis sliding along her thigh until it stopped where her bare skin met the hem of the boy shorts she was wearing.

"That's enough fighting!" Aunt Clara shouted angrily, then reached down to the hem of my t-shirt, pulling it up over my arms, strangling them against my head, and immediately thwarting my ability to fight her anymore. Still, she held my wrists fixedly while Mom continued to assault my already screaming butt cheeks.

All I could do was yell into the t-shirt now tightly wrapped around my face and tiringly wiggle my hips against my stepmother's lap.

"Please, stop!" I wailed, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I won't disrespect you again! Please! Plea—pl—please!"

Mom grunted as she spanked, letting out what seemed like years of pent-up frustration.

Tears streamed from my eyes, quickly wetting then drenching my t-shirt. I whimpered between gasping breaths.

Had I really been that bad? And beyond just today? People don't snap like this unless it's been built up over time.

"Mom! Please stop! I'm sorry!" I blubbered, my eyes stinging from the torrent of tears and my sniffling nose leaking snot onto my upper lip. "Mommy, please!" I vainly cried in a last-ditch appeal to her motherly instincts.

Maybe I have been an ungrateful son, as selfish and disrespectful as Aunt Clara said. The realization crushed what little defiant spirit I had left. All I wanted to do was say sorry to my stepmom, over and over and over again.

With my body fully restrained and my resistance wore thin, I found myself surrendering to the punishment I deserved.

The pain was still there. My body still writhed with each successive slap. But the rebellion was over. I deserved what I was getting. I probably deserved worse. My stepmom definitely deserved better.

She'd accepted me as her own when my real mother wouldn't. She loved me and cared for me and nurtured me as if I was born of her womb, even though I wasn't. And when the other half of my douchebag biological parents left me, she stayed. Still, she loved me. Still, she sacrificed for me.

At once, the spankings stopped and Aunt Clara released my hands. They fell to the floor as if they'd lost all their muscle. I whimpered and sobbed on Mom's lap, still rubbing myself against her legs as if she was still spanking me, though she wasn't, until I was ordered to stand.

At some point during my flailing, my boxers had fallen away completely, along with my shorts, and my t-shirt was still twisted awkwardly around my neck and arms. Basically, I was stark naked from my armpits to my toes. I wriggled my shirt down and covered my crotch with both hands as I rose, facing Aunt Clara.

It was then that I realized, amidst all of the rubbing and flailing I'd done across Mom's lap, that my penis had gone erect—every bit as hard as it was most mornings when I woke up. My humiliation was complete, or so I thought at that moment. There's no way she hadn't known. No way she hadn't felt it. And since Aunt Clara was standing in front of me, I was sure she'd gotten an eyeful, too.

"Go stand in the corner," Mom ordered. "Face the wall and don't make a sound!"

I sniffled as I shuffled to the corner. What the hell's wrong with me!? I cursed at myself for getting an erection while being spanked.

"You'd better not forget this," Mom commanded. "Don't ever disrespect me again. Don't ever sneak up on me! Or eavesdrop, either!"