tagIncest/TabooThe Women in My Life Ch. 02

The Women in My Life Ch. 02



The second Chapter of the middle part of the 'Miranda' trilogy, Joyce, follows. This direction of the story was prompted by reading several mother/son stories that I found unenjoyable because the characters were unpleasant to each other. I hope that this redresses the balance. I should say that some, only some, aspects of this chapter and chapter 1, are autobiographical – not the sex. That is purely fictional. However, writing this chapter did cause me some problems.

I don't advocate Incest but I don't decry it either. If people are ADULT and not pressured I can't really see anything wrong with it although children could be a problem genetically.

Some of the feelings Mike has for Joyce are similar to those I had for my mother who brought me up on her own. However, Joyce and what happens between her and Mike, are purely fiction nor are they wishful thinking!

Just a note to those of you (anonymous) who think my stories to long. It's really the difference between a Macdonald's and a five course meal or a quick shag and a night of pleasure with the woman you love. Nothing wrong with either but, in both cases, I prefer the latter and my stories reflect that: And Willie S could be quite longwinded too! Nor do I think that Literotica is just a site for short stories, it's a fantastic resource for readers of all sorts of literature of all lengths.)

Chapter 2-Joyce


I'll begin this chapter simply by explaining, in a few paragraphs, what happened to me in the few months after that first momentous weekend described in Chapter 1.

Although I'd left school some while before, I could still have decided to go to university: mum said she could just about afford it. However, I'd decided that I didn't want to go to further education like John, now I wanted to prove I was a man outside the bedroom: I wanted to earn some money. I've said I was sharp, not really that good at studying although I managed OK at school. I was more streetwise. I did well as the 'runner', making quite a lot of money by betting using the knowledge I gained from the job. I quickly found that betting on horses is a mugs game unless you're in the know. I began to be and, later after they legalised betting shops early the next year, I was.

I should mention this because it was something I vowed would never happen again. When the local bookie decided to open a shop he didn't have need of 'runners' any more so we all became redundant. I still had my market job but that didn't pay very much, it was my 'running' that made the money. I was good at it; you had to be sharp to avoid the cops and the opposition: I was! That wasn't enough, however, to get me a job in the betting shop. Mum did that. She saw the bookie and arranged for me to be the only 'runner' who was on his payroll. I found out later how she did it and I was sad that she had to do that but that was the sort of thing she did for me.

This job paid quite well and it gave me access to information that allowed me to make even more money betting. I would know when a jockey made a long journey for one ride, when a trainer took a horse the length of the country, when a flat racer had it's first outing over hurdles, things like that. Add that to a good knowledge of form using all the books and I won most of the time, generally losing only when I meant to. I didn't make large bets, winning a few pounds, and I made sure I lost now and again. It wouldn't do to keep winning. I made my individual losses bigger and my winnings small but often: it worked. I built quite a little nest egg as well has having plenty of spending cash.

The one thing that sticks in my memory is that Christmas. I'd never really bought mum anything important. Angela would give me a few shillings and I'd put that with the money I'd saved from paper rounds and things and buy some small present for her. She was always delighted with it but, after this 'growing up' with Angela, I was less so. I wanted to get something nice for her and now I had some money it was my chance.

Mum never wore jewellery. She didn't have a jewellery box or anything like that. She wore a wedding ring, mainly to deter men I think – not that she didn't like men, she didn't seem to want outsiders in our life. I'd seen a diamond necklace in a local jewellers that I liked a lot. I was sure she would as well. It was expensive but I had determined to buy it for her and, as I had several wins just before Christmas, I did.

She cried, cried a lot and hugged me. She seemed surprisingly grateful and sad at the same time. I felt so, oh I don't know how I felt? Proud I suppose, proud that I could do that for her, buy her nice things. I had an understanding by then, that she hadn't many nice things and I realised, now I was becoming more aware of the value of money, that that was because of me. I never went without. I may not have had the best clothes, etc, but I did have them and that must have been at a cost to her. She was proud of that necklace as well, she wore it every day and told everyone that 'her Michael' had bought it for her. I mention it really to try to indicate the sort of feelings that I was beginning to have for my mother, how much she had sacrificed for me. My experiences with Angela were making me grow up in more ways than one.

Things were going well. I was earning money working in the bookies and I was making money betting. I knew I wasn't going to do this for ever but it was giving me a good start. I was continuing with Angela of course and enjoying every moment. Now I'd found out about anal sex and how much I enjoyed it I wanted it more and more. Angela had told me all about getting ready and how to do that and I had a full kit at home, hidden away. I was also testing out the local talent. During that period I bedded four girls, two virgins and two experienced, mind you I only managed to convince one of them to let me have her arse. My new found confidence about sex made me something of a 'Lothario' amongst the local talent. Looking back I don't think that I was that admirable really. I was a bit of a 'jack the lad'. Confident because of Angela, flash because of the money, shallow, I suppose, with women. That changed almost four months to the day after my first night with Angela, just after Christmas.


It was a Friday.

I didn't work on Fridays, my job in the betting office meant I worked strange hours. In those days they weren't allowed to open before 2 in the afternoon so I didn't start work till midday on weekdays, and they had to close quite early; I can't remember the time but I usually got home before 7 o'clock. I had Fridays off mainly because I worked a long day on Saturday, starting at 8 in the morning most times. There were always a lot of meetings on Saturday. As well, Friday is a quiet day in the racing world, mainly taken up with horses travelling for the next day. There was no racing on Sundays then.

On Fridays I would get up, see mum off to work then do the shopping, then usually lie about until late afternoon when I'd get dinner for mum when she came home. I liked to get it ready for her to save her doing it really. Strange I know for a bloke my age to cook but I enjoyed doing it for her and I'd often had to get my own dinner during the holidays when mum was at work.

On this Friday I was up as usual and prepared breakfast. Mum came down almost ready for work a bit later. She always looked smart when she went to work, smart and efficient. I realise now that I had been looking at her differently since my time with Angela. I was much more aware of women and how they looked primarily because Angela was introducing me to so much sex. I noticed how attractive mother was, how sexy if you like, although I must have, unconsciously I suppose, put it 'on the back burner' (to use a hideous modern phrase) because I didn't actually look at her in THAT way. It's surprising really and I can't explain it although, deep down, I must have wanted her like that. Well, at least I suppose so, because of what happened later, but I wasn't aware of it. It's so difficult to explain how I felt because, even now thinking about it all these years, I still can't explain it.

I heard the post come so I fetched it and flicked through. As usual there wasn't anything for me although I did notice what looked like John's handwriting on a letter addressed to mum. I gave the post to her and carried on making tea. After a while I heard what sounded like a quiet sob.

I turned and said, "Are you OK mum?"

"Oh yes, yes, it's nothing." Her voice sounded kind of broken, as if she was upset. I sat at the table. It seemed she was trying to hold back tears.

"Mum, mum, are you all right?" I said taking her hand in mine.

She took a deep breath, "Mmm, yes, yes, I'm OK. Oh Mike I've got this terrible headache come on all of a sudden. I think I'll stay home today. Will you pop into the office and tell Mr Wise?" This was unusual, mum never had time off if she could help it.

"Are you sure you're OK mum? I can get the doctor."

She managed a sad smile, "No, really Mike, I'm OK. I just need a lie down. Thank you," she said and she caressed my cheek!? "I'll go upstairs and have a sleep."

Of course I was worried but I had just an inkling of what might be happening. I was certain that the letter was from John, I recognised his handwriting, and I knew that he had become rather sweet on a girl at college, Amanda, Mandy, was her name. Now Angela had always said she didn't want our relationship to interfere with me developing feelings for a girl my own age. It would be wrong she said. I assumed that mum had said the same thing to John. Perhaps he had ended their relationship and that had upset her. It was bound to I thought. After all they had been bed partners for nearly three years. I knew I was fond of Angela and, I supposed, she was fond of me so it wasn't surprising. I didn't realise just how different it was for mum.

There was nothing I could do just then however, other than look after mum, so I shooed her up to bed with a cup of tea and went about my day as usual, getting the shopping in the morning. I made some lunch about 12.30 and was surprised when Angela came in about 45 minutes later.

"Hello Mike, is mum at home?" How would she know I wondered.

"Mmm, she wasn't too well this morning so she stayed at home. She's in bed."

"I'll just pop up and see her." John must have written to his mum as well I thought. Quietly I followed her upstairs and tried to listen at the bedroom door. It wasn't much good but it did confirm what I thought. I heard 'John', 'girlfriend', and 'holidays', so I knew something was up.

Well, they both came down about half an hour later and mum said, "I'm just popping round to Angela's Mike, I'll be back for dinner." She knew I enjoyed cooking for her! I noticed that she didn't have a handbag with her – perhaps the letter was still here and I could find out exactly what was happening. Yes, I know it was wrong, but I desperately wanted to find out what was making her unhappy.

I'd cracked her locked private box when I was eleven, I hate locked things, so I worked out how to open it quite easily. I didn't, repeat didn't, read any of her letters or rifle through it. Even at 11 I respected her too much to do that – but this was different. This was about her happiness!

In her bedroom I found the box and opened it easily with my special key. The letter was there and I read it. It was as I'd thought. John was very much taken with Mandy, so much so he was going to spend the summer holiday with her family. He broke the news gently to mother but it obviously upset her. He said he was fond of her but his feelings for Mandy were strong and he felt it best if their relationship ended. It was a nice letter but I wish he had had the courage to tell her to her face. It didn't break up our friendship but there was a period when we weren't so close as before. We were business partners for most of our lives and luckily our friendship remained intact. He was probably a bit ashamed as well but, in the end, our closeness returned. I hoped, as I read the letter, that when it happened for me I could break with Angela in a nice way.

BUT, BUT what was I to do. How could I go on being happy with Angela, making sure that she was not 'on her own' when I knew that mum was at home definitely very lonely. I put the letter back then went downstairs and sat in the lounge to think. After a while it became obvious, obvious what I should do. It sounds trite as I write it, as if it came to me in a flash of brilliance but it didn't. I spent most of the afternoon working it out. How I came to it, why, is a question I've asked myself time and again. Why did it become so obvious.

I was a man, I was the man of the house now, I would be the man in mums life! I would take John's place. She wouldn't be alone like that any more. She would have me for company and she would have me in her bed!

I need to talk about this now. This revelation has rather shocked Miranda and I need to explain it, to explain how I felt – if I even can.

Why did I make this decision? Was it for her or was it for me? Did I want her like that all the time and this was just a rationalisation. She was beautiful, of that there is no doubt, and a very desirable woman – I knew that. Since I'd found out about them, I'd often told John how lucky he was to 'know' her.

Was I jealous? I don't remember being. I've thought about this many times and, to tell the truth, I don't know. As soon as I made this decision I knew I wanted her as a woman, but I loved her as my mother as well. It seemed simple then, however, she was unhappy and I had to make her happy, but I suppose there must have been more to it than that. I was, as I've written, aware of her appeal so I think it must have been a bit of both. I wanted her for myself and I wanted to make her happy.

As to the issue of incest, having it away with your relatives, it didn't really enter my mind. Oh, I knew people said it was 'wrong'. One of the girls at school had been forced at a very early age by her father. He was put away and we were all told of the crime of incest. But I couldn't see it as wrong just then for me and mum. No one was going to be hurt and mum certainly wasn't going to force me.

I understood later why incest is so frowned upon. I suppose there are two reasons really. One is genetic. Inbreeding allows recessive genes the opportunity to wreak havoc. I'm not sure that is so much of a reason with birth control taking that out of the equation. I am more concerned with the control, the power, issue. Parents have control and power over children, older siblings have control over younger, and so on. Sandra, the girl I mentioned above, had no choice in the matter. While she wasn't actually raped, she certainly didn't really consent to what her father did to her but she had little choice.

Neither of these issues bothered me at the time. I wasn't really aware of them in that way. I knew about inbreeding from history, the Hapsburgs for instance, but I didn't even think that relevant. The more I thought about it the more I felt it was the right way forward. Mum wouldn't be lonely any more, she would have a man, a man she loved. Not romantic love of course, I thought (I was wrong!), but that she loved as a son.

Having made my decision I was determined to put it into practice but how would mum react? Would she accept my offer? I had no idea but I suspected that I would have to 'seduce' her. I'd done it a few times, at home as well. Having an empty house in the morning was very conducive to getting one's leg over so I was used to playing the Casanova in my front room but, and it was a big but, never with a sophisticated woman, only with girls who were, and I'm trying not to be arrogant here, reasonably easy.

So, to set about seduction, if you could call it that! First I had a bath, shaved (I found that now I was having regular sex with Angela I dad to do this every day – is there a connection?) and put on some aftershave. I tried to comb my hair but gave up before donning a new shirt I'd bought for Saturday night, some silk underpants, and dark slacks. Look, I'm not trying for the sympathy vote here, but I didn't look bad in those days!

I made something just a little bit special for dinner and had it all prepared to go when she was ready. Mum came home about 4.30. She looked a bit happier, giving a sad smile when she saw me. I suppose had I been more aware I would have understood her expression.

"Hi mum," I said with a smile and a peck on the cheek. My heart was in my mouth as I added, "Dinner is all ready to go, why don't you go and have nice bath. Call me when you get out and I'll start everything."

She smiled, "Thank you Michael. Yes, I will. A nice soak will do me good. You are good to me," she said with a strange look then she stroked my cheek and went upstairs. My full name as well, that was strange as I hadn't done anything wrong! I heard the bath go and just sat and waited for her to call. I'd taken special care with the meal, don't ask me why, I suppose I just wanted her to be impressed, and I'd broken out a bottle of really good wine, one of her favourites. Half an hour passed with me in my reverie, going over and over what I would say, before mum called down to say she was getting dressed.

I started everything and she came down about 20 minutes later. She looked ravishing! I think that she did make some effort to look nice, I don't know why, perhaps she just needed to look nice for herself. Her auburn hair was combed straight, reaching her shoulders, way ahead of the usual styles in those days. She wore some make-up, not much but just enough to enhance her lovely green/blue eyes and mouth. Mother wasn't a classical beauty, her mouth might have been a touch to big, her chin a touch too strong, but when she smiled! Well, the world took notice. She could have men drooling when she smiled. I'd seen her smile working on her boss and on mine. I'd noticed, of course, as I became aware of such things and I suppose that, deep down, I must have been aware of her sexually.

Tonight she wore just a tiny amount of lipstick, reddish if I remember rightly. I said she looked ravishing but I don't suppose she did really, just a beautiful woman using make-up to it's best effect. When she took trouble like this she seemed to have a poise, an 'attitude', the ability to be, oh I don't know really: a confident, self-aware woman quite out of place in the suburban jungle of sixties Camberwell. Mind you she didn't dress like this often, just sometimes when John was coming home I suddenly realised. Now she was doing it for me? This knowledge didn't trouble me, I'd made up my mind, having made my decision that afternoon, however, she did look very desirable. My heart almost stopped as she stood there in the doorway.

"What's for dinner Mike?" she said breaking the silence that she must have noticed.

"Oh, um, some lamb chops with my special sauce," I laughed nervously, "well it's gravy really but . . ."

She laughed, "You spoil me you know Mike," she said then added softly, "You look smart tonight, are you going out?"

"No, no mum. I just felt like being smart for dinner," I took a deep breath, "and for you."

She looked away and took a deep breath before she walked over to me and pecked my cheek, holding my head to her as she did so. Her touch sent shivers down my spine. She was so desirable, I wanted to hold her then, hold her tight and tell her I loved her and that I wanted her, wanted her like that, because, suddenly, I did. I was aware of her sexuality as never before, but it wasn't the time. All sorts of emotions were washing across my body just then so I was pleased that the timer went on the oven to break what was becoming a difficult silence.

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