Silent Night Pt. 02

Summary of part 1: The principle, Jack, is an 18-year-old, young man who has just finished high school. He lives with his mother, Jose, in a small maisonette, after his father walked out 5 years ago. Benny, Jose's abusive boyfriend, lives with them, not by invitation but by virtue of refusing to go home to his own place. As Jack listens to his Mom and Benny's nightly sexual activity through the thin walls, he has begun to think of his Mom differently. In The Beginning (part 1), Jack had surreptitiously masturbated while his sleeping mom lay beside him, as she was sheltering from Benny's abuse earlier that night. Jack experienced his first sexual thoughts of her. So far, the story has existed simply in Jack's retelling; now the story leaves his mind and continues.

Thank you to the constructive comments from part 1 and especially to "Dirty Old Man" who inspired me to continue and to develop the story. Forgive me if this chapter is not as sexual as you would have hoped, but that part of the story is also developing.

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Silent Night (pt. 2)

The Realisation

The first rays of light filtered through the curtain as Jack stirred from his deep slumber. He had drifted off to sleep a confused and anxious young man. His emotions twisted with insecurity over his feelings and sexual stirrings for his Mother. She had disappeared from his bed, where she had sought sanctuary, sometime during the night. Listening for sounds of life from within the house, Jack stretched and considered the merits of leaving the warmth of his bed. He only heard a deep rumbling snore from the next room; His Mom's bedroom evidently still occupied by a sleeping Benny. Of Mom, there was no audible sign.

Jack's thoughts turned to her. What had really happened last night? Was she awake or even half-aware of his attempt at a clandestine wank lying beside her? Had she knowingly bathed her hand in his fresh cum then suckled on her thumb? Or had she genuinely been asleep all along? He wasn't sure how to find out. If he should find out. But he knew something momentous had changed: he had started to fantasise about his Mother.

Why had he not seen it in the past? She had simply been 'Mom' to him for years, but now she had become his newest object of desire. Last night he had, for the first time, considered her as a woman, real flesh and blood. "Flesh, hmmm"!

Jack racked his memory for evidence of her sexuality. For years, she had been a repressed individual, always covering her body with long flowery skirts and wearing the same baggy blouses day-in day-out. Doors were literary closed to him throughout his teens and he could hardly recall ever seeing her in any state of undress. Her house rules were designed to protect her repression. The bathroom door was always locked when in use, her bedroom door closed at all times and he was forbidden to enter that sanctum. He had observed her wishes, indeed accepted it as the norm throughout his early years, and had only recently considered it quirky. He knew his Mom had been raised in a strict household, her father an Evangelist Minister, her mother equally subservient to him. His Mother's shame had been to conceive Jack at a tender age which had led to her family's abandonment of her. Jack had always know his useless 'Father' had occupied that position in title only and that Jack was not his natural off-spiring. His 'Father' had slumbered most of Jack's life, or so it seemed. Jack considered him to be a lazy pig who had simply existed without purpose in their lives. Now he was gone and good riddance.

No love from the Father, but neither had there been any natural intimacy between Mother and Son. He could not recall a time that she had embraced him, even for comfort. He must have been a small child since last she had offered her hand for him to take as they walked through town or down the promenade. But for sharing a house and holding short conversations about his school work they would have been considered strangers. Nevertheless, Jack loved his Mom and wanted her to be happy. Now, he wanted her to be his.

As he contemplated all of this new awakening, Jack began to understand the source of his own repression, his own awkwardness around girls and the reason for his continued virginity. He tried to imagine his Mother's body unclothed, the size and swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips and the swell of her arse. The thoughts remained elusive as he had no term of reference. His dissatisfaction with his mental images were due to simplistic, simulated reproductions from his pornography playlist; his Mom's head stuck on a porn star's body. He didn't want Savannah Bash's tits or Vixen Fox's curves; he wanted his mother's. He had to find out. He was finally uplifted from his bed by this new commitment.

He rose and pulled his robe around his shoulders and tied it securely around his waist. It was Mom's rule: no prancing around in pyjamas. He considered unbuckling it in rebellion, then thought better of it. Pulling on his slippers, he opened his door and leaned his head out into the hall. Once again, he listened for reaction, then walked swiftly to the bathroom. Finding it empty, he unrobbed and stood above the toilet basin, cock in hand, he stroked it twice tempting his piss to flow. It did, noisily splashing into the water, blued by the lavender freshener. He aimed higher, directly onto the ceramic to reduce the volume and, as it flowed, he considered his tool in hand.

It wasn't bad, in his own opinion, compared to what he had seen on the x-rated tubes. Not that anyone had actually confirmed his assessment as his cocks only sexual use had been one rub-job, given by Gillian Pankhurst, over the top of his jeans last Christmas. That first contact had lasted at least 4 seconds before he had ejaculated inside his pants. She had shrieked with laughter and ran off, probably to disclose his lack of exploits to her feminine confidants, without waiting for his cock's first, big 'outing'. The gossiping of girls' rumours can be so hurtful, and so it had become as other chances with his female classmates dried up, quicker than the stain on his denims.

He shook the last drops of piss away, then squeezed his cock as he gently, but repeatedly, tugged his foreskin over the helmet in a downward motion as it began to tingle in anticipation. He loved masturbation, but now was not the time.

He stood before the bathroom sink, turned on the water and looked at his face within the mirrored cabinet above as he held his un-soaped hands below the water's flow in a masculine imitation of a hand wash. Handsome was not a word anyone would use. He considered his jawline too wide, his mouth too thin and his roman nose disproportionately large, and weirdly offset, to his green, pinprick eyes. Who could love that!?! No wonder he was a virgin, suppressed sexuality inherited from his mother, repressed in social and sexual relationships and as ugly as sin.

Lifting his night shirt above his waist, he scooped some water and splashed it on his cock, then rubbed his wet hands over his abdomen, washing off the dried cream from last night's orgasm. Completed, he sighed deeply, picked up his gown and stepped out onto the landing. Standing at the top of the stairs, he contemplated direction: to right and to bed and probably a wank, or down the stairs to a coffee. His nose made its choice. A fresh brew emanated from below.

Remembering to properly don his gown before he stepped into the kitchen, he was welcomed by his Mother's small frame and enormous smile. She too was dressed in her long house-gown, as was the rule. "G'Morning ,love, did you sleep well?", sang her greeting.

"Hi Mom, I did thanks,..", he began, then stalled as he tried to decide how to best continue... hmmm "wanked off while you slept next to me", eeek, "you sucked my cum from your thumb while sleeping", errr, "Benny got his rocks off in your throat again...". Instead, he meekly asked "...did you?"

"Yes love, like a baby, but I actually fell asleep next to you, you know, me and Benny, we had words again..." her voice trailed off. "Yes, a baby", he thought, "as you sucked my cum from your thumb.".

He took up the gauntlet and summoned his newly found determination. "Mom! It's not right. What's he doing here, anyway?"

"He is welcome here, Jack, I need.., I like..."

"No Mom!", I interjected, "You don't need THAT!"

"That?", his Mom asked as she looked at Jack with her emerald eyes which at that moment felt as if they penetrated deeply within his soul. He immediately understood her petition; she needed her son to be aware, she wanted him to intercede.

"I know what he does, and I know how you feel about it..." he began with a confidence he didn't know existed.

His Mother's blushed cheeks told him she knew, he knew. A single tear broke from the corner of her eye and slowly descended her cheek. He stood and extended his arms, offering her comfort from which she suddenly repelled. "What?, No! We don't do that, Jack..", her raised voice caught within her throat as she turned her back and stepped away to the window.

His confidence evaporated. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her, to ensure she felt loved, to trace his hands along her body, to embrace her body close to his own, to feel the swell of her bosom... Whether for her consolation or for his passion, he was unsure, but he knew had had to do something or this moment would be lost, perhaps forever.

He stepped forward, from arms-length he placed his hands upon her shoulders, as she stared out of the window with her arms folded beneath her breasts, which innocently lifted and extenuated their fullness, he simply whispered, "Yes, we can and yes, we should.".

There was no reply and no movement. No recoil from his touch. He looked at her small frame, as the early morning sun shone through her gown, illustrating the curve of her waist as it extended to her hip. Suddenly his breath shortened as the downy gap at the top of her thighs allowed a shower of light to pierce the fabric. His eyes were glued to the heavenly brilliance that had born him. He stepped forward and allowed his body to lean against hers. His hands slipping down her side and around the curve of her hips to cup the slight bulge of her belly. And there he froze, his chin resting on one of her shoulders, as he clamped his quadriceps to quell the tremble of fear he felt in his legs. It was not all that moved. Her feminine aroma filled his senses and he felt his cock throb and begin to enlarge. He feared an erection would kill the moment, so he froze and tried not to think of her sexuality. "This was Mom! Just Mom!", he thought in an attempt to kill the thoughts rather than the embrace.

She was under no illusion as to what he was thinking. Finally, she had been noticed. Her ploy to stand before the sunlit window had finally paid dividends after being ignored every morning of the past year. Now she loved and hated every second of his embrace. She had yearned for his touch, for his love, for an embrace such as this. She loved it. Now she felt his semi-hardness pressed lightly against her ass cheek and she wondered if this was in reality the contact she secretly craved. She hated herself. Did she need his love and his touch as a son or for that to be coupled with his passion... as a lover?

"I love you, Mom", his voice quivered in apprehension. "And I love him", she thought, "but in what way?". She turned silently within his embrace to face him and looked up into his eyes. She noticed the height with which he now towered over her, and the power of his muscular forearms around her waist. He had become a man and she felt secure and loved for the first time in her life.

In her softest voice she whispered, "I know what happened... what I did..., what we did is wrong, but I love you, my son, with all of my heart, soul and body.".

She looked deeply into his eyes as her lips parted and he was drawn down by an unknown hypnotic force. As their lips touched, his mouth opened and he softly offered his tongue to gently lap at her lower lip and against her white teeth. She murmured and its vibration welled up from deep within her. Her teeth parted and she welcomed him into her mouth.

She felt his hands wander to rest against her ass and she quivered as he clasped her buttocks. She felt the first trickle land on her inner thigh as her pussy released its moist invitation. Her hand strayed and without conscious thought she began to rub his swelling cock over his gown. She needed this love; she needed this man.

He did not contemplate the situation at all, as his young sexuality overwhelmed him and guided his actions by an unconscious instinct. He raised one hand to cup her left breast and feel its fullness and weight. The softness of flesh and swelling of her teat just increased his desire as he longed to bow his head and nuzzle his mouth against her nipple.

"What the fuck are you doing!", bellowed Benny from the door frame.

(to be continued)