My Gay Friend's Hot Mum

I put a cynical mocking tone in my voice. "Oh, was poor Josh embarrassed because he had to go and buy more sanitary pads for his Mum when she was sick in bed and couldn't get them herself?'

"It was so embarrassing," Josh protested.

"If that's the most embarrassing period thing that's happened to you then you don't have much to complain about," I said. "When Imogen and I were 12, our families went to St. Kilda beach for the day and we both had our periods so we couldn't go swimming. Anyway, we take our younger brothers up to the kiosk to buy ice-creams and the ice-cream man says to Sean and Kevin, 'Are you boys having fun at the beach today? I sure wish I was swimming instead of working on such a nice warm day.' Sean says, 'Yeah, Kevin and I are having fun swimming, but our sisters Imogen and Sophie are sick -- they caught their periods and aren't allowed to go in the water'. Everyone in line is staring or looking away awkwardly and the ice-cream man couldn't look at us right when Imogen and I paid for the ice-creams. We both wanted to vanish. Sean must have overheard Imogen and I talking to our mothers when we arrived at the beach and thought periods were an illness, like a cold. Actually, don't tell Imogen I told you about that, I still don't think she's fully recovered from what happened that day."

"I don't like to talk about periods anyway," said the mortified Josh. "Not even periods of time or American punctuation."

I grinned. "So no talking about periods in the current period of time, period?"

"Sophie," Josh complained, so I stopped my teasing.

"Josh, you really seem to have a problem with your mother," I said. "I mean she was young when she had you and maybe she did make some mistakes, but she seems really nice. I like her."

"Great, take her side," mumbled Josh.

"Josh, I'm not taking anybody's side. It's obvious that something really bothers you about all this, so if you want to talk it through with somebody then maybe you could talk to me, or if you don't want to it's fine by me."

Josh sighed and said, "Mum just embarrasses me so much. Like in the examples I just spoke about with the picnic and when she was sick. But not just then, she thinks it's a big joke to embarrass me. Like when we were having coffee together in the city, Mum says to the waiter that she would like an espresso, and that her boyfriend -- i.e. me -- would like a cappuccino."

"Well that's not too bad," I said, laughing lightly. "That's like my Dad and my Nonno, they tell all these Dad jokes that make Kevin and I cringe."

"I can't have male friends to the house because Mum flirts with them, walking around in short skirt and a shirt with her tits hanging out, and embarrassing me by saying things like 'I can't believe it's been 'insert number of years' since young Josh came out of my vagina.'"

"Whoa, I really don't feel comfortable you talking about your mother's vagina or her tits like that."

"Why not, vaginas are very important in my family," said Josh bitterly. "My grandfather is a psychiatrist who psychoanalyzes people due to the way they think about vaginas. My grandmother two years ago had a paper published about premature puberty in girls, so we have a link to vaginas there too. My Uncle Andrew makes his living looking at vaginas all day. Then he comes home to his wife Laura who has the same occupation as his father and they probably spend all evening together looking at and talking about her vagina. And my mother's vagina is responsible for most of her many bad decisions in life."

"Hello Josh, you don't have it that bad," I said. "Your mum was only 16-years-old when she had you and that can't have been easy for her. I don't think that I could cope with having a two-year-old son at my age. She also was divorced young herself with young twins to take care of, again not easy at any age. You live in a nice house, you don't go hungry and your mother clearly works hard to support your family. It's not like your mother is on the dole and off her face on heroin or speed all the time, and you live in poverty in a housing commission flat like that."

I pointed south towards the city, where the top of one of the many bleak, brown and grey housing commission tower blocks that could be found around inner-Melbourne suburbs such as Carlton, Collingwood, North Melbourne, Richmond, Fitzroy, South Melbourne and Prahran, was visible in the distance, before continuing. "A legal secretary is a pretty demanding and responsible job, plus you have a younger brother and sister that your mother is responsible for."

"All the guys at the legal firm like her working there so they can perve on her," said Josh. "And Mum loves the attention. Like at the firm's annual picnic, Mum wears a pair of shorts so short she may have worn a pair of panties and one of those strappy blouses that shows off her tits, and she struts around all the guys who are looking at her with their tongues hanging out while all their wives get jealous."

I gave Josh the time out sign. "Josh, once again, not comfortable with you talking about your Mum's tits. Very disturbing."

"Okay then, her breasts, her boobs, her mammary glands if you like. If Mum kept them discretely covered up, there wouldn't be a problem. But Mum is not a discrete person, and she really likes guys. Since her divorce there's been one guy after another. Grandma and Grandpa have a weekend house out near the Ocean Road, and Mum took me, Jason and Kiera out there for a break. There's a surf carnival going on in town so lots of surfers around, and I wake up on Sunday morning and there's not one but two surfers not that much older than me coming out Mum's bedroom with her after spending the night with her. I don't think that the three of them were playing monopoly all night together, do you?"

"Probably not," I conceded.

"That incident really sums Mum up well," said Josh. "She's got a teenage son and a younger son and daughter with her, and all she thinks about is having two young surfies she hadn't met before getting into her bed with her. Then there's the bad boyfriends, no shortage of them, sometimes more than one at a time. One guy Mum was dating -- this weird redneck truck driver guy 20 years older than her as Mum really doesn't bother with age limits -- was talking to me about how much he liked my mother's feet. Talk about creepy."

"Don't you love your mother?" I asked. "I can see she loves you."

"Of course I love her," said Josh. "She's my mother, I'm her son, I have to love her. But it doesn't make everything that went on growing up any easier for me."

"What happened that was so bad?"

"You wouldn't understand, Sophie. You're from a happy perfect nuclear family, the mother, the father, the son, the daughter, the dog and the cat. You don't know what it's like being from such a weird family."

"Try me."

Josh sighed. "Well, when I was really young we lived with my grandparents and Mum was more like my older sister than my mother, and Grandpa and Grandma were more like my parents. Uncle Andrew lived there too, he was sort of like an older brother but not a friendly one. I always remember trying to play with him and he would call out to Mum to keep me out of his room while he was studying. Mum was going to high school -- she had to take a year off when she had me and wasn't allowed to go back to the private school she had been attending when she fell pregnant as a girl with a baby didn't fit their image -- so she had to change to a government school and didn't finish Year 12 until she was 19. She worked part time at a small supermarket, and I always remember her coming home from school or work and playing with me. Grandpa's sister, my great aunt, would look after me when everyone else was at work."

"That must have been a bit unusual to grow up like that."

"It was, but at the time I was too young to think that and didn't know any better," said Josh. "When I got a bit older I was aware I always stood out from the other kids because Mum was so much younger than the other parents. One boy even had parents old enough to be Mum's parents. Of course, we stood out even more when Mum met Richie and married him in what could have been Australia's greatest disaster."

"Was Richie an awful person?" I asked. Although Chelsea had said that her ex-husband had had a drinking problem, she had also said that he had never hit her or the kids. But perhaps he was abusive in other words, such as verbally?

"He wasn't violent or abusive but he drank and gambled way too much, and he was so irresponsible and lazy," said Josh. "The air-head you met just then, the bimbo I call Mum if you believe it was the responsible parent. She was the one who took care of us, did the housework, paid the bills and balanced the cheque book. They used to argue all the time, but usually it was a case of Mum yelling at Richie and Richie sitting there and taking it and sulking. This used to happen anywhere, anytime. Mum didn't care what she had to say, she said it as loud as she liked, with as many four letter expletives starting with S, C and F she could fit into one sentence. I remember one time Richie made me a float, you know a spider with soft drink and ice-cream. Only instead of using lemonade or ginger beer, he used actual beer. I thought it was cool drinking beer with my stepfather, but Mum went off her head when she came in and saw what was happening. She grabbed Richie's beer and threw it in his face, and then poured the spider all over his head."

I laughed. "I wish I had seen that."

"Mum was heavily pregnant at the time, I thought she was going to have the baby then and there that's how angry she was. But of course she didn't, she had two babies six weeks later."

"You must have been really happy having a baby brother and sister," I said, remembering my own delight as a little girl when my parents introduced me to my baby brother.

Josh nodded in agreement. "I was. I mean two babies created a lot of noise when they cried at night and so much laundry, but I really loved having siblings now." Josh looked frustrated. "But when the twins got a bit older, that's when the bird feeding arrived in our house."

"Bird feeding? What's bird feeding?"

"You're so lucky you don't know, Sophie," sighed Josh. "Some babies progress from breast feeding to solid foods and wean really easily, while some babies struggle. I apparently was in the first group, Jason and Kiera fell into the latter group. So Grandpa and Grandma told Mum about this conference they had been to about this very issue, and one of the strategies was a program combining breast feeding with bird feeding. This involved allowing the baby access to breast feeding if they wanted, but mixing this with solid food where the mother chews up the baby's food in her own mouth, before spitting it into the baby's mouth, like some birds do with their babies."

I rolled my eyes at the mental images of this, and Josh continued the story.

"My Mum can be a pretty stubborn bitch. She doesn't have the best relationship with Grandma and Grandpa, and a lot of the time out of sheer bloody-mindedness she won't take parenting advice from them, even if the advice is sound and sensible delivered by two people who are qualified in medicine and raised two children of their own. Now when Grandma and Grandpa spoke to Mum and recommended bird feeding for the twins, what she should have said was, 'Mum and Dad this is a really stupid idea, it sucks and I'm not doing it in a million years.' Unfortunately what she said this time was, 'Mum and Dad, what a great idea, I'm going to do it all the time until they're weaned. Thank you so much for your advice'. So that's when the bird feeding began, and life was never the same again."

"Your mother would chew up the twins' food and spit it into their mouths?" My own mouth was hanging open.

"Yes," sighed Josh. "It was bad enough when it happened at home, but it used to happen out in public too. Café's, trams, trains, buses, parks, beaches, at the football and even at my fucking school. Basically anywhere where there was people who could see it. It was so embarrassing, it was always such a spectacle. I remember sitting at this café when I was a kid with Mum, Richie, the twins and Grandma and Grandpa. Mum is sitting there with her blouse open and her maternity bra unclasped, her tits -- sorry her breasts -- out on display and trying to feed the twins. Sometimes a baby would be attached to a breast, sometimes a baby would be screaming because it didn't want to be breastfed, and then would start screaming again because it did want to be breastfed. Then my mother would be putting baby food in her own mouth, chewing it up and spitting it into a baby's mouth, using her own tongue to lick any residual food away from the said baby's mouth when it didn't go in properly. Everyone would be staring across. Grandma and Grandpa were encouraging Mum, saying how proud they were of her and how well this was going, Richie was sitting there staring at Mum's breasts with his mouth open even though she was using them for their proper purpose and I was thinking about the quickest ways I could die." Josh shook his head. "Is it any wonder why I turned out gay?"

I smiled. "I don't think that's how it works Josh. I admit, the bird feeding thing is weird and kind of disturbing, but like I said before your Mum was so young and not getting any support from your stepfather raising three kids before he left when he developed an obsession with UFOs."

"Yeah, the whole UFO thing is sad, sick and messed up, but while Richie is in Canberra worshiping flying saucers, at least he isn't part of our lives."

There was one thing Josh hadn't mentioned in all of his story, and it was a pretty big omission. "Josh, I hope you don't mind me asking this, but what about your own father? Do you ever have any contact with him?"

"No," said Josh. "That's the worst thing about of all this. When Mum got pregnant with me, there were five potential candidates as my father. Five! Anyway, using a process of elimination with timing and with my appearance when I was born -- one of the potential fathers was a Maori from New Zealand so obviously he was out - it was determined that my father was my mother's cousin from Tasmania. His family was staying with Mum's family on holiday at the time Mum fell pregnant, and all the other timing and genetics fit, so there you have it."

"Your father is your mother's cousin from Tasmania?" I was dumbfounded, and also struck by the irony considering the number of jokes about cousins interbreeding in the island state of Tasmania.

"Yes, I wish he wasn't but he is. And it's not even like they were distant cousins, or only related by marriage. They are full first cousins, my Grandma's brother is his father. It's a wonder I didn't end up being born with hemophilia or with cystic fibrosis. There was a huge falling out about it in the family, his family said it was Mum's fault, Grandma blamed Mum's cousin and his parents and Grandpa found Freudian reasons as to why his daughter was pregnant to her cousin at the age of 16. But whatever the case, these sides of the family have been estranged for years, thanks to my mother not stopping to think that getting into bed with one's first cousin is a really bad idea."

"It isn't all your mother's fault," I pointed out.

"It's half her fault at least," said Josh. He looked at me nervously. "Sophie, you're the only one outside the family I've ever trusted enough to tell that to. Even the twins don't know the truth. Please promise you won't tell anyone about this, not even Imogen? I really don't want more people knowing about the bird feeding, that my former stepfather worships UFOs and especially that my mother the cousin-fucker had me when she was only 16-years-old."

"I won't tell anyone," I said. "Cross my heart. And don't call your mother a cousin-fucker, it's disturbing."

"Disturbing but unfortunately true," Josh sighed. "Thanks Sophie, you're a good listener, maybe you could study to be a therapist when you go to university?"

I laughed. "I don't think so."

"Yeah, maybe its best," said Josh. "Otherwise you might end up like my Grandpa. You can't say anything around him without him psychoanalyzing it. If we were eating chicken sandwiches and I said how much I liked my sandwich, Grandpa's mind would be working on a theory of how my childhood experiences and relationship with my mother led to me liking chicken sandwiches. So, knowing more about my family doesn't make you want to run for the hills?"

We were at the tram stop now. "No, not at all."

My tram arrived so I climbed aboard and Josh and I waved each other goodnight. All the way home I couldn't stop thinking about Josh, his mother, estranged stepfather, his younger siblings and grandparents and how strange his life must have been growing up like that. I also kept thinking about how hot Chelsea Levitt was, so cute in her baby-doll dress, but my conscience kept reminding me that I shouldn't be thinking about Josh's mother nor any other woman that way.

Arriving home, I changed out of my Catholic school uniform and into jeans and a jumper, then went to the toilet. While sitting on the loo, I still couldn't stop thinking about Chelsea. I looked down at the floor to my lowered jeans and white panties and my bare feet and tried to think of something else, but my vagina didn't seem to be listening. Every time I got toilet paper, it would stick to my increasingly damp and aroused pussy, before I dragged it backwards to wipe my bottom.

It was only my mother's knocking on the toilet door that broke my thoughts. "Sophie, are you okay in there?"

"Fine Mum," I called back.

"It's just that you've been in the toilet some 20 minutes now, I was worried you might have picked up that stomach bug that's been going around."

"No, I'm perfectly okay," I said. Very close to finishing I got some more toilet paper and completed my visit to the loo, stood up, pulled up my panties and jeans before flushing the toilet and exiting the lavatory, turning off the light on my way out.

Stepping into the adjacent bathroom I got some soap and turned on the taps to wash my hands, only for my younger brother Kevin to appear outside the door.

"And the World Record for the longest time spent on the toilet goes to Sophie Caselli of Melbourne Australia, with 22 minutes and 15 seconds," the pest announced.

I dried my hands on a towel. "You're timing me now? That's weird, even for you Kevin," I said sarcastically.

Kevin turned on the toilet light as I went to go and help our mother with the dinner. "Oh, and Sophie?" he said to my departing figure.

I sighed. "Yes Kevin?"

My brother held up the can of toilet spray from the cistern. "Sophie, this is something called toilet freshener. It's in there for a reason, please learn to use it, I'm begging you. On behalf of every other human who has a sense of smell, please learn how to use toilet freshener after you've finished in the loo." He waved his hand under his nose. "Phew."

Kevin sprayed the toilet freshener around as he closed the lavatory door and I headed for the kitchen blushing, my younger brother's main aim in life of embarrassing me definitely achieved this evening. Going to bed later that night, I found my hand going into my knickers, through my dark brown curls of pubic hair and to my vagina and clitoris.

When my finger reached my clitoris my imagination took me to my secret Sapphic fantasies. Only it was not my beautiful best friend Imogen who appeared this evening to act them out with me -- and I think that the dream version of Imogen was happy to have a night off from performing in my erotic fantasies. Instead Chelsea took her place and did very well. When I put my pillow over my mouth to stifle my moan of reaching orgasm, I couldn't believe I had masturbated over Josh's mother, but my damp pussy sure wasn't complaining.