Mother in the Dark

When I finally realize what it is I let instantly go off my cock, push the chair back from the desk into the room and jump up.

'What the...?'

I keep standing there with my feet glued to the floor.

A minute passes by, another one, a third one.

I finally get my bearings back and sit down on the swivel chair. I roll back to the desk, but instead of resuming my porn watching routine, I close the video player and bring up the web browser.

I'm googling 'Halloween costumes'.

Since I'm not sure what I'm actually looking for, I don't know what to search for.

I'm typing 'black Halloween costumes for women'.

I'm still not sure what I'm searching for and why I'm doing this in the first place, because I saw my mother wearing it a couple hours earlier.

Suddenly I remember. I have seen this once before.

I type 'Elvira'.

There we go. Elivra, Mistress of the Dark.

Well, I've got to hand it to my mother as she has got that look down to the detail.

And just as I'm taking another look, a closer look, I know what I'm so freaking out about: it's the cleavage. Not that of Elvira, or Cassandra Peterson, as the actress is called, but my mother's cleavage.

My mind blank and numb, I keep staring at the screen.

Obviously I have never noticed before, and mom hasn't really dressed like this... well... ever, so it's no real funny business that this kind of view took me by surprise, even though it has taken me quite a while to realize.

But approaching this from in a logical way: my mother is a woman, so by its purest definition she has to have the bodily attributes of a woman. The fact that those particular attributes are as big as they are is a freak of nature kind of thing, but in the end it's nothing to freak out about.

There's no need to overthink anything, even though I just sat cock in hand when that picture came to life again in my mind.

[5]

A certain coldness is surrounding me. I can feel its rigid arms around my body, making me tremble and shiver.

I writhe in agony, kick the sheets from the bed onto the floor.

I open my eyes. I'm naked and my freezing skin is drenched in sweat.

I'm on fire.

I roll around once more, trying to focus on what is happening, trying to pinpoint from where the cold emanates, trying to trace the origin of the fire.

My body shivers as my spine cannot control it anymore and like a snake I start to slither.

The floor is like my body, both freezing cold and hot as fire at the same time.

I get up, stand up, look around, and try to let my eyes adjust to the darkness that surrounds me.

I blink, trying to blink the black away, but to no avail.

From deep within my consciousness I can sense panic and fear of the unknown as I fail to comprehend what's going on.

I spin around, uncontrollably, until my head is clouded in a fog of dizziness. While I begin to focus on my breathing I come to a halt.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

I can feel the panic subside. Only fear remains.

The controlled breathing clears my thoughts as I start to focus on my surroundings.

It's still pitch black, but with my feet I can feel the floor of my room now, taking in the familiar touch of flesh on wood.

Instinctively I walk to where the door should be. The fingers on my outstretched right arm begin to search the handle of the door. Alas, I have found it.

I press it down, open the door and step out into the hallway.

Again I'm hoping that my eyes need to adjust to the blackened fog around me, but yet again I'm confined to admire utter dark infinity in its majestic glory.

I hold out my hands to my side as they both soon touch a wall.

Still breathing steadily I let my fingers slide along each wall as I slowly start to walk, one tiny step after the other.

Is this my endless journey? Have the gates of eternity finally opened?

A shiver forcefully runs down from my head to my toes and freezes my every move. My head is spinning, loudness evaporates from deep within.

I put my hands over my ears as voices begin to emerge. A thousand different voices as it seems. I have no will to focus on each and every one of them and I try to black them out. But the harder I try, the louder they become.

Every once in a momentary while one voice seems to fade out all the others. I try to catch it as I feel the urgent need to understand what it is telling me.

But I can't. I don't know which language it is speaking.

Then a moment of clarity invades my mind, lays waste to the feeling of despair, a calmness comes over me, enlightens me as it makes way for this all too familiar sensation of fatality.

I am ready to run towards nothing, no matter what will be awaiting me, but I am stopped in my tracks.

The voices in my head have subsided, replaced by another one now speaking from beyond the darkness.

"Filius meus veni ad me!"

I can discern the words, but I do not understand them, cannot grasp the meaning of what this voice is telling me.

Suddenly I feel trapped. I'm not able to move as my breathing slows down involuntarily. An invisible force is pressing hard against my ribcage, preventing my lungs to expand and draw in the air that I breathe.

And then there is light. Rays of fearful blinding light.

I close my eyes, avoiding the sheer brightness of its gleam.

But this invisible force takes hold now of my eyelids, forces them open, forces me to see.

And there she is.

My mother.

Wearing that black dress again.

The force it makes my gazing eyes wander from beneath her feet as she is just standing there, barefoot, her skin as pale as death with her womanly curves pushing hard against the very fabric covering parts of her body.

The dress features a vertical slash that reaches right to her pelvis exposing one of her legs as the cleavage originates just above her umbilicus, setting free more of her marble white skin and even more of her mammary flesh.

My mother's hair it is of reality's shape and form, raven black and very short in the back and on the sides, gradually elongating when rising to the top.

My staring gaze keeps wandering to this very top but all of a sudden comes to a halt.

Her eyes are blacker than darkness but I can see them talk to me. They speak of pleasure and pain, of darkness and light, of loss and of gain, of death and of life.

Then she is talking to me as my eyes are fixated on her blood red lips. Over and over she is forming the words.

Her voice is of a menacing calm.

"Filius meus veni ad me! Filius meus veni ad me! Filius meus veni ad me!"

The sheer monotony of these words is numbing my mind. Her blood red lips turn into a fiery blur as I am still looking at them.

And then the light conquers all, brighter than a thousand suns, radiating such an exquisite and incomprehensible heat throughout my trancelike body.

I can feel all my blood rushing to my nether regions as my penis embarks on a journey of invigoration, of growth and of hardening until it reaches its spear like length of 27 centimeters.

It is an ancient number, created by Marduk, the Sumerian god of gods, the Emperor of the foremost sands, ruler of the people from the stars.

It is a worshipped number.

Three times three times three.

It is the number of the phallic beast.

Now both my hands are being guided to this iron rod, encompassing its shaft unable to fully comprehend.

Flashes of this radiating heat are jolting through my body as I am staring at my mother's bloody blurry lips still formulating those five words.

"Filius meus veni ad me!"

And then I understand.

I shall come to her.

My eyes are guided down below as mother reaches out cupping her hands just underneath the spherical tip of my fleshly pillar.

I have reached my cleansing supernova as my spear of lust explodes.

Like an ever flowing stream my purest of creations is cumulating into my mother's hands, until this grail of flesh lies submerged in a sea of white.

As she closes her eyes she brings her hands up to her mouth.

And then my mother consummates my seed of life.

[6]

I have never been religious, quite on the contrary actually, but the dream I have awaken from has put the fear of god in me.

It's Saturday, October 29th, eight o'clock in the morning.

Since three hours now I am lying in my bed, wide awake and eyes wide open.

I have been thinking about all of this but still cannot make sense of anything. The one thing I know is that I am frightened as hell and I already checked if I have actually crapped all over myself. I haven't.

Wait, let me check something else.

Well, sure enough I have cum in my sleep as I can feel the hardened stains of sperm on my belly and on my sheets.

Putting this aside for a moment I'm starting to ponder the question of what is more frightening actually, the disturbing contents of this dream or its unfathomable vividness.

Even if I want to, I probably can't just ignore all of this, pretend like nothing happened, pretend I just slept soft and sound.

Hell, I just masturbated in front of my mother who then swallowed my load. The context presented itself in a more surreal kind of way, but nevertheless, that is what I saw and felt.

Everyone on this world has had a lively dream, actually thinking what's playing out in front of them right then and there is really happening only to awake to a feeling of either relief or disappointment.

But this... this was different.

"Honey" I hear the voice of my mother entering through a closed door. "Breakfast is ready."

I take a look at my watch and realize that another hour has passed me by. It's already nine o'clock.

I'm about to answer that I'm not feeling well and therefore staying in my room, but then my mom would probably come in here to look after me, and that I cannot have right now.

"In a minute" is my reply and I begin to crawl out of bed.

'What the...?"

My muscles are sore. I'm feeling completely beaten up. It's almost like a hangover, but a hundred times worse.

As I'm putting on my sweatpants and a T-shirt I come to the conclusion that I'm letting all this go for now, because what's the point? I will just get more agitated and even when I'm keeping to myself as best as I can, there will be that one moment when my parents know something's up.

So it's decided then, I'll put my happy face on and try to act as normal as I can.

[7]

The day has been pretty uneventful so far.

To begin with, breakfast did go as planned, which was a massive relief for me. Of course I felt a little awkward when mom was talking to or looking at me, but I managed to cloud my mental state of disarray.

Thank goodness though she didn't lean in for a kiss on the cheek this morning, because that could have made my personal matters so much worse. But she didn't, and I eventually stood up from the breakfast table and returned to my room.

Then I began thinking again, about what this all means.

Do I actually long for masturbating in front of my mother? Do I want her to drink my ejaculated semen?

Apart from the fact that all this is superbly sick and twisted to begin with, maybe there is a whole other truth buried deep inside?

Maybe it's not the obvious thing, ultimately wanting to copulate with my own mother, but a hidden agenda, a deeper meaning of life.

I'm no expert on psychology, but Freud would probably have a field day with me and my dream.

"Zis ees quite clear, you really do want to have sex wiz your mazer as you want to return to ze womb you once came out from."

Fuck you asshole!

A you know I am 19 years old, but you can count my sexual experiences on one hand, well, if you count in actual partners that is, becaue I had a girlfriend once who I dated for over two years. Other than that I had a girl jerk me off once, another one sucked me off and I slept with a third, which runs the total count of sexual partners to four.

I still don't care about these things though, cannot be bothered one bit, but given my porn watching habits, maybe the point is something else? Like my obsession with MILFs as of lately.

But to move one's attention from a non-related mature woman to your actual mother, well, that is probably the quantum leap of all quantum leaps.

So what is this fucking dream telling me?

Good thing is on Saturdays we usually skip lunch and today was no exception to this unwritten rule.

So I had more time to think, to ponder my thoughts and ideas, but yet again to no avail whatsoever.

In between I tried to work on my computer, writing up a rather complicated paper about an even more complicated subject, but of course I couldn't be bothered.

I listened to some music instead, just lying there, letting my mind go blank for a little while and before I knew it the sun has set and dinner was being prepared.

[8]

Well, I'm back in my room after we have eaten dinner, which was not quite as uneventful as breakfast.

Dad told us all about a motoring problem he seemed to have figured out and rushed out to this shed even before either my mother or I had finished our plates.

Turns out that my father acted as some kind of buffer in the morning, but now that mom and I were alone, things were getting awkward. Not from her side of the table of course, for her life was as normal as it gets. But sure enough she noticed that something's up with me.

After nagging me in her usual sweet and understanding kind of way, which is really pissing me off at times, I finally snapped and shouted at her.

"Leave me alone! Please! Everything's fine!"

After this outburst I ran to my room.

And here I am.

'Thanks dad' I thought to myself. 'I fucking hate your asshole cars!"

So what's the course of action now? Stay in the room until... when?

I get my phone out and take a look at the calendar.

Well, isn't that great. School will be resuming on Wednesday since Monday the 31st is turned into a holiday due to being located between a Sunday and All Saints Day on Tuesday.

I'm going to my short list of friends, looking for one I can stay with for a couple days, but not one single opportunity presents itself. If I had enough money I could check into a hotel, but that is out of the question as well.

Slowly but steadily I can feel desperation taking a hold of me again.

The thought of wanking every 30 minutes or so is crossing my mind, but I'm actually appalled by its primitively childish nature. The concept in itself I can easily live with, but a massively increased wanking frequency cannot be the solution to this matter.

At least I seem to have decided on what the bigger issue actually is: the concept of my dream or its vividness.

Of course it's the whole I-wanna-cum-on-mommy thing, but how I'm going to handle it is still a mystery, a dilemma of sheer unspeakable proportions.

A moment later I hear a knock on my door.

I am jumping to my feet as I was just sitting on the floor with my back leaned against the bed.

"Honey... I... I just..."

"Mom" I say, "I'm sorry for earlier... I didn't mean to..."

"It's okay honey..."

Even through the closed door I can feel her lips forming another sentence, but she obviously decides against saying anything else as I can hear her walk away.

I slowly walk up to my door, open it and look out at the hallway. No one's there.

Maybe a little dad time will make things better. So I grab a hoodie, put it over my head and before walking out to the shed I slip into my sneakers.

"Hey!"

Well, my father's so engaged with the BMW motor, he doesn't even hear me. Or chooses not to hear me, I don't know, but since I don't want to force a little father-son time on him, I turn around and step out into the cold October air.

Upon taking a deep breath I can feel the coldness disseminate in my lungs and from one moment to the next I'm back in my dream again. Well, not exactly, because I'm full aware of where I'm standing since there's no impenetrable darkness surrounding me, but this cold whiff of air takes my mind back to when I could see myself standing in front of my mother.

And then I can feel it again creeping up on me, the panic and the fear.

Maybe this time I'm imagining things, but yet again I can feel a presence that possesses me and is taking control of my body as my eyes wander forcefully up to a window on the first floor.

There she is.

My mother is standing right in front of the window, showing her upper body beginning from her waist line with her face to the side as she's peeling out of the grey woolen sweater she's wearing.

I want to look away, I'm trying, but I can't.

I even attempt to bring my hands up to either cover my eyes or manually turn my head into another position, but they seem to be glued to my sides.

Why doesn't she move away from the window? Why doesn't she turn to her left and look down so she can see me and then get out of sight?

No! Don't look at me! Just move away from the window!

Here goes the last button of her white blouse. And it's gone, revealing her big breasts only being held in check by a white bra.

She's reaching for the bra clasp in the front and with one swift motion she strips it off.

All of a sudden my mind gives birth to a rather unsettling thought: what if I'm just imagining this force? What if I'm actually doing this on my own?

Right now I'm sensing this unspeakable urge of staring at my mother's boobs.

Oh my, they're so big, and even more beautiful than I imagined as they're sagging a little, but ever so perfectly and naturally.

The porn watching freak that I am, my mind makes a connection in an instant: her boobs actually look like the ones Ava Addams got. The size, the form, the dutiful obedience of Mother Nature. Only difference is: my mom's tits are real.

"Fuck!"

She's looking straight at me.

My eyes still glued on her breasts for a while, I then gaze into her eyes, then again focus on her lips.

"Filius meus veni ad me!"

"What?!?!?!"

"Hello son! I didn't hear you coming."

I turn my head to face my father, then I look back up again.

She's gone.

"Ah yes, dad, thought I check up on you."

"You two need anything" I suddenly hear my mother say.

I turn back again and there she is, standing in the frame of the front door, looking in our direction, still wearing her jeans, the white blouse underneath a grey V-neck sweater.

"No, thank you" my father replies. "We're good here."

"Alright then, because I'm going to take a bath now."

With that she steps back into the house and out of sight.

My father has also disappeared beneath the front of his BMW as I keep standing there for a while longer, still staring at our front door.

I also realized a couple minutes ago that I'm actually sporting a halfway erection, but thanks to the combination of really tight briefs and rather wide cut sweatpants no one takes notice other than me.

Without saying another word I make my way to the front door, open it and step inside.

'Alright then, I'm about to go insane.'

[9]

A beautiful Sunday morning, the rays of the sun coming down on us with full force already, and we're sitting at the dinner table having breakfast together.

Anywhere else this is going to be a normal day, not in our house though as I single handedly revved up the level of awkwardness a notch or two.

I'm really embarrassed to actually give an account of what happened last night, but here it goes.

First of all you're probably wondering if I went to my parents' bathroom yesterday in order to take a real good glimpse of my fully exposed mother. The answer is no, I didn't. I will admit, even though it pains me to say, I was tempted, but eventually I mastered this upcoming urge and stayed in my room.

Instead I watched some porn, an Ava Addams scene actually, where she fucks a younger girl with a strap-on.

While doing so a new problem arose. Well, let's call it a problem for now. After jerking off my erection didn't subside and this feeling of shameful emptiness didn't set in, so I started all over again, which from start to the beginning took me around half an hour.