Cuckolding My Father Ch. 13byD.C. Roi©
I was surprised to find a hand-addressed letter with a South Carolina return address and postmark in the collection of bills and junk mail that normally made up our daily mail delivery. The return address was "Mrs. John Wickes, RFD 2 Box 170, Walhalla, NC 29691." At first I had no idea why we were getting a letter from Mrs. John Wickes, then it hit me. Wickes was my mother's maiden name.
To the best of my knowledge, Mother hadn't had any contact with her family since she left South Carolina to come live with my father. I'd never met any of my relatives, either. What little I knew about my maternal grandparents came from stories my mother had told me. Of course she'd left her family home at age fourteen and had been gone for nearly a quarter of a century, so there was probably a lot about the family she and I both didn't know.
"Who's John Wickes?" I asked when I walked back into the house.
"I have a brother named John," she replied. "Why?"
"His wife wrote you a letter," I said, and handed it to her. I can't quite describe the look that appeared on mother's face. It was a combination of a little bit of longing, a small amount of puzzlement, and even a little bit of fear. Holding the letter in her hand, she walked over to the kitchen table, sat down, and continued to stare at it.
"Is John one of your older brothers?" I asked. I walked over and sat down at the table, too.
Mother nodded. "He's about ten years older'n me, I think," she said. There was a wistful tone in her voice and she continued to stare at the letter.
"What do you think his wife wrote to you about?" I asked.
Mother kept staring at the letter and shrugged. "Dunno," she murmured.
"You could find out by opening the letter," I pointed out.
Mother looked at me. "What if it's bad news?"
"Maybe it is," I said. "On the other hand, maybe it's good news. You won't know if you don't open it."
Mother went back to looking at the letter she still held in her hand.
"You want me to open it?" I suggested. "If it's bad news, I won't tell you."
Mother looked at me again. A brief flash of anger showed in her eyes, then it disappeared and she laughed. "Yeah, sure," she giggled. "Sure you won't tell me."
"I won't, if you don't ask," I said.
"Like I'm not going to ask," she chuckled.
"So...are you going to open it?"
She looked back at the letter. "I...I guess." She moved to do just that and when she did, I could see her hands trembling. I wasn't surprised. I think I probably would have been shaking, too, if I were about to have the first contact with a member of my family that I'd had in nearly twenty-five years. She got the envelope open, took out the letter inside, and studied it. From the look on her face, I was pretty sure it wasn't bad news. When she finished reading, Mother looked at me. "It's from my brother John's wife. They're having a family reunion and they want us to come."
"Us?" I said. "Him, too?"
Mother shrugged. "I guess."
"When is it?" I asked.
"Saturday, September 27th," Mother replied.
"You want to go?" I asked. Part of me wanted to. It would be a chance to learn about a part of my heritage I had very little knowledge of.
Mother shrugged. "Don't matter what I want. You know he ain't gonna want to go."
"It isn't up to him," I said. "If you want to go, we'll go. If he doesn't want to come along - and I hope he doesn't - he can stay here. Do you want to go?"
She looked at the letter, then at me, then back at the letter. After a while, she took a deep breath, looked back up at me, nodded, and said, "I think maybe I'd like to."
"OK, then we'll go," I said. "I'll put in for vacation for a few days. How big a town is Walhalla?"
"I don't rightly know," Mother said. "We lived quite a ways outside of town, back up in the hills. Didn't get to town much. And it's probably changed some since I was there, too."
"I can probably find us a place to stay on the Internet," I said. "What's a bigger town near Walhalla?"
Mother looked thoughtful for a few minutes. "I think Greenville's not too far away," she said. "Folks always used to go there to get stuff they couldn't get in Walhalla."
I laid my hand on Mother's. "You sure you want to go?" I asked.
Mother looked back at me and nodded. "Yeah, I think I do." She took a deep breath. "It's kinda scary, though. I mean, I ain't seen any of them folks for nearly twenty-five years."
"Do you know if your parents are still alive?" I asked.
A sad look formed on Mother's face and she shook her head.
I squeezed her hand again. "They probably are still alive," I said. "Look, they knew how to reach you to invite you to the reunion, didn't they? If your parents had died, they'd have written."
"Yeah, I guess," Mother said.
I had promised to make her lunch, but had been distracted by the arrival of the letter. I was still hungry, so I got up and began getting together the ingredients I needed to make the quiche I'd planned for lunch. I knew Mother had never made a quiche for us - it was something I was positive my father would never touch - so I was pretty sure she'd never had it. I like Quiche Lorraine, with bacon and onions, but I didn't feel like frying up bacon, so I made broccoli instead.
Mother had walked over to the counter where I was working and was watching me with interest. "What are you making?" she asked. "Some kind of pie?"
"Sort of," I said. "I'll tell you what it is once you've tried it."
"OK," she said. I knew she was uncomfortable with the idea of my cooking. She'd been told by her parents and my father that cooking was "women's work." Of course these are people who never heard of Emeril or Paul Prudhomme. "How long is that going to take?"
"Should be ready in a half-hour, forty-five minutes," I said.
"OK, I have some laundry to get done anyhow. Call me when it's ready," Mother said. If I wasn't going to let her cook, she'd find something else to do.
I finished the quiche and put it in the oven to bake. Then I went into my room and got on the internet to see what I could find for lodging in the area of Walhalla, S.C. I couldn't find anything in Walhalla, but I did find an incredible Bed and Breakfast in Greenville. It was a bit pricey, but the trip to the family reunion, if Mother and I were the only ones going, would be the first time we'd be able to spend the entire night together and I wanted to make it special. I booked four nights, Thursday through Sunday. After I finished with the reservations, I checked on something else I wanted to find out before I shut down the computer and went back to the kitchen to check on the quiche. The Bed and Breakfast was going to be one part of the surprises I wanted to give Mother. I checked and found out that I'd be able to get another part of my planned surprise for her in Greenville, too.
After the quiche had cooled enough to eat, I cut pieces for Mother and me and we sat down to eat.
"So this is a kind of cheese and egg pie?" she asked.
"I guess you could call it that," I said. "It's called quiche."
"Keesh?" Mother said.
"It's spelled q-u-i-c-h-e," I said. "French spelling." I chuckled. "That probably means 'cheese and egg pie' in French."
She didn't look too sure of herself as she cut off a tiny piece and put it in her mouth. After she chewed and swallowed, she smiled. "Hey, that's good," she said. "Where'd you learn how to make that?"
"There was a little French cafe down the street from my dorm in college that made them," I told her. "I got one of the cooks to show me how to make them. It isn't hard, really."
She ate some more, and her face again showed me she obviously liked it. "Was the cook who taught you a girl or a guy?" she asked when she finished her second piece.
"Ah...it was a girl," I admitted.
She ate some more quiche. "Was she pretty?" she asked.
I grinned at her. "Not nearly as pretty as you," I replied.
We each ate two pieces. When we finished, I wrapped the remaining quiche in plastic wrap and put it in the refrigerator, then I went to the sink and began cleaning up my dishes. Mother surprised me by not insisting she do the dishes. Instead, she sat at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of tea I'd made for her.
"That girl, the one taught you to make those quiche things," she said. "You do sex with her?"
"A few times," I admitted. Even though I knew my reply might cause Mother a little discomfort, I'd decided that I would always be honest with her.
"She good at doin' sex?"
I glanced over my shoulder and grinned. "She wasn't bad at it. But she wasn't nearly as good as the woman I'm having sex with now," I said, chuckling. I went back to washing the dishes. I was just about finished when I heard Mother's chair slide back and her soft footsteps on the kitchen floor. The next thing I knew, she was pressed up against me from behind and her arms wrapped around me.
"I love you, J.J.," she said softly. She hugged me.
"I love you, too, Jonelle," I responded. "More than anything." Having her marvelous body pressed against me was having the same effect it always did. I was beginning to get an erection.
Mother surprised me by sliding her hands down. I felt her stiffen and heard her gasp softly when she discovered what was going on in my sweatpants. She started kissing the back of my neck, slid one of her hands into my sweats, cupped her fingers around my rapidly hardening penis, and began stroking it gently. She kept kissing my neck. "Feels nice," she whispered between kisses.
Waves of ecstatic feelings were rushing through me in response to Mother's caresses. "Uh...yeah...it...um...it sure...it sure does," I gasped in reply. "God, do you ever do that good!"
She continued pumping my erect organ, and wonderful sensations continue to rush through me. "Glad you like it," she murmured.
"Like it...doesn't come...close to...ah...describing how...um...I feel...ah...about that," I gasped. "Hell...Oh, shit that feels good!...love it doesn't come close."
"Why don't we go someplace where we can do more than this?" Mother murmured, surprising me by how sexually assertive she was acting.
"O...K," I grunted.
We started down the hall and Mother surprised me again. Instead of going to my bedroom, she led me into the room she shared with my father and over to her twin-sized bed that sat along the wall near the closet. She sat down on the bed, tugged me in front of her, and slid down my sweatpants. I couldn't believe this was the same woman who'd been expressing misgivings about our affair earlier in the day, but it was. She cupped the fingers of her right hand around my erection again and resumed stroking it. She used the fingers from her other hand to massage the pre-cum she was pumping out of me over the arrow-shaped tip of my penis which felt as if it might just explode in her hand. She sure had a lot of natural talent at this, because I knew for a fact she didn't have much experience.
"Oh...oh, jeez! Oh, jeez!" I groaned. My hips were rocking, fucking my rock-hard penis against her hand. "Oh, God, Jonelle, you're going to make me come if you keep that up!"
She smiled up at me. Her eyes were wide and in them I could see the need burning inside her. "You like this, huh?" she said. "I like doin' it to you. You want me to make you shoot your stuff?"
"Oh...God!" I groaned as a particularly powerful ripple of joy swept over me. "I...Oh, God!...I want to shoot my stuff...in...you!" I managed to croak. "Oh, God, Jonelle! I want to come with you!"
She smiled up at me and began unbuttoning her dress with her left hand. When she had all of the buttons undone, she pushed it apart, baring her body to my fervent gaze. I noticed she wasn't wearing underpants. I swear, seeing her like that made my erection get even harder. "Put this in me, then," she murmured. Her eyes were hot, almost glowing with need. She gave my erection a squeeze. "Come on, J.J., put it in me!" She released me and laid back on the bed.
I wasted no time getting onto the bed, kneeling between her legs. I shuffled up a little bit, leaned over her so I was supporting my weight on one arm. I reached down between us and centered the tip of my bobbing erection against her opening. A rush of delight went up through me when I made contact with her and I gasped. I vaguely heard a gasp come from her, too. When my erection was in position, I lowered my hips and felt it slipping into her warm, snug, slippery opening. There is no way I can accurately describe how fantastic that felt.
I think the fact that she'd invited me to her bed was what made this session of love making so intense for me. No other man had been with her in this bed. I'd established myself as the dominant male in the house a in a confrontation with my father a few days earlier and now it seemed Mother was acknowledging my dominance by surrendering herself to me in her bed, in the bedroom she'd shared with my father their entire married life.
I began moving in her, trying desperately to keep my motions slow and even, wanting to prolong our delicious contact for as long as I could. Unfortunately, the circumstances I found myself in made that even more difficult than usual. I could feel Mother's body moving under mine, pressing against me, twisting and turning urgently and could hear the sounds of passion coming from her. They sounded stronger, more feral, than usual.
Mother's hands clamped on my buttocks and her fingers dug into my flesh. "Take me, J.J.! Come on, J.J., take me!" she moaned. "I need you, son! Oh, Lord! I need you!" Her face was the familiar mask of passion I'd come to enjoy seeing but there was a fire in her eyes I don't remember seeing before. That look ripped what little control I had been able to muster away from me.
'Oh, damn! Oh, God! Mother! Oh, God, Mother, I'm coming!" I groaned as my insides began the wonderful churning and writhing that signaled my release. I pushed my middle down against hers and held it there, holding my erection deep inside her, as my fluids, a surprising amount given the fact that we'd made love a bit earlier, gushed up through my body and blasted into Mother's.
I could see her eyes widen when she felt me coming and the most amazing smile formed on her lips. "Yeah! Yeah, J.J., darlin'! Take me! Oh, Lord, J.J.! Oh, Lord, yes! Take me, J.J.! Oh, yeah-yeah-yeah!" She had such a tight grip on my bottom I was almost afraid she'd draw blood. Her legs were locked behind mine and her hips were slamming up against me even harder than I was pressing down against her. I could feel her bed moving and squealing in protest.
When we finally came down from the incredible high of passion we'd shared, we laid in each other's arms, each of us holding onto the other as if we were somehow afraid of breaking contact.
Mother finally leaned her head forward and kissed me. "That was extra-special good for me," she said. "Was it for you, too?"
I nodded and caressed her cheek. "Do you know why?" I asked.
"I think it was especially good for both of us because we made love in here, in your bed," I told her.
She seemed honestly surprised by my comment. "You think so?" she asked. "You really think that's why it was so good?"
"Yes, I do," I said.
"How come you know stuff like that?" she asked.
"Because I inherited my smarts from my gorgeous, intelligent mother," I replied, and gave her a kiss.
Her eyes told me she was thinking about something, or might have a question. "What's on your mind?" I asked.
"Before, when you were standing in front of me..." she said.
"You mean in here?"
"What about then?" I asked.
"Well..." She took a deep breath. "I...I almost kissed your...you know...your, um, penis."
"I wouldn't have complained if you had," I said.
"Did any of them other girls you did sex with ever kiss you there?" Mother asked.
"A few of them," I replied.
Mother laid there, silent and obviously pondering something, for a while. "Did you like it?" she asked. "You know...when them girls...when they...kissed your...your penis?"
I kissed her deeply before I answered her. "Does it feel good when I eat you?" I asked.
She blushed and nodded. "It feels incredible! Nearly as good as when we make love."
"That's how good a woman can make a man feel by caressing his erection with her mouth," I said.
"I read about it on some 'a those web sites you told me to look at," Mother said. "I know it says guys really like it. But you...your penis...it...it really spits and..."
I hugged her to me and kissed her on the nose. "You don't ever have to do anything you don't want to do when we make love," I told her. "Not ever!"
"But if you like it, and all..." Mother protested.
"Think about it," I told her. "Read more about it. If you decide you want to try, believe me, I won't be upset with you." I gave her another hug. "And I won't be upset with you if you never do it."
The sound of a vehicle engine coming up the hill ended the conversation. When my father, looking disheveled and angry, walked through the kitchen door, Mother and I were sitting at the kitchen table.