The Big Tits Club Ch. 49-50

Near as I could tell, the girls remained in my family room talking for over an hour. You'd think we'd have already covered all the salient points, but never underestimate teenage girls' ability to continue a conversation well beyond the "beating a dead horse" stage. In the end, though, they all went home.

Around dinnertime, Belle called to ask if I was coming over to join her and her dad. I told her I wasn't hungry, and she correctly guessed that I wanted to be here just in case Sam came home. About an hour later she walked over a plate full of food for me, kissed my cheek, and thankfully left me alone.

I devoured the food, decided I needed to get out of my own head, and parked myself in front of the big TV playing video games in an attempt to distract myself.

I must've lost track of time, because the next thing I knew the bass rumble of the garage door rolling up vibrated through the house. My shoulders slumped, because Sam always parked outside and used a spare key to come in through the front door. I checked the clock and found that it was shortly after 9pm, and when Mother came inside, I didn't bother looking up to greet her.

But she came over to check on me.

"I can't remember the last time you were playing video games this late at night," she remarked thoughtfully. "What's wrong?"

I glanced at her for half a second before returning my attention to the screen. "Why does something have to be wrong?"

"I may not be very maternal, but I can tell when someone is withholding information," Mother stated in an even voice that was nevertheless laced with subtle insinuation. She walked directly in front of me, blocking my view of the TV, and folded her arms across her chest. All subtlety then flew out the window when she gave me a cold glare and asked, "Where is Samantha right now? I noticed her Escalade isn't parked outside."

My eyes were suddenly moist. My attempts to distract myself had only worked to a degree, and the pang I felt inside at her absence had been eating away at me for hours. "I don't know," I muttered thickly.

Mother sighed. "What have you done?"

I pursed my lips and glared at her. "So quick to assume it's MY fault?"

"It's always the man's fault. Even when it's not." Mother cracked a bit of a smirk at that.

I took a deep breath and sighed. "Yeah, well, maybe it is my fault," I conceded.

"So I will repeat: What have you done?"

Already at my wit's end, I had no strength to deflect or otherwise skirt around the truth. Setting the controller aside, I sighed and explained, "I told her that she's beautiful, both inside and out. I told her she was the most amazing person I'd ever met. I told her she was intelligent and so very kind, so warm, and so hard-working. I told her I knew she didn't want to have a romantic relationship with me and I told her I'd been trying to keep my feelings at bay ever since Friday morning, but that in the end I couldn't help myself."

"Oh, shit," Mother cursed, sensing what was coming next.

"I told her I was in love with her, which is the absolute truth," I continued. "I told her she was my favorite in the BTC."

"Please tell me you didn't ask her to become your girlfriend."

I snorted and gave her a perplexed look. "I thought you WANTED me to tell her I loved her. All those quips about marrying me and staying in our house forever or becoming your daughter-in-law."

Mother was aghast. "You DID ask her?"

"No, of course not," I insisted with a sigh. "She's made clear from the beginning that she didn't want to become my girlfriend, and I was very clear that I wasn't asking her to start dating or anything like that."

Mother looked only slightly relieved. "But you DID tell her you loved her. You even used the word 'favorite'." They were accusatory statements, not questions, and I felt like I was on the witness stand.

I sighed and confirmed, "Yes."

"And she ran away, of course."

I sighed again. "In my defense, I tried to emotionally withdraw and keep her at bay for a few days to avoid having this happen."

"And then you went ahead and let it happen anyway." Shaking her head, she muttered, "Stupid, stupid boys. Always making dumb decisions without properly thinking through all the consequences."

I scowled. "You know for a mom, you're doing a real shitty job of making me feel better."

Mother gave me a funny look. "Whatever gave you the idea I was trying to make you feel better?"

I just rubbed my forehead and sighed.

Mother started rubbing her forehead and sighed as well, and for a moment we were like mirror images of each other.

But Mother recovered more quickly than me, and she turned and came to sit down beside me on the couch. Reaching out, she actually took hold of my hand and held it atop her knee between both of her hands. "Matthew, I can't say I have ever been there for you in a time of emotional need, and I'm not about to magically transform into your source of guidance or reassurance. But in this particular instance, I think it would be fair to say I understand more about Samantha's feelings for you than you do."

I blinked twice and looked at her curiously.

"Samantha loves you. Please don't doubt that. But she's extremely conflicted about those feelings and it's not solely because she wants to focus on her academics or future career."

I frowned. "It's not?"

Mother shook her head. Taking a deep breath, she gave me a serious look and prefaced, "What I'm about to tell you are things she's said to me in confidence - things she could perhaps get quite angry with me for revealing -- things you may not enjoy hearing. But it's important that you understand the problem in order to properly provide a solution. Otherwise I fear the two of you could do irreparable harm to your relationship, and that's not something I want for either of you."

I took a deep breath, exhaled slowly to calm myself, and forced myself to focus. "I'm listening."

"Samantha is in love with you now, in love with the man you've become, but things were not always this way. For years you were just the safe 'boy' she had wrapped around her little finger. I told you before that she loved how obedient you were to her."

I chuckled. "I remember."

"She relished the adrenaline rush of teasing you mercilessly. It gave her quite a sense of power to be able to manipulate your arousal, to push your buttons, and to stretch the boundaries of your relationship without fear of you pushing back. Your obedience made her feel safe, safe enough to test her own limits, because she knew with absolute certainty that she had all the power in the relationship."

I shrugged. "I remember those days."

"She didn't love you back then. She appreciated you, and she valued your friendship. But you were just a toy to her, a favored toy perhaps, but still just a toy. She was still attracted to the bad boys and craved the validation of their attention, not yours."

I scowled. "I see what you mean about telling me things I won't enjoy hearing."

"Patience." Mother gave me a stern look. "At the same time, you were her salvation. Much as she may have craved the validation of the bad boys, after her first few horrible experiences, she never let them touch her because she could never feel safe with them the way she felt with you. Every time some greasy fuckwit got close to her, she panicked and backed off."

I blinked. "Did the phrase 'greasy fuckwit' just come out of your mouth?"

Mother smirked. "Samantha's term, not mine."

I chuckled and gestured for her to continue.

"Then came the 'Holly incident', as she put it. I understand that you were offered sex, but turned it down in favor of saving yourself for the BTC girls."

I made a face. "Has Sam really told you ALL our secrets?"

Mother shrugged. "The saying goes that you don't realize what you have until it's gone, or in this case, nearly taken from you. I recall that it was not too long ago when you believed Samantha had gone out on a date with another man and the sudden jealousy consumed you."

"I remember."

"So it was for Samantha. The unexpected wave of jealousy surprised her and forced her to reevaluate your relationship. She recognized how much you'd grown, realized how much she enjoyed finding physical pleasure with you, and began to consider you as a serious partner for the very first time instead of a plaything so easily cast aside. She no longer craved attention from other men; she craved YOUR attention. And the competitive drive she has always possessed made her crave to be your 'favorite'."

"I know that part. But she got over it."

Mother shook her head in the negative. "She still wants to be your favorite."

I frowned. "She said she got over it. She even credited YOU with helping get her head on straight."

Mother pursed her lips and thought about that. "I helped her realize it would be more productive to redirect that competitive desire, to channel her aggression into her career rather than get caught up in... girlish cattiness."

A fond memory came to mind, and I hooked my hand into a claw, muttering, "Meow..."

"What?"

"Nevermind."

Mother arched an eyebrow, but continued. "I could see she was on a path to undermining her relationships with her friends by pursuing you. At the same time, the balance of power had shifted. Instead of being the one in control, she found herself craving your validation, and she didn't like that feeling. I told her that her love for you might be teenage infatuation, not real, and that she'd be better off taking a step back a bit to regain control of her emotions."

I frowned. "YOU told her to withdraw from me?"

Mother shrugged. "It seemed what was best for both of you at the time. You were clearly more infatuated with Naimh than Samantha anyway."

I frowned. "Do you NOT want us to end up together?"

Mother's eyes glittered. "I would be overjoyed if Samantha found lifelong love with my son and became my daughter-in-law. Someday."

I keyed in on the word 'someday'. "You're playing the long game. You think that me and Sam crashing and burning after a doomed high school romance where neither of us was ready would ruin your little dream."

Mother smirked. "You said it, not me."

I rolled my eyes. "And you still don't think we're ready for a relationship now."

Mother took a deep breath. "No, you're not. You belong to the BTC, not to any one girl, at least through the end of high school. And Samantha is going through a very difficult period of her life where she needs the stability of dependable friends, not the inherent instability of a new and uncertain romance."

I shook my head. "I'm not asking her for a new and uncertain romance."

"And I'm very glad you're not. But we still haven't addressed the crux of the problem."

"What's that?"

"Power."

I frowned, not yet understanding.

Mother took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She hugged herself and looked away for a moment, collecting her thoughts. And only once she was fully prepared did she finally turn and look straight at me.

"I know what it's like to be a girl like Samantha: beautiful, desirable, intelligent, and ambitious. All of those things give me power, give me the ability to control the world around me. But at the same time, for any woman, that power can still be easily stripped away. Samantha believed she was in control of the boy who took her virginity right up until he got her in bed and stripped away her power. She can't go home right now because her father still expects her to fall in line. She can be physically manhandled if she lets a man get too close and will spend the rest of her life monitoring her drinks at bars and parties. She'll tell you she's lost count of the number of times some boy has grabbed her ass while walking through the school hallways. Men she has no interest in will leer at her and devalue her down to... well... three holes and a pair of tits."

I swallowed thickly and averted my eyes.

"And of course... a powerful young woman can end up pregnant."

I blinked and picked my head up. There was a rich note of emotion in Mother's voice, and I immediately knew she wasn't talking about Sam anymore.

Mother pursed her lips when she caught my gaze and she sighed. Furrowing her eyebrows, she gave me an apologetic look and explained, "It's not that I never wanted you. I DID want children... eventually. I wanted the same dream Samantha wants: a loving husband, a fulfilling career, a nice house in which to raise my family."

She looked down at her lap and closed her eyes for a moment, clasping her hands together.

"Your father whisked us away on a surprise tropical island vacation. Straight to the airport, no warning, nothing but my purse and the clothes on my back. He thought he was being romantic." Mother picked her head up and stared at me evenly. "I didn't have my makeup or my clothes... or my birth control. I found bikinis and sheer dresses from beachside vendors. I found cheap makeup and condoms at a drugstore. One broken generic condom later and I found myself in an unhappy marriage and almost fatally behind on the firm's partner track. My power had been easily stripped away."

I'd never heard that story before, and I didn't know what to say, so I remained silent, just trying to process what Mother was telling me.

She took a deep breath, sat up straight, and within moments was right back to the imperious, confident woman I knew. With an almost casual shrug, she continued, "So I doubled my efforts on the one thing I really could control: my job. By the time I finally got rid of the man I had come to hate, my relationship with you, unfortunately, had become a lost cause. Being distant with each other had already become habit, for both of us. I am sorry for that, you know. I wish I had found a better balance between mother and lawyer. I wish I had never gotten married and simply embraced being a single mother from the start. But it's much too late for that now. You're old enough and independent enough that you're much happier with my absence than my presence, and my career has become my life."

We both went silent, but rather than feel awkward, the intermission gave us both time to collect ourselves.

Eventually, though, I picked my head up and said, "Thank you for the explanation. It helps me put things in perspective."

Mother pursed her lips and waved me off. With a slight shake of her head, she said, "I didn't mean to get sidetracked. We were supposed to be talking about Samantha."

I nodded. "And her need to feel like she's in control -- like she still has the power in our relationship. I certainly know Sam liked things better when she could play me like a marionette on strings."

Mother mused on that. "More or less. There was something she told me after that first morning you two went for the 5-mile run."

"And I barely made it back home."

Mother chuckled, but schooled her features a moment later. "Samantha said she was starting to see you as just another pathetic male who couldn't keep up with her. It made her feel better about losing ground in the power dynamic between you."

"And then I told her she was beautiful and she ran away."

Mother raised both eyebrows and head nodded out the door. "Sound familiar? Samantha needs to feel in control of her situation, especially at a time like this with everything going on with her parents. Her inability to control her emotions with you terrifies her. She thinks about you all the time. She falls asleep every night wishing she could be in your arms, and from what she's told me these past couple of weeks, she couldn't help but leave her bed to go cuddle with you before the sun came up. That's power. That's leverage. Saturday night when you brought Mari home, you locked your door. Samantha came crying to my room when she found out, did you know that?"

I blinked. "What? No."

"She was happy to let Mari have the night alone, but in the morning she wanted to surprise you with a threesome. When she tried the door, she found it locked, and you have no idea how much that affected her."

I frowned. "As if me locking the door symbolized my ability... symbolized that I had the power... to shut her out. To hurt her badly."

"Compounding the situation, you left for the day instead of staying for brunch when Belle and Samantha returned from their run. She was devastated, and to later find out you'd gone on a date with Naimh?"

I pursed my lips. "I thought I was doing what was best for our relationship by withdrawing from my emotions the way she'd been withdrawing from me."

"You made her panic is what you did. She wanted you. She NEEDED you. And she felt so utterly helpless to do anything about it."

I sighed. "I knew I was hurting her. I didn't realize how much."

"For a young woman who craves to be in control, you were really stressing her out."

"I know, I know."

"She's in love with you."

"I know."

"And she HATES being in love with you."

I blinked. "What?"

Mother shrugged. "She hates how much she loves you. She hates how much she needs you. But she can't stop herself. She can't let you go. And the more she tells herself to stop, the more she can't get you out of her head."

"It's like telling someone on a high cliff, 'Don't look down,'" I mused.

"Something like that."

"So what am I supposed to do? Tell her I don't love her when I really do? Kick her out of the house and tell her there's no chance of a relationship so she can move on without me? Go to USC or Cornell to save her the misery of seeing me at Berkeley?"

"No, no, none of those things. Haven't you been listening?"

"I'm trying."

"What's the crux of the problem?"

"Power. She wants it, and I apparently have too much of it."

"Precisely."

"What am I supposed to do about that? Give her back the power somehow?"

"Find a way to make the girl who needs to feel in control... feel in control. Reassure her that even if you do have this power over her, that you won't abuse that power. She fell in love with you because she believed you would never do anything she didn't want you to do. Stop doing things she doesn't want you to do."

"Like locking my door."

"Obviously."

"Reassuring her I won't use my 'leverage' to try and manipulate her to do anything she doesn't want to do."

"Yes."

"Even though she's spent years manipulating me into doing anything she wanted me to do."

Mother's eyes sizzled. "Tell me you didn't enjoy it."

"Convince her that I won't interfere with her career goals or become the kind of guy who would ever ask unfair questions like, 'What's more important: that exam or me?'"

Mother perked up. "That's a good one."

"Respect that she doesn't want to get tied down by a romantic relationship, not even with me. So I need to reassure her that just because she's the most incredible young woman I've ever met and I love her to pieces, I'm comfortable keeping things the way they are: friends with benefits."

Mother nodded.

"Help her not feel so powerless. Help the control freak feel in control."

"Can you handle that?"

I gave Mother a shrug and a hopeful smile. "I love her. I have to try."

****

Something tickled my balls, and with a start, I jerked awake.

"Mmph!" somebody grunted, and as I sat up, I realized I'd just shoved my dick an inch into a girl's throat. She gagged a little but didn't quite pull her head off. Continuing to suck my mushroom head and twisting her hands around the base of my cock, she pumped them together up and down the length of my shaft until she recovered enough to push her face back down.

My eyelids flew WIDE open, and I gasped aloud, "Sam?"

But when I looked down, I saw Belle's strawberry-blonde head in my lap, and she looked up at me with a bit of a smirk. Popping off my prick, she grinned and remarked, "You know, almost any other girl in the world would be really annoyed at you for saying that."