Mom is a Mess

"Listen, mister, I'm pretty sure I just gave you more than one reason to believe this old gal still has a few tricks up her sleeve."

I gawked at her brazen brag, but couldn't deny its truth. "Fair enough. And you aren't old. Even if you were, you sure don't look like it."

Mom smiled and blushed. "'Nuf sweet talk, hun. Let's get out of this place. I'm sick of it!"

"How do you propose we do that?"

Mom had a plan. Just like she always had a plan. I watched her circle the room, collecting our dirty clothes in a plastic bag then fetching her purse and a stack of folded white cloth. She handed me her keys and unfurled an apron from the pile.

"Be a dear and put this on and bring the car around. I'll lock up and hop in once I see you pull up."

"Alright," I said, not seeing the sense in arguing. It was either that or step back into those slimy jeans and I wasn't prepared to revisit that trauma. I donned the apron and took the key to the car and left out the back door. It was late, and our sleepy highway town had maybe two hundred inhabitants, so there wasn't any fear of being discovered with my arse hanging out looking like I'd just committed a massacre at a hotdog eating contest.

I hopped into Mom's old Buick and fired it up. I cranked the heat; the night air was cold and entirely too much of my skin was showing. I pulled around front, as close to the door as I could, and waited patiently for Mom to appear in the window and the heater to warm up. Coincidentally, both happened at the same moment as I saw the lights flick off and her stained-panty-clad butt flash me while she turned to lock the door. I reached over and opened the car for her, shoving the door out so she could slide right in. Thankfully, I saw she'd grabbed my backpack; I'd totally forgotten. She was always so good at things like that; looking out for me. I'd be screwed if I lost that laptop and she knew it. Like she knew everything else about me.

"Thanks," I said as she dove into the Buick and set our dirty clothes and my pack on the back seat.

"Sure thing, hun. Let's go. I've never wanted to take a shower so bad before."

"Tell me about it," I agreed as I shifted the ancient vehicle back into gear and pointed us homeward. About halfway through the short journey, I heard that angelic sound again; the one I hadn't heard in ages. Mom was laughing. Tears streamed down her face and I found myself again unable to resist joining her in ridiculous revelry. Barely able to keep the heavy swaying car on the road, I zigged and zagged, nearly taking out the neighbor's mailbox while uproariously cackling alongside the woman who meant more to me than anything. My insides hurt by the time we pulled into the driveway and I could barely see to open the front door of our small two-story house.

Mom fell against me as we stumbled inside and I wrapped an arm around her shaking hips. She stilled and twisted her head around; it was her turn to surprise me with a kiss. We held each other locked in place as our mirth melted into lust. Four hands flew up and down, fondling, caressing, and grasping at each other's filthy bodies. Mom ran her fingers through my tousled dirty hair and suddenly broke off our passionate kiss.

"Jax, you have chili in your hair." And with that single line, never before spoken aloud, our lust devolved back into hilarity.

It took several more minutes of belly-aching laughter to finally calm. It was watching Mom that broke my levity and rekindled the flame that she'd sparked that afternoon with a spilled bowl of chicken and dumpling soup. She was filthy and messy and so, so, happy. Despite the stains and ugly smirches, her body called to me again. I admired her quaking breasts and jiggling hips and a narrow waist I'd never before held dear. It was her smooth soft skin, always hidden behind a hard exterior of quiet suffering, that I'd found most fetching; a complex and complicated juxtaposition that boggled my mind and would take me years to unravel. But I had to have her. That I knew for certain. And more than what we'd done in the slop and the stew.

"Let's take a shower."

Mom lifted her wet red eyes at me, her beautiful weathered face still split by a smile, and nodded her head. Let us take a shower, I'd said. And she'd agreed, easy as that.

I followed her upstairs, eyes glued to her stained ass as it bounced and flexed, jiggling with a joy that mimicked her fits of unabashed laughter. She stopped suddenly and I had no chance to save myself. Face first, I planted into her cheeks, my nose sliding over slick stained satin and driving deep into her crack. I smelled chili and barked out a laugh. Mom, of course, was already on the verge of another fit of giggles at my obvious fixation.

"Chili butt!" I proclaimed and gave her a playful swat. Just enough to cause a girlish squeal and a hop and the resulting quivering waves of soft supple flesh that I so desired to behold.

"Nacho dick!" Mom bleated, then turned bright red, nearly matching the paprika stains that streaked her skin.

I roared with laughter, harder than I'd laughed at any point during the past hours of ridiculous tomfoolery; more at her impulsiveness and embarrassed response than at what she'd said. She was acting so different and I loved every second of it.

When we again stopped laughing and Mom made to turn up the stairs, I added one final observation. "It's your fault for always telling me to keep my head down."

Mom guffawed and shook her head. "That's not what that means and you know it!"

I chuckled at my supposed cleverness as we finished our climb together, strolling first into the bathroom as she followed and switched on the light. I threw back the curtain and turned on the water, watching it crash into the porcelain tub.

I felt Mom tug my apron loose and lift it over my head. Her two hands circled my waist and a pair of tingling scratches sent shivers up my spine as Mom's thumbnails turned downward and slipped under the elastic band of my underwear. I stood still while she pushed it down, then shimmied my hips, coaxing the once-white garment to my ankles. I felt her warm hands grasp my bottom, kneading my smooth flesh and sliding from my waist to my hips in slow languid arching movements.

Mom purred in my ear, "My little boy isn't so little anymore."

Fuck! Her mind was as dirty as her body. My cock jumped and swelled instantly. By the time I turned around, it stood at attention and swept a line across her satin panties, coming to rest on her bulging mound. I could feel her protruding hairs prickling through the stained fabric as she twisted her hips, gliding my glans across her body.

"Take my bra off, hun," she said softly and spun a slow one-eighty, artfully maintaining contact with the tip of my cock as it traced a half circle over her broad thigh, coming to rest over the big red blotch that covered her backside precisely where my nose had just been. I took a small step in, wanting to feel her heat again, and slid my length between her soft thighs. She moaned and rolled her shoulders, bringing my focus back to where she wanted it.

Reaching out with conviction, intent on unveiling her final treasures, I quickly pinched and released the clasp over her spine. Mom pushed her arms together and the straps began to slide from her skin but hung up on her sharp collarbone. Ever the attentive son, I set them free. Her bra dropped to the floor and before she could turn, I slid my hands along her sides and to her front, wanting to feel her softness before I laid eyes on it. I touched the tenderness of her two arching swells with my index fingers and slowly lifted, cupping her lush supple mounds with hands that overflowed. I felt her peaks stiffen under my palms and gasped as they rose to prominent points with my soft touch.

I pulled Mom tight, pressing my muscled chest against her back and driving my raging cock into her soiled panties, feeling her humid heat against my shaft for the first time. I kissed her neck and kneaded her softness while thrusting my hips and sliding my shaft between her supple thighs.

"Oh, Jax," Mom moaned, tilting her head back and resting her tangle of messy hair against my shoulder.

I felt her entire body relax in an instant as she gave way to my loving embrace. I longed to see the rare look of peace and contentedness that must have spread across her face at that moment.

Lost in tactile pleasure, I paid no mind to the rising cloud of steam that filled the bathroom. As much as our bodies demanded to be clean, it seemed a much more pressing matter had come between us.

"Take me, Jax. I want you so badly."

It was a command. A ferocious one; spoken in a voice I hadn't heard her use since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. There would be no denying her satiation; just as I could deny her no other thing in life. Not that the thought crossed my mind, nor that it ever would since that fateful night.

I dawdled, still a stupid boy, not wanting to deprive myself of the sensual tactile euphoria I had thrust myself into. But Mom had a plan, as always. And thanks to a decade of training, I still had sense enough to know that when she took control, you got the fuck out of the way and let it happen. Changing her course was tantamount to stepping in front of a speeding train.

Mom dropped her stained panties in a flash, forcing them over my cock which I'd refused to extract from the comforting embrace of her creamy thighs. Down it flexed and back up it sprang, slapping into her wetness with an audible smack. Mom howled and I jumped at the fierceness of her cry. She bent forward and reached between her legs and took me in her hand, guiding me into her center; the place from whence I came. I pushed into the darkness between her puffy lips and sopping pink folds and joined her roaring ruckus as I felt her tight torrid embrace for the first time.

Then all reason was lost. Jaxon had left the building. A latent power came over me and I set in motion the beginnings of an event that would stay burned forever in my psyche. I still don't know what happened, but I lasted; lasted as I'd never thought I could. It was a feat I'd not equal again for a very long time. Maybe it was the two eruptions I'd experienced in that destroyed kitchen. Maybe it was my desire to give Mom my absolute best as I'd always tried to do. Maybe it was the years of cumulative pity and regret that I felt dissolve into nothingness. Maybe it was the distracting sensations of hot slippery wet gripping tightness around my cock. Maybe it was her screams and cries for more, demanding that I continue to feed my length into her hungry worn-out body. Maybe it was the hypnotic rippling of her hips and ass as I careened off her pliable flesh. Maybe it was the thousands of confusing, lewd, beautiful, immoral, joyful, and wanton thoughts that scrambled my brain. Or maybe, it was just Mom.

I cared for naught but the union we shared; the carnal pleasures that we were living for the first time. It was every ounce as sloppy and messy as everything else that happened that day. And Mom...Mom was rocked to her core. Two decades of shit was chipped from her battered facade and fell to the floor with each plunging thrust, much as the chili and cheese had done earlier that evening. And while her body remained covered in the detritus of that savory mixture, all else came clean. Each howling gasp, each shattering climax, each animalistic moan, each thrust of her hips back against mine brought another chunk of her failures and regrets crashing down. Torn to a thousand little pieces by the intensity of our fucking; her mess was no more and she was Mom again.

I'd regale you with the tale of my final gushing eruption, but that seems so unimportant in hindsight. I told you this wasn't a story about me. It was about Mom. And Mom was all that mattered in that glorious moment. She'd finally done it. She'd finally taken what she wanted. She'd finally gotten so pissed off at the world that she reached into its beating chest and torn out what was hers. And that was me. Her and me. It turned out that's all we'd ever needed.

My only regret in all of this is that I should have known. I could have saved her a heap of suffering. But it wasn't my fault; it's just how life is sometimes. Sometimes you have to keep your head down. Sometimes you blink and ten years pass and then you look up and everything is fucked. And sometimes all it takes is a deluge of chili and cheese to finally destroy your last shred of hope so that you can finally rediscover why life is worth living. So I guess it's fair to say I have no real regret. Well, except for the corndog thing. But let's consider that a small price to pay, shall we?

I woke the next morning, my skin raw and red from the intense scrubbing I'd shared with Mom in the bath in the middle of the night. I felt alive, more alive than I ever had. I had to see her again and so I threw on some clothes and bolted downstairs. But she was gone; gone back to work. Gone back to that greasy shithole that I'd trapped her in. It was almost enough to break me; to think that what we'd done the night before might mean nothing in the end. But I wouldn't have that. I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't watch her do it anymore. She'd cleaned her last fucking kitchen.

It was well into the afternoon. I'd slept in. I'm not even sure what time we eventually parted ways. It seemed like we'd lingered in that bath for hours, neither of us wanting it to end. I remember wanting to go to her bed, but I wasn't in a hurry. I knew that would happen in the course of time, and it did. We both needed to be alone for a spell to think about what this all meant without the distraction of the other liquifying our logic. And she needed time to heal. The mess that I'd cleaned off her took pieces of herself with it and she had to sort that out; to come back into balance as the woman she'd long forgotten.

I opened my laptop. It was Saturday; I had no real work or school to do, but I felt the need to cleanse my senses and dive into an activity that was a little less emotional.

I had an email.

Now, you may be tempted to posit that it was the chili and cheese that altered our fate, and I may be tempted to agree, but I would counter by saying that this single ethereal piece of electronic communication was the turning point for everything.

Jaxon,

Your algorithm was a hit. It went all the way to the top. Our best analysts couldn't duplicate what you've managed and so it's with great pleasure that we'd like to offer you a job.

We've just secured investor funding to ensure our company's future and we very much want you to be a part of what's to come. It's an exciting time and we hope you will find the nerve to join us. You'll have to move to Boston, but we feel the package we can offer will more than encourage you to take the leap.

Please read the attached contract and get back to me as soon as possible.

Holy fuck! I couldn't believe it! I opened the document and read the fine print; six figures, signing bonus, moving costs, paid tuition, healthcare, retirement, it was beyond anything I could have ever hoped for. It was freedom. Most importantly, the Gods had given me an opportune chance to save Mom; to clean up her mess once and for all. I could finally show her that everything she poured into my future finally mattered. That I had done it. That I was successful. And that I wanted to share the bounty with her. She'd earned it, after all.

It was my turn to have a plan. It was my turn to take Mom and leave a world of shit in our taillights. And it all came together rather easily.

I printed two copies of the contract. One I signed, scanned, and returned; the other I folded and put in my pocket. I still have that paper. Actually, Mom has it; I gave it to her. I'm looking at it right now; wrinkled, creased, stained, and framed on our bedroom wall.

I packed a bag with clothes for her and me for several days, grabbing what few essentials I knew she'd need. I met the infernal bus and nodded at the malcontent driver for the final time and took my last trip into town. I emptied my bank account. It wasn't much, but it was enough to get us where we needed to be and certainly more than Mom and I had when we landed in this dysfunctional town.

I walked to the diner, duffle and backpack slung over my shoulders, and strolled into that awful place for the ultimate time. I saw where she was, but she didn't see me. Good, I wasn't ready for her yet. I went to the back and found George.

"Hey, Champ."

"Hey, George. Listen, I'm taking Mom away."

"What?!" They'd spent ten years together so I'd expected some resistance.

"I got a job back east. I'm getting us out of here while I can. Sorry, George. I know what you meant to her and for what it's worth, thanks."

George broke into a smile that was epic by even his jovial standards. "Uh, Jax, did I ever tell you why my chili recipe calls for exactly two hundred and thirty-nine beans?"

"No, George," I said, grinning like an idiot.

"Because one more would make it too farty."

Gods I wanted to laugh so hard at that man and his horrible topical brand of humor. But couldn't do it. I cried. I cried like a little boy and felt his strong arms wrap around my shoulders and smelled the greasy french fries he'd spent his life slinging. I knew I'd miss him more than anyone else in that stupid little town. Maybe he could have been the dad I never had. Or maybe that's a story best left for another day. Either way, we shared something at that moment and in doing so, I felt justified to do what I had come to do.

"Bye, George," I said, wiping the tears from my cheeks and grinning like a fool.

"Keep your head up," he said. I almost lost it again. 'Up', he said. Not down. Fuck, it made so much more sense. Had he told Mom that? Had he known the mantra we shared and what it meant to us? And how in that exact room, a little over a dozen hours prior, it all came apart? I'd never know. And I prefer it that way. George was an enigma and it felt right to part on such terms.

Back out in the dining room, I again failed to catch Mom's eye. She was busy helping a couple of haggard old men who I'd never seen before. Truckers probably, we didn't get many other strangers in this part of the world.

Then I saw it. The straw that broke my back. Except unlike Mom, I wasn't so broken as to sit in the slop and bawl. No, I was seeing red, and not the red of spilled chili, the red of unbridled rage.

A crusty oil-stained hand shot out and lifted Mom's skirt. She swatted it away with her pad in a move that looked so practiced and common that my fury doubled in an instant. The hand was back again, grasping at her thigh. Grasping at what was mine. Mom tried to move away, but his grip was too strong. Her ankle twisted and she almost fell. I could see her wince in pain; the wound on her foot had to be agonizing. And I saw the fear in her eyes as she looked around for someone to help her. She saw me then, but I didn't see her. I only saw that son of a bitch; the embodiment of a decade of toil and torture.

I'd like to say that what I did next was for Mom, but it wasn't. She didn't need saving; she'd survived for years dealing with this kind of abuse. No, what I did was entirely for my own catharsis. As Mom had lashed out at the floor when she'd fallen from grace, I lashed out at him. And I only had to do it once. My fist screamed. Mom screamed. The son of a bitch's friend cowered in fear. I spat fire at him and he shrank away like the worthless little shit he was.

I still hadn't seen Mom. I walked behind the counter and grabbed her things and my two bags. I went to the squeaky door and held it open. Then I finally saw her, head held up and walking my way. I didn't have to ask her to come, she just did. After last night, we didn't need this bullshit anymore.