Type, type, type Pt. 01

This is the story of the summer my life turned weird, 1977. Mom and I had never seemed to get along, but that changed after some perverted things happened. Perverted, but I loved every second.

Living outside Omaha, my family was already turning to shit. My parents had separated, but not divorced since it was forbidden in the Catholic Church. My twin little sisters, juniors in parochial high school, moved in with my dad, an Air Force officer, since he was usually over at his girlfriend's apartment. With little supervision, the twins knew they could get away with anything. My 'perfect' basketball scholarship older brother went to college in Florida and rarely came home, even in the summer. Sometimes I could see him play when FSU was on TV.

Then there was me. The slow learner, the spastic kid, the 'special ed' son. I stayed with Mom in our base housing. Eighteen already but behind my sisters and only finishing tenth grade, I was the quintessential problem child. Now it's called ADHD, but back then it was called "Settle down or I'll pop you on the mouth again". As a military 'brat', I didn't make many close friends, since we got transferred every few years. I definitely made bad choices there in Nebraska, as I got caught driving around in a Volkswagen my 'buddy' had stolen. We were drinking beer also, all of us underage at the time. Since it wasn't me who had actually hotwired the car and put stolen license plates on it, I got a suspended 6 month sentence and maximum three years' probation. The worst part was that I also lost my license until I turned nineteen.

Needless to say my parents had a violent reaction and I was grounded until my probation was over. So, I hung around the house after school, built plastic model kits and watched a lot of TV in my room. I cut grass in summer and shoveled the neighborhood snow in winter. I liked being a loner better anyway.

My mom worked in a medical office that had four or five doctors. She was a nurse's assistant, but typed insurance letters and forms also. She typed really fast and to help pay my fines and court costs, she put an ad in the classifieds and I tacked flyers to bulletin boards around the dorms and classrooms offering her typing services. Back then there were no PCs. Most of her business was from the University. Students with term papers mostly, but sometimes long thesis or dissertation papers. With the doctors' permission, she used the big electric typewriter in a corner of the office almost every weekend. On long days we'd eat lunch there in the breakroom, the only people in the modern three-story medical building. On the way to the office or on the way home, we were constantly going to dorms or apartments near campus to pick up or deliver papers.

Since 'this was all my fault' and so I wouldn't get into mischief, I had to go with her to the office on the weekends, sometimes both days. I took my homework but finished it early, then read a library book of my own or all the magazines in the waiting room. I wandered around the examination rooms, reading the diplomas on the wall and posters telling me not to do drugs or get VD. I was really shy around girls back then and had never even befriended or touched one, so there was no danger of Gonorrhea.

"Why don't you read these to me? It would be faster," Mom said about the papers on the second weekend. "It will help with your comprehension and vocabulary. Sit here." She pulled over an office chair. So, I read aloud while the typewriter hummed and rapidly clicked.

2

On the third weekend for the first job I grabbed a spiral notebook with a sloppy essay scribbled inside. After two pages, I noticed Mom's plaid sleeveless blouse was unbuttoned at a spot halfway down the front. She must have missed it when she got dressed this morning. The gap had a wonderful view of her cleavage where the cups of the white bra met the band across her chest. At the angle of how I was sitting, the resulting spandex 'V' left a nice view of part of her right titty. Her skin was pale, usually covered by her clothes or even her bare-shouldered bathing suit when she laid out in the back yard. I could see small blue veins under her smooth skin, which jiggled slightly as she typed. Every time she hit the carriage return lever on the right for a new line, her titty shook even more. Sure, I had seen her at the pool and beach, but my dick began to grow at the forbidden, closeup view of what had been lurking under my mom's clothes.

I kept reading the student's paper on Shakespeare, and tried not to be too obvious that I was looking into the gap. Eventually she caught me as the angle changed when she leaned in to help me pronounce a long word.

"What are you..? Benji!" she scowled, looking down at the opening, reached in to close her shirt and ruined my view. "How long has that been open?" Her beautiful blue eyes drilled into me.

Mom looked like the blonde niece Marilyn on the Munsters. Just over forty-two, she looked ten years younger and turned plenty of heads wherever she went. She was the homecoming queen of her smalltown high school back in Connecticut. I'm sure the mundane life she now lived didn't help her sour moods. She refused to go on any dates, stubbornly holding out hope that my dad would return to her. I hated that I had gotten in trouble and disappointed her. She was very uptight, proper and never very affectionate and that got worse after I had gone to juvenile court.

To her question about how long her shirt had been open, I just grunted an 'I don't know' and shrugged, which seemed to make her angrier.

"You should have told me and looked away until I fixed it! Not gawking at me for so long. It's rude and very...improper." She raised the completed page the rest of the way out of the typewriter, then sighed and moaned in exasperation, because I'm pretty sure she saw the boner bulging against a thigh in my pants. "Jeezum, Benji, I'm your mother!"

"You're still beautiful," I mumbled.

"Thank you but you mustn't do that again," she said, rolling a new sandwich of paper and carbon sheets into the typewriter.

3

Nothing was said in the car on the way home. I guess she just wrote the boner off as a random event. I jerked off three times late that night. I was old enough to buy 'nudie' magazines and before my probation had even snuck into XXX movies near the base, but this new obsession was different, depraved, thrilling. I asked myself 'why not think about Mom?', recalling the forbidden view I received that day and memories of her at the pool or making quick dashes around the house in her open robe or slip. I had filed those mental images away, but now there was no going back. It was like a flood gate opened. I couldn't believe I was so excited as I yanked on my cock and squirted big, gooey loads into already crusty socks.

The following Saturday at the office, she wore a red lightweight sweater and jeans. No buttons, but the material clung to her body and outlined the bra beneath nicely. It was strange to suddenly be interested in what clothes my mom was wearing, and noticing how tight they were.

As I walked behind her chair to go grab the next term paper, a sloppy mess in a spiral notebook, she mentioned the risk-free outfit. "No buttons for me to miss today," she joked. I surveyed the elastic band, gracefully arched across her back. The clasp just laid there, unaware of the treasures it held.

"But there's hooks!" I said, sounding like kid while I pulled the band away from her torso then let go. It was just an impulse. The response was swift.

"Benjamin Michael!" she shouted, using my middle name and slamming a ream of paper on the table. "How old are you?"

"Eighteen," I shrugged.

"Well, you're acting five again! I don't understand this regression! Do we have to go talk to Dr. Morris?"

No," I said with a smirk. The shrink was okay I guessed. He always said I 'acted out' for attention.

"Do I have to go back to spanking you like a child?"

Bent over, pants down, in front of my beautiful blonde mom, ass stinging red. For some reason, my dick jolted at the thought. "Yes," I answered, but she just groaned in frustration, not believing I was actually serious.

An hour later and after a horribly written paper on some guy named Whitman, I snapped her strap again.

"Benjamin! I swear!" she muttered, but gave up on any further protest.

Near the end of the last term paper, my throat was dry and I got up for water while she changed the typewriter's ink ribbon. I was enjoying my time with her. We shared a few laughs about the poor grammar of the student that wrote it. This office must have been Mom's safe haven; there were no reminders of unfaithful Dad, my nearly estranged brother, the bratty twins that never listened to her, or even stolen cars.

On my return, she was standing at the table stacking finished pages. Facing away, her bra closure was protected only by the red top. For whatever reason, even more attention from her I guess, I reached over and slid the two tongues of the bra apart beneath the thin sweater. They pulled away from each other as a wailing scream escaped my mom's lips.

"Damn it Benji!" She yelled, then exhaled loudly. It was pretty bad to make her use the actual 'D' word. To my surprise, she took a deep breath and calmed down suddenly. "Something must really be bothering you. We'll talk about this later." She stomped out of the room, I assumed to fix the bra. I wished I could have watched her re-hook it, another fantasy I never had before that moment. Just thinking about her titties moving around inside the loosened bra made blood flow to my dick.

4

"You're going to have to talk to me, Benji," Mom said in the car on the way to campus to deliver our work and pick up more. She sighed loudly "Look, I know you hate me and you're pissed the judge made you live with me. But you don't need to antagonize me..."

"Who told you all that?" I asked, but I already knew the answer.

"Your father."

"He's lying to piss you off."

"I don't like that word."

"Okay, he's lying to be mean and upset you," I corrected. There were lots of words my religious Mom didn't like.

"They let me pick who I wanted to live with. I thought you knew that. I didn't want you to be alone. I love you Mom, I never hated you. Ever. I don't blame you for my punishment. I know it was stupid to go driving with those guys," I continued, referring to the stolen Volkswagen. Then I talked about better days when I was little and some other mushy stuff. Mom was quiet the rest of the day.

That night after dinner, Mom approached me as I sat on our plaid sofa in our wood paneled den watching Kojak. She was carrying a folded bra with a price tag still attached and handed it to me.

"Here Benji, you can check this out without stripping me." She smiled slightly at her joke. "I assume you're curious about bras since you'll encounter them when you start dating, once you get your license back."

"This goes on the girl, right?" I asked, holding the Maidenform up. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm hoping you'll meet a good girl and this won't be an issue right away, but given modern morals and your recent obsession..." This one had three rows of hooks and said 36D on the tag. I knew she used to wear a two-row 34C since I checked bras in the laundry basket years ago. She gained a little weight I guess, but she still looked great. She showed me how the shoulder straps adjusted to hold up the marvelous flesh inside the cups.

"You know more than I thought, smarty pants. Where did you learn to unhook one like you did to me today?"

"Joanie and Janelle do each other's when they walk in the door from school. The first thing they do is go to their room to change out of their uniforms."

Mom grunted and rolled her eyes again. I didn't tell her that my sisters also did it sometimes at the mall or during Mass to piss each other off.

"Why did you show me a new one? You didn't buy this just for this little talk did you? Can I see some that you've already worn?" I handed it back to her.

"Wouldn't that make you... uncomfortable?"

"No it's nicer because you've been...inside them, like they've been...hugging you," I mumbled, avoiding the phase 'holding your wonderful titties'. Her eyes, still pretty, even with the day's makeup removed, grew big. She seemed a bit shocked as she rose to walk away.

"Thanks for showing me Mom. Most moms aren't so cool. Did guys have a problem with yours way back then?" I knew she met my dad last year of college, so she must have had a few boyfriends before him.

"Problems?"

"Unhooking, re-hooking..."

"Some did," she replied, gazing off into the distance, before realizing what she had confessed to. I was instantly jealous of these unknown men that got to see, feel and maybe suck my Mom's titties. "This is getting improper, Benji. Goodnight."

"Did they take it all the way off?"

"I said goodnight, Benjamin."

5

The next day we went to Mass and then to the office for more typing. It was near the end of the semester and the phone was busy at the house; there were lots of papers to finish. We went past suppertime and got Big Macs and ate in the breakroom. There was a window in the room and the setting sun lit the space under the table brightly, I had noticed.

On one of her trips to the bathroom during the afternoon, Mom had taken her panty hose off. I didn't think much about it until just then. She had worn a yellow patterned dress that day. It fell to her knees, and her bare legs were visible above her yellow low-heeled shoes.

I finished almost all of my Coke and intentionally knocked the cup off the table so I could clean it up. Kneeling on the floor, peering between her smooth thighs, I had a beautiful view of about an inch wide swath of her white panties, dutifully withholding her pubic hair and containing what was then a mystery to me, a pussy. After about a minute, she realized it was taking too long to mop up the soda. Her thighs snapped shut and shifted to the side as the cry came from above.

"Benji!" Are you looking up my dress?

An hour and a half later, after three completed short papers and an angry breakroom speech about 'moral decency' from her, then a long silence, I was emerging from the bathroom. Peeing before the semi-long drive out to the school to deliver finished work was essential.

"Benjamin, go to the breakroom, and lower your pants and underwear. If you're going to act like a child, I'm going to punish you like a child."

I could barely hide my grin as my dick began stiffening. Mom arrived, her scowl visible in the blue fluorescent light of the room. She grabbed an instrument tray out of the bin next to the autoclave, which sat on the counter.

The tray was shiny metal and about the size of a magazine, I saw before I turned to face away.

"Hands on your knees!" she barked. I bent over, cock completely hard.

Pow! The first smack echoed across the room and before I could register the sunburn-like pain fully. Successive, rapid slaps on my ass were accompanied by her grunting about me choosing thieves as friends, not having better sense, and having a perverted mind.

My ass throbbed, skin burning. She had hit me about a dozen times. My dick stayed hard as a rock and stuck out through my shirttails as I carefully hiked up my pants. During it all I thought about the unhooking and luscious views of her bra and up her dress. It was worth it.

"Benji? Is that...? Are you err...?" She apparently couldn't bring herself to say 'erect'. It also took her a bit longer than needed to turn her head away when my reddish meat had popped out. My mom was looking at my stiff cock. Awesome! I couldn't wait to get home and jerk off. Mom was probably ready to go home and find a mental institution for her horny son.

That night about 2 AM, I woke up to piss, and my small bedroom TV had static on the late movie. The RF interference, I later found out it was called, also happened when my mom was using her kitchen mixer. Otherwise since the static was always late at night when my mom was in her room, I thought maybe she had a vibrator, since other guys had talked about their older sisters or single mothers having one.

Before this moment, I had never thought about listening at her door.

I pissed quietly, didn't flush, then heard quiet moaning coming from her room. I laid down to get my ear as close as I could to the gap under the door. I slowly stroked, not wanting to squirt since I didn't bring a sock. Over the buzzing I heard my mom orgasm, I think. Her moans were loud and fast then long and quieter. Then it was completely quiet. Suddenly her door flew open with a rush of air. Mom was in a thin, short yellow cotton nightgown. I could tell she was pantyless. Sweaty and as close to naked as I had ever seen, she instantly placed an arm across her chest and a hand between her legs to cover herself and glared down at me for a few moments. I laid there on my side in my boxers, unable to move like a deer in the headlights, my hard cock sticking out. Mom said nothing but slammed the door so hard it bounced back open.

"Mom?" I said as I stood up. "I'm sorry."

"Go to bed, Benjamin," she said, her voice quivering. "Shut the door, leave it open, I don't care. Privacy means nothing to you." There was sadness in her voice.

I reached in and grabbed the knob. I could make out the silhouette of her beautiful body shape as she was backlit by the single lamp in the room. For a split second I saw her bare skin from the side as she yanked the nightgown over her head on her way into the bathroom. I thought about sneaking in in to try to see her in the shower, but after the upskirt peeking and now this, didn't want to push my luck. I shut the door gently and went to bed. Feeling terrible, I didn't jerk off or sleep well at all.

That sore-assed week started out kind of tense and I was amazed that nothing more was said about my eavesdropping. I hoped it meant there would be another spanking at the office.

6

The next Saturday finally rolled around after a very boring week at school. To my surprise, Mom appeared at breakfast wearing a dark orange lightweight sweater that had a zipper closure that ran down the front almost to her navel. A metal ring was attached to the zipper pull. I fidgeted in the car the whole way out to the campus and back. Mom said nothing, but I began to think her choice of attire was intentional, to test me or punish me by teasing me, I guessed. She hadn't worn that top since I was a kid; it now clung to her body nicely.

We reached the office and bolted the door as usual. "I see you keep looking at the zipper to my top, Benji," she finally said after finishing the first term paper. "I have to warn you, you'll be spanked again if you pull it down."

Of course, I was unable to resist. I had to see beneath that top, even if just for a moment. She was probably wanted me to get my perverted curiosity out of my system. So I reached over. Mom stoically ignored me as I slowly tugged it down, watching her lightly tanned, freckled and then untanned skin appear, her crucifix necklace, and then her bra, a pretty, lacy one she kept with her long-unused lingerie in a lower drawer. I knew that because I had carefully gone through her dresser earlier that week before she came home one day. I could see most of both cups, and the overflow of her pale globes that formed beautiful cleavage. Then I got the shock of my life.

"Okay, you've seen way more than a mother should allow. If you pull it back up now and never touch it again, I won't punish you," she said, almost in a whisper, like she didn't want anyone to hear. She looked so beautiful at this moment, even without the unzipped top. "Otherwise I'll leave it down, so we don't go through this little up and down drama all day."