Not Your Typical Mother Ch. 06

Emily stepped back into her room and noticed that it still smelled heavily of cigarette smoke, which she thought was odd. She scanned the room and noticed that a fog of smoke shifted in the stagnant air just above eye level. Could it really have remained so thick? It didn't seem to make any sense, but she also didn't really have any other explanation at the moment. Emily looked down to see her pack of cigarettes where she had left them, on the floor with her lighter next to her chair facing the window.

Emily stepped a few feet towards the window and looked down at the porch she had just been kneeling on while gagging on Gerald's thick cock. Her pussy was wet at the thought, and she cursed the fact that he had gotten her excited before blasting his load down her throat and fucking off inside. She figured at some point he'd want to fuck her little 18-year-old cunt and considered whether she would actually allow him to do so. At the moment she'd take any cock she could get her hands on, but perhaps she'd cut Gerald off before he became too needy. She was pretending to be monogamous with Darren, who despite being a drug dealer was surprisingly old fashioned in that way.

In fact, he would be absolutely pissed that she had blown Gerald. She mentioned once that she had traded a blowjob for some coke at a party early in their dating days and he had gotten so butthurt that she had to play it off as a joke to calm him down. Luckily, she had convinced him that she was joking but it served as proof that she needed to keep her promiscuity a secret from then on. She had fucked around on Darren constantly since then, basically whenever she had felt like it or needed something that her mouth or her pussy could get her. She knew that she loved Darren on some level, but also recognized that she was 18 and in no hurry to settle down.

More than Darren himself, Emily was in love with the lifestyle that he had introduced to her and drugs he gave her. Without those things, she doubted he'd keep her attention for long at all. But it was easy enough to keep him happy and ignorant, as long as she drained his balls and kept her mouth shut. He, like most people in Emily's life, had severely misjudged her as far more innocent and trustworthy than she truly was. There was a time when it was true, but that girl was dead and gone, never to return thankfully. She pitied her younger self actually. So naïve, so virtuous and chaste. So boring.

Emily opened the window again and sat down on the chair with her pack of cigarettes, eager to wash the taste of Gerald's cum out with another cigarette. She slid the top back and paused, noticing her fresh pack missing not one, but two cigarettes. Immediately she knew why her room had smelled of fresh cigarette smoke. Her mother had snuck into her room and smoked one of her cigarettes! Emily almost couldn't believe it, but that brought another thought into her mind. How likely was it that she had been able to see her and Gerald?

Emily stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly on the wooden floor as she bolted upright. She peered down at the back porch of Gerald's house, still awash in the soft yellow light that had yet to be turned off. She could just make out the edge of the bench, which told her that her mother would have been able to see her kneeled there in front of Gerald quite easily. Shit! She wasn't sure what her mother would do about it, but it was fair to assume that she definitely saw her sucking him off. That just raised even more questions that Emily didn't have the answers to.

Why was she in her room to begin with? Why had she smoked an actual cigarette after being vehemently against it and woefully unable to even inhale a day ago? How had she not marched over and absolutely lost her mind? Where was she and how was she not beating down her door, demanding to know what the hell she just witnessed? These were questions without answers, and the curiosity that would get her the truth was something she did not want to provoke. Perhaps it was better to play dumb in this situation, as perhaps her mother didn't want to admit that she had stolen her cigarette and thus couldn't reveal that she had seen her with Gerald.

Whatever the reason, Emily would be satisfied to remain in ignorance for as long as it meant she didn't have to have that conversation with her mother. But she desperately needed to cum after being teased and left wanting by Gerald, so she laid down on her bed and grabbed her vibrator from the bedside table.

Danielle's heart pounded in her chest as she listened to her daughter close the door to her room. She did her best to temper her breathing, but she knew that it was too loud and ragged and risked the possibility of waking her husband. She snuck quickly across the room and entered the bathroom, closing it quietly and locking it. Finally, she felt like she could release a sigh of relief, her little escapade cutting it far too close for comfort. She didn't know what she would have said to Emily about what she'd done, but she certainly wasn't ready to figure it out on the fly.

Danielle instinctively reached to her right pocket and retrieved her vape, something she had been doing on autopilot the last 16hrs while the house was empty. She brought the colorful little square up to her lips and sucked hard on the mouthpiece, filling her lungs with the thick fruity vapor until it felt like she was going to explode. The intense sweetness made her mouth water a bit and the fullness of her chest seemed to calm her nerves almost immediately. She imagined that the very high nicotine content was more responsible for that than the feeling of fullness in her lungs, but there was certainly something about the deep breath and weight in her lungs that contributed to her satisfaction.

She didn't bother to purse her lips to exhale, instead parting them in a thin line and unleashing dense white vapor in a lazy stream. It seemed to go on forever, and her outward breath ended before she really even felt like she had emptied her lungs. Regardless, the vape was back at her lips immediately, repeating the exercise several times in quick succession. After exhaling the fifth monstrous cloud of vapor it finally felt like she had gained control of herself enough to realize what she was doing.

Danielle panicked and grabbed a bath towel from the rack and tossed it at the base of the door, blocking off the small opening that would allow it to vent out into her bedroom. She cursed herself under her breath, shaking her head in disgust at her carelessness. She was never like this. This wasn't who she was. She was smart, conservative, measured. The reckless behavior of the past few days was hardly normal for her at any stage of her life, even as a teenager.

Something was changing in her, and she knew it. She could feel it. Perhaps it hadn't been apparent to her until that moment, but she had identified so strongly with her daughter and lived through her so vicariously that she must have been adopting some of the same characteristics that she had exhibited since being back from college. Was it really that simple? She took another deep, pensive pull on her vape as she mulled it over in her head. Danielle was a smart cookie. She knew there was more to this sudden change than being a bored, lonely housewife or some early mid-life crisis thing.

This was tied strongly to her relationship with Emily and what that relationship had represented to her over the last 18-years of her life. She had given up everything for her. All her dreams of going to an ivy-league school, building a career, and seeing the world. Everything. She had settled down with a man she respected and appreciated but had always known she didn't love. She had done that for Emily. She had become a doting mother and dutiful wife, occupying both roles effortlessly and with as much focus and determination that she had once devoted to her studies. She had done that for Emily.

In return, Danielle had gotten to see her beautiful, intelligent, funny, kind, interesting daughter grow up to become an amazing person who she was immeasurably proud of. She'd even felt justified in her decision to give up her own dreams to do it and experienced boundless gratification in seeing her own ambitions realized by her daughter with her support. When she had left for college, it seemed like her work was done, and her sacrifice had all been worth it and she could go back to living for herself. But she hadn't. Instead, she had wallowed, aimless and depressed and unsure of who she was or what she wanted. The truth was, she couldn't remember.

It felt like the part of herself that she had been holding onto had been the part that had left with Emily. Her dreams. Her ambitions. Her life. That had been a tough and uncomfortable lesson that at the time, she didn't really understand. But now she did, and the shift in her daughter and thus in herself was a natural evolution of the last 18-years of her life. This was always what was going to happen when this version of her daughter had shown up on her doorstep a week ago.

The question now, with everything she now understood about what was happening, did she want it to stop? She was so conflicted, and a part of her was hurting, confused, and terrified. Was she watching and even enabling her 18-year sacrifice to be in vain while her daughter destroyed her life? Was she so hopelessly intertwined with Emily that her destructiveness was inevitably going to spread and infect her despite her reservations? Again, who was she and what did she want? Thinking back to her teenage self, she wondered what that bright-eyed, ambitious young honor student would say.

"I want to go to Yale, I want to study abroad, I want to have a fulfilling career where I make a difference in the world and not just collect a paycheck until I die," she heard herself say in her mind's eye.

She knew some version of that statement was likely what she would have and probably did say at the time. But how likely would it have been for her to make that naïve, idealized dream a reality? She would never know. Not now. But it was really all she had, and the only answer she had ever had to that particular set of questions. Her answer now? Help Emily to be happy? Help her make a life for herself? Encourage her to realize her potential and make her sacrifice mean something? Was any of that true or even fair? She wasn't sure. But another lungful of vapor was certainly solidifying one thing: she needed to figure it out. Soon.

Whatever lay dormant in her daughter to make her susceptible to her destructive lifestyle choices was present in her as well. But she had known this. Her own work ethic and drive to succeed had been born from watching her mother fall victim to drugs and shitty men. It had terrified her when she looked at her mother and saw a reflection of her possible future. She sprinted in a totally opposite direction, intent on building herself a life as far away from that possibility as she could. But it had come home to her doorstep just one week ago, manifested like a heritable disease in her daughter.

She shuddered at the thought that she was bearing witness to her mother's sad story beginning again right in front of her eyes. Her mother was dead now, overdosed and left to rot by another shitty part-time dealer and part-time boyfriend in the front seat of her car. When Danielle had gone to identify her, as her only remaining family member who had any contact with her, she looked like a hollowed-out shell of a human being. There wasn't a trace of her mother in the skeletal form that she had seen. Would that be Emily? Was that going to be her? It didn't seem real. It didn't seem possible. But the difference between Emily now and six months ago was drastic and very real.

How then, could it feel so gratifying to have smoked that cigarette, to hit her vape compulsively all day, to have gotten more intoxicated than she had ever been the other day--and how was she getting off on witnessing her daughter's reckless sexual adventures. It was sick. She was sick. The entire situation was completely and utterly repugnant. The shame of it was overwhelming, and yet, it sent shivers through her body and shockwaves to her clit. What was wrong with her? The twisting concoction of shame, confusion, excitement, and fear twirled around in her belly, prompting another lung filling pull on her vape. It helped, but only a little, and Danielle longed for the fuzzy-headed blunting of alcohol and the minty warmth of a cigarette.

The rest of the week was strange, and both Emily and Danielle seemed to avoid one another and keep any conversation short and light. It helped that Emily was out with Darren a lot, and Danielle had busied herself with household chores and mindlessly scrolling through Facebook. David had been working a lot, which kept him from noticing too acutely anything was off, but the few times they'd shared a family dinner the stilted conversations had queued him into something being off. He asked both his daughter and wife about it casually and received the same general response from both; they didn't notice anything, and nothing was wrong.

It was Friday after work before he pressed the issue again, halfway through an awkward dinner. It was met with the same reported obliviousness from the two women, so he launched into his second plan: a family outing. Sundays were oftentimes a day where they did something together back before Emily had gone off to school, so his suggestion that they revisit the family tradition of a 'Sunday, Funday' should have been met with enthusiasm and nostalgic interest. At least, that's what he had thought. Instead, it resulted in a tepid, 'yeah, maybe,' and 'let's see how we're feeling that day and decide.' This defeat settled it, as far as he was concerned, and he receded back quietly while he plotted what to try next.

That night he had trouble sleeping, and noticed sometime throughout the night that his wife wasn't in bed with him. He pawed at the bedside table and retrieved his phone, squinting at the harsh light of the screen as he tried to read the time. 1:14 a.m. He had been sleeping in fits and spurts, trying unsuccessfully to prevent the racing thoughts sprinting through his mind from keeping him awake. He normally slept like a rock, but the unsettling atmosphere in the house over the last week was wreaking havoc on his sleep schedule. David sighed deeply and blinked several times as his alertness increased. After a few more moments he sat up and peered over at the bathroom door, which was closed.

It was strange that it was closed, and the light appeared to be off which didn't make sense to him. He felt the need to urinate, so he decided to get up and solve the mystery and relieve himself. When he tried the door, however, it was locked. When he turned the handle, he heard sounds of movement on the other side of the door before Danielle's voice called out from the other side.

"Just using the toilet, I'll be a minute," she said.

"It's okay, take your time," he answered.

He figured she had wandered into the bathroom and decided not to turn the light on to prevent herself from being awakened too much by the light of the bathroom. He still found it odd that she was able to see what she was doing though, with the door closed and no other sources of light to illuminate her surroundings. Sitting back on the edge of the bed he waited for Danielle to finish, and after another ninety seconds or so the door opened and Danielle stepped out, looking a little flushed and uneasy.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

"Yep, all good," she replied quickly, making her way back to her side of the bed and laying down.

After going to the bathroom, David went back to bed and began tossing and turning again. Unable to shake the sense that something was right in front of him, but unable to determine what the hell it was. Danielle twisted restlessly in the bed next to him, and before long a pregnant silence filled the room while both of them lay unsleeping and frustrated.

"What's going on?" David asked plainly.

"What do you mean?" Danielle replied.

David sighed deeply, his sleep deprivation and exasperation quickly eroding his patience.

"Something is going on, and don't tell me it's nothing because I'm not stupid. Everyone in this house has been on edge the last week and no one is saying why. Now we're not sleeping, and my mind is going a million miles an hour and I need to understand what this is all about before I lose my mind," he explained.

A silence stretched for several long seconds before Danielle replied.

"Emily has a new boyfriend and I guess her spending so much time with him after I've missed her so much has gotten me a little depressed. I think I made things worse by saying something and making her feel guilty, so it's just been a little bit weird between us lately. But I'm going to talk with her tomorrow and things should get back to normal. She's 18, not 8, and I need to let her live her life. It's just been a bit hard, that's all," Danielle half-lied.

"Why didn't you just tell me that when I asked you several times what was wrong?" he asked.

"I guess I was embarrassed to be feeling sorry for myself because my fully grown, adult daughter is busy with her own life while I sit around moping about not having a girls-day-out," she answered.

Danielle felt like she sounded compelling because there was so much truth to what she was saying, despite intentionally leaving out key details that she didn't ever want him to know. It seemed to be enough to convince him though, and David reached out and touched her arm, rubbing it comfortingly.

"I know it's hard, it's been challenging for me too. She's just so grown, it's hard not to miss when she needed us for everything. Maybe we need to start to focus more on 'us' and how we want our lives to be now that she's become more independent," he reasoned.

The truth was, Danielle really did not like the implications of what David was saying. The relationship they had was supportive, comforting, safe, and stable, but it wasn't love. It had probably never been love, at least for her. The idea of trying to rekindle a spark that never was sounded like a deeply depressing endeavor, but she knew not to say that and settled on placing her hand on his and agreeing. She just wanted to settle his nerves and eliminate his suspicion. He nearly caught her vaping like a maniac just a few minutes ago and had been asking way too many questions.

He wasn't lying--he wasn't stupid. He wasn't the most intuitive person she had ever met, but he would absolutely get to the bottom of what was going on if his curiosity wasn't sated. Unfortunately, David responded to her reciprocating touch with an escalation of intimacy, rubbing her forearm and scooting closer to her. They hadn't had sex for months, and she was not at all in the mood, especially for her husband as bad as that sounded in her head. That being said, she couldn't falter now. She would elicit further suspicions if she rebuffed his advances, so she responded by turning towards him and swallowing her distaste.

Wanting to get it over with as quickly as possible, Danielle reached her hand under the comforter to David's lower abdomen. She felt him inhale sharply as her hand continued down the front of his body and found his growing middle. She snaked her fingers between the flaps of his boxer shorts and began to massage his cock. David rubbed her shoulder and leaned back into his pillow as she worked his erection toward full arousal. When she was satisfied that he was ready, she turned her back to him and shimmied her hips, her ass pressing against his prick suggestively.

David reached down and grabbed his shaft as Danielle reached between her legs and pulled her panties to the side. She felt him press the head of his cock to the entrance of her canal and pressed herself against him, compelling several inches of penetration. In response, he gripped her hip with his left hand and pressed himself into her until he was sheathed completely. His average length and girth were fine, but it hardly felt like it filled Danielle and part of her wondered what it would feel like to be stretched out. She imagined that her slut of a daughter could tell her, and that stray uncharacteristic thought seemed to heighten her arousal almost instantaneously.