The Box

It was a sunny June morning. Contrasting the bright summer sun was a strong brisk wind shaking the trees. As per usual, old women walked and talked, bundled up as if it were September. Besides the speed walking gossip queens, it was rather quiet towards the end of the cul-de-sac where the Owens large family home sat looking as regal as the day it was built.

Inside of the large brick house, it was nearly as quiet as the early morning outside. While the grand white kitchen and formal dining room were empty, upstairs was actually occupied. Up the stairs and all the way down the hall, Patricia Owen sat at one end of her king sized bed. On the other end of the bed sat a fairly large file box, without files.

Patricia's perfectly set blonde curls bounced as she shook the foot that was crossed over the other. Her lip was ferociously being gnawed on between her perfect white teeth. It was all she could do not to hide the file box in her closet, where it had rested for the last ten years.

Down the hall, two rooms to the right, the soft snoring of Andrew Owens could be heard through the door. The sandy blonde young man lay on his stomach, eyes closed, mouth ajar.

His snoring bounced off of the dark blue walls, hitting each sports poster before moving on to the next. Above the solid mahogany desk in the corner was a wall calendar with June 12th marked "18 B-Day!" And a small doodle of a party hat.

The luxury of a summer birthday, meant no early morning requirements. And like any 18 year old boy, Andrew was in no rush to let any requirements be known.

Humming to herself, Patricia read the morning paper and sipped her morning tea. She'd opted for a less caffeinated morning beverage to try and soothe her nerves. Placed on the kitchen island was the same white file box from her bedroom. She blatantly ignored the thing, convincing herself it didn't even exist.

Mid page-turn, she heard the echoed thumping of footsteps on the stairs. Setting her paper down and looking over her glasses, Patricia joyfully chimed,

"Happy Birthday Andrew!" And bounced over to her son. She threw her arms around her sons broad shoulders, holding him close.

"Haha, thanks Mom!" Andrew hugged his mom back, picking her up off the ground. They both giggled as the muscular young man easily spun his petite mother a few times.

Setting her down, Andrew walked over to the fridge, grabbing a yogurt. Patricia's eyes darted over to the plain white box sitting on the counter. She watched her son basically drink his yogurt, thinking about how to delve into a long awaited conversation.

"Andrew," she regained his attention. "We should talk."

Andrew sat opposite his mother, sensing something he couldn't quite identify. He stretched his arms over his head and asked,

"So, what's up mom?"

"Well," she scooted the box between the two of them. "This box, it's some things your father left for you."

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the pristine kitchen changed. Andrew's back and shoulders stiffened, his jaw clenched. Patricia's eyes shifted, and her mouth dried.

The mother and son looked at each other for- what felt to them- like hours. But, only a few seconds passed before Andrew said,

"Why haven't I seen this before?"

Hearing the cut of anger in her sons tone, Patricia answered,

"Your father specifically asked, that I not give this to you until you turned 18."

Andrew nodded slowly, eyeing the box wearily. There was no label, no handwritten message, just the plain white cardboard. Slowly, he reached toward the box, his thick fingers brushing the curling edges of the tape holding on the lid.

"Hey mom," he cleared his throat, "I uh... I think I want to look through this in my room." He chose his words carefully, not wanting to hurt his mothers feelings.

She just nodded, trying to hide her immense sadness. As soon as Andrew was around the corner, Patricia let her tears fall down her cheeks. Losing her husband ten years ago still to this day made her heart ache- not just for herself, but for her son too. He hadn't had the father-son relationship that he deserved. Instead, all he got was memories and white cardboard boxes left behind.

Patricia cried silently at the kitchen island, as she had done before. She just hoped and prayed that whatever was in that box, was worth the wait.

Andrew sat at his desk, just watching the box. He watched the thing as if it were liable to get up and run away. Leaning back, he ran a hand through his sandy hair and sighed.

Carrying it up the stairs, the box proved not to be too heavy. Though, he could hear the rattling and movement of what was inside. But, he wouldn't know the contents until the lid came off. So, without anymore thinking, Andrew peeled the tape off of one lip of the lid.

The lid easily popped off of the rest of the box, just to get thrown somewhere on the floor.

At first glance, Andrew furrowed his brow in confusion. But he quickly realized that this wasn't necessarily a "gift" for today, but rather something Andrew had missed out on a while ago. With wide eyes, Andrew scanned over a black box, a small bottle with liquid, two things that looked like metal clothes pins, and a long scarf.

While the other contents were somewhat puzzling, the moment he saw that matte black box with raised silver writing, he knew what he was looking at. Shakily, he picked the small box up, turning it so he could read the words.

Elite Menswear: Large Condoms.

He slowly shook his head, looking at the box in his hand. His father passing when he was just eight meant no "mens" talk at twelve or thirteen. So, Andrew took it upon himself- when he was slightly older and realized what he'd missed out on- to learn about birds and bees.

He took to the internet, which proved to be the most vast source of knowledge. Then, he tried friends, who proved to be the worst source of knowledge. Finally he asked his best friends dad, who gave him the quintessential "you're becoming a man" talk.

Nothing had prepared him for the real thing though. The first time Andrew had sex was mindblowingly clumsy. But, what else is to be expected of a teenager?

At least now- being a few partners deep- Andrew felt like he had some semblance of a grasp on sex.

So now, sitting in his room, Andrew stared down these items that his father had purposely left him. Then, he saw the paper. Folded up, tucked under everything else, was a creased up piece of paper. Andrew unfolded the paper, and it read:

Dear Andrew,

By the time you read this I'll have been long gone. But, it is not something to be upset about. Just as birth is a part of life, so is death. Without one, we would not be gifted with the other.

There are many things I still wish to do with you. I wish I could answer all the questions I know you'll have one day. But, the best I can do is try and prepare you for later.

So, I have supplied you with some things I believe you will need at eighteen. As you see, I've included (the most important) condoms. I've also included some things that I've found to be well received by my sexual partners. These include unscented lubricant, nipple clamps, and a bondage scarf.

Anything that you're unsure of here, I suggest you ask your mother. Know that I am forever proud of you son, and I hope these small gifts will prove useful someday.

Best wishes on your birthday,

—Your father.

Andrew blinked back tears reading his father's letter. His eyes stung as he tried to think. Why on earth did his own father leave him sex toys? Andrew had seen enough free porn to know how all of those things were used. Then, his eyes settled on the part about asking his mom.

He wondered if she knew anything about any of this.

As his mind wandered, he imagined a woman with those nipple clamps on her bright pink nipples. He daydreamed that his mystery womans hands were tied up with that red scarf.

He could feel an erection coming on when suddenly, his dream woman had a face. Andrew was shocked to see his mothers face on the beautiful naked woman in his imagination. He vehemently tried to shake the image from behind his eyeballs, but it was as if it were burned there.

All he could see now was the raunchy image of his mother, naked and bound. But even so, his erection stayed. As much as he tried to tell himself it was wrong to imagine his mother that way- and even worse to get a boner from it- he couldn't get rid of either one.

Meanwhile, Patricia sat in her own room with a book in her lap. The warm mid morning sun shone, helping her relax. She didn't know just how much that box weighed on her until it was out of her hands. Part of her wondered what was inside, but she felt comforted knowing that her son still had part of his father.

She'd made a courageous choice not to remarry, even though she pretty much had pick of the litter. Men were quick to lay on the complements whenever they looked at her near perfect figure as well as her missing wedding ring.

But, she stayed "faithful", not wanting to push her late husband's memory away. Of course, there were times when Patricia wanted less than a husband. Late nights or early mornings, when everything was still, that's when Patricia craved a man in her bed. But, the only action she got in the last ten years was that of her own hands.

She shook her head, quickly shaking out the memories of late nights with her late husband. Just as she turned the page, a soft tap at the door caught her attention.

The door pushed open slowly, just enough for Andrew to push his head in,

"Hey mom, can we talk?"

Patricia closed her book and waved her son into the room. As he walked in, she saw the white box under his arm and her heart fell. She didn't know how well she could handle looking through her husband's things, but for her son she would try.

"What is it sweetheart?" She asked, moving to the bed so he could have the chair.

He set the box down quietly, thinking. What he was about to say could get pretty bad. But he was pretty sure he could execute.

"Mom," he started, "Why didn't we ever have... the talk?"

Instantly, Patricia's eyes went wide as saucers. She wasn't sure what to say but,

"You're right," she looked down. "I... I guess I had hoped that you would just... learn somewhere else."

Tears sprang into Patricia's eyes. Andrew's mouth hung open. He didn't know his mother would react like this.

"M-mom no it-" he started.

Patricia interrupted, "No, you're right! I didn't do the right thing as a mom, I am so sorry!"

Andrew's guilt was almost enough to eat him alive. Somehow, he'd imagined up some hair brained scheme where his mom would talk about sex so that maybe, he could get his rocks off. Now, he just sat there, guilty as ever, and supposedly clueless about sex.

"So," Patricia sat up, "What do you want to know? Ask absolutely anything."

Andrew perked up a bit, hoping maybe he could turn this around.

"Well, I think I know the basics. But how exactly does it work?"

His mother chuckled and shook her head, "Hon, you're gonna have to be a bit more specific than that. How does what work?"

Now it was Andrew's turn to look wide eyed. He realized that in order to coax some sexy talk out of his mother- thus embarrassing her- he'd have to embarrass himself first.

"Uh... ya know, sex. How does... sex work?" His voice cracked at least a few times.

Patricia stared up thoughtfully, taking her time to answer.

"I guess it all starts when two people are, at least, mildly attracted to each other. Contrary to what you see in movies," she crossed one leg over the other and settled back. "It's not always spontaneous. But, it's not always some long drawn out decision either."

Andrew listened in awe at his mothers casual take on sex.

"Once two people decide to have sex, they just do it. In terms of heterosexual relationships," now she crossed her arms over her chest. "A man will have an erection, that's when your penis gets hard. It's your body preparing for intercourse."

Patricia was as straight forward as if she were explaining a recipe. Andrew sat still as a board, getting completely turned on by his own mother.

"Some women have trouble self-lubricating; In that case, a lube will be necessary. The man will insert his penis inside of a womans vagina."

Patricia could feel a heat creeping down her spine.

She continued to explain the most important points, until being interrupted by Andrew,

"Listen mom, I uh...," his tongue was tied like ivy growing up a wall. "I don't... think I really need this conversation after all! But thanks though!"

"But Drew wait! I thought you wanted to know about that stuff?" Patrica leaned forward in an attempt to catch her son, but he was quicker than her. Before she could grip his arm, Andrew was up and ten feet away.

"N-no don't uh... worry! I was just.. I just... I'll be in my room!" He sprinted down the hall, and slammed his door.

Once alone, he let out a deep breath that he hadn't realized was stuck in his lungs.

Andrew groaned when he caught sight of his tenting shorts.

He wasn't sure at what point he'd gotten that turned on. Was it seeing the sex toys? Or maybe that image of a woman tied up? That woman tied up who's face was an exact match of his mothers. And of course, hearing his mom explain sex- no matter how technical her vernacular was- got his blood flowing.

What's wrong with me, he asked himself silently. But as soon as the question ended in his mind, he dropped his shorts. Sitting back in his desk chair, he wrapped his fingers around his stiff erection and conjured up the mental picture he needed to get off.

Patricia sat alone in silence with her mouth hanging open. She had no clue why what just happened, had happened. She knew years ago that Andrew needed the right guidance concerning "intimate" things, but she'd assumed that one of the fathers of his many friends had helped.

Guilt filled the space she was in. But, not just the guilt of having chickened out of a sex talk years ago. Patricia also felt, the guilt of the simmering heat between her legs.

Her eyes were brimming with tears. How could she feel that way, when the only thing that happened was a simple sex explanation? And to her own son! She felt humiliated, disgusted, and ashamed.

She wiped some tears away and focused in where her son was sitting. Andrew had left that white box sitting on her floor. She was sure that the contents of that box had to have something to do with what just happened.

Looking around, as if someone may spy on her, Patricia held the box. Quickly, she popped the lid off. Just as quickly, her mouth fell open.

Inside of the box, she saw things of hers she'd assumed were long gone by now.

But they weren't just hers, they were hers and her husbands.

She recalled a memory where those exact nipple clams were biting into her stiff nipples. And another memory, where her eyes were covered and her hands were tied with that scarf.

Patricia knew she needed to explain these things to her son. She had no idea why her late husband would've wanted their son to have their sex toys from a wildly adventurous sex life.

She pushed the lid back onto the box. Holding it under her arm, she stood up and made for her door. Under her arm, the box felt like it weighed a million pounds. She made down the hall, stopping at her son's room.

Softly, she tapped at the door. No answer. She tried again, with no answer. Her mind was racing with thoughts of what to say. She brought forth a specific memory, one she'd forgotten about for a long time:

"You can't tell me what to do!" Patricia yelled over her shoulder, bending down to pull up her fishnet stocking.

A strong hand gripped her pinned up hair, pulling back fiercely, "Excuse me, young lady? I can't... what?" The man holding her hair pulled her down, almost to his hip.

Her legs buckled underneath her, pushing her high heel clad feet out from under her. She flailed trying to get out of his grip, but only causing herself more pain.

"P-please I'm... s-s-sorry!" She yelped, choking on her words. The man holding her laughed, pulling her up by her armpits.

He threw her onto the couch and looked her over,

"It's not enough to be sorry, I deserve respect," he spoke calmly. Patricia nodded frantically, but he still spoke,

"And why do I deserve respect?"

Patricia bit her lip, debating her answer, "B-because you're..." she whispered the end of her answer.

All it took was the threat of a slap for her to squeak out,

"You're... you're my daddy!" As the words left her mouth, she inched her legs open.

Patricia shook her head, clearing the memory like an etch-a-sketch. That was the first time she and her husband had really played the roles, instead of just simple roleplay.

She wondered if that was why he'd given their son their sex toys; so that she could really live out that fantasy. No that's ridiculous, she thought to herself.

She shook herself again, trying to focus on her maternal instincts rather than her sexual ones.

She turned the nob, gently pushing her sons door open. Her eyes scanned over the room in an attempt to locate her son, and what she saw made her arms go limp.

The sound of something falling behind his head caused Andrew to turn sharply. He stared straight at his mother, who stood in the doorway staring back at him.

"Mom! Ever heard of knocking?" Andrew shouted with anger. His cheeks flushed hot red as he moved to hide his nakedness.

"I'm sorry! I did knock," Patricia shouted back, equally as embarrassed. "Y-you didn't answer!"

Andrew started to argue, but the white box from his father caught his attention. The box lay open on the floor, everything inside scattered about.

The embarrassment of being caught masturbating had softened him. But, the shiny nipple clamps alone were enough to stiffen him again.

He met his mothers eyes, exchanging some unspoken emotion with her. He knew that she had some connection to what was in that box. He also knew that she'd brought those things into his room for some reason.

"Mom..." but he didn't have to ask anything before his mom interrupted.

She sat on his bed, "Drew, I have to tell you now." She sighed, "Your father and I had... shared interests when it came to sex."

Andrew was still, not even nodding along. "Our most frequent interests were, as you could tell," she motioned to the box, "Bondage."

Andrew felt his heart racing, making him dizzy.

Patricia pushed a golden curl behind her ear. "It was always on the tame side, we never got into the real hard stuff. But, both your father and I shared that... kink."

Patricia continued, describing certain parts of her marriage no one else knew. She watched as Andrew's eyes became more hooded with each small detail.

Neither of them made a point to call out or correct his nakedness.

But, as Patricia finished summing up her sex life, she contemplated bringing up her other kink. They sat in uncomfortable silence, until Patricia perked up.

"There's something else." She said firmly.

Andrew looked at her, "What?"

She bit her lip, deciding to do it, "You're father an- no. Better yet, I had another kink."

Andrew couldn't believe his mom was telling him all of this, but he listened closely.

"I... I had an incest kink," she spat the words out like spoiled milk. Her son's eyes grew instantly, which she took as disgust.

"Your father indulged me by playing out different fantasies with me. I would usually be his daughter or niece, a few times I was his younger sister."

Andrew couldn't believe what he'd heard. His own mother was admitting being into incest. Suddenly, he felt more than just turned on. He felt a dirty hope creeping through him.

"Mom," she looked up at him. "You deserve more than just a fantasy." The young man stood up, his erection bouncing with his movements.