The Twisting, Winding Road



Looking out over the Puget Sound, I stared out at the low hanging clouds that drifted over the water. I had received some unexpected revelations from my daughter, which in turn caused me to reflect on my life. The seven-bedroom home above the Sound was a lifetime away from the simple four-room frame house and the life that mother and I had shared there so many years ago. Along that twisting, winding road, I had traveled to this point in my life where I was a widower now faced with explaining the past. But perhaps, as they say, I should start from the beginning.

I grew up poor in a small town in Kansas, the only child of the church secretary, a position that offered just enough money to support both of us. Widowed at a young age, she was a pious woman whose life revolved around the church and my upbringing. The frame house that we lived in was a two-bedroom, one bath home on a corner lot just a block from our church. My earliest memories were of me sitting in the front row of the church while mother played the piano for every service. We lived very modestly, and in many ways, it was mother and I against the world. It was always just the two of us as we continually struggled financially every day. As soon as I was old enough, I took on various odd jobs to supplement our meager income. We were effectively alone depending on each other.

Not that mother did not have any suitors. I remember many times an admirer would try to win mother over, only to be rejected outright. She had only one purpose in life: to raise me as best she could. Any suggestion by a friend that she needed to find a husband was ignored. Her favorite line to curb these suggestions was that I was the only man she needed in her life.

A simple beauty, mother was shapely, but thin, had light brown hair bordering on blonde, and a smile that would light up any room. She always seemed younger than her actual age, and her modest demeanor would never allow her to wear any type of revealing clothes. I never saw her in anything other than a dress that hung to her knees, or a full robe loosely fit so that it that covered up her entire figure. There was never any hint of sexuality or immodesty. Her dresses never showed any hint of cleavage.

Fiercely determined to raise me in accordance with the commandments of the church, she would tolerate no transgressions on my part. Although she was only 5’3″ tall, she could easily intimidate me with a single glance. Even as I grew to my eventual 5’7″ height, any hint of anger in her eyes would quiet any rebellion that I might harbor. I was expected to attend every church service, and no deviation from the teachings of the church would be permitted.

Until my late teens, I knew very little about my father. I knew that he had gone to seminary school where he met mother, and that both his parents were now deceased. As I grew old enough to be aware, I began to ask mother about my grandparents. She explained that she was orphaned and that we had no other relatives. I accepted that explanation and never pried any further into that arena.

As mother was very religious, our lives were intertwined around our church. We attended every service, and I always sat on the front row just across where mother played the piano. Our daily routines always revolved around the church, prayer, and the congregation. Every step along the way was her reminding me that of the importance of me walking the righteous path. And for the most part, I obeyed mother.

As much as I tried to obey mother’s wishes, boys will be boys. In the summer of 1961, I turned eighteen and began to stray just a little from the righteous path. I had acquired a full-time job at a local grocery store to contribute to our living expenses, out of which mother allowed me to retain a small allowance. Like any other eighteen-year-old, Saturday nights were always the time for a night out with my friends and drinking a little beer. I tried to hide this activity from mother, but I knew she always suspected. My only physical contact with any girl was Susan Wright, one of the local “easy” girls. In the back seat of a friend’s car, I had a brief liaison with her one night that was over almost as quickly as it began. I instantly felt the guilt of straying from the teachings of the church and decided that the best course of action was complete abstinence until after marriage.

Mother insisted a 10:30 p.m. curfew on weekends, a rule to which I faithfully adhered. When I returned, she would always be in her room with the door closed, prompting me to go straight to my room to keep mother from smelling the beer on my breath. I always knew that mother was quite aware of my arrival, but I still crept into the darkened house as quietly as I could.

The single bathroom that we shared was between our bedrooms, with the doorway leading to the hallway. Either one of us could simply step out of our room, take a couple of steps, and turn into the bathroom. Although somewhat Magosa Escort small, one of the unique features of our house was an oversized claw-foot tub, with the old-fashioned shower curtain around the top. It was wider that most claw-foot tubs, almost three foot in width. It seemed to be a small luxury that we somehow acquired.

This routine changed in a dramatic way one Saturday night. As usual, I quietly entered the darkened house and went to my room. The night was a little warm, and I completely disrobed and laid down on my bed. Once on my bed, I realized that my need to urinate was very strong. I quietly got up and walked to my door. Opening it just slightly, I saw that mother’s door was closed. Thinking that I could quickly step into the bathroom, I decided I could do so nude. It seemed so simple in my eighteen-year-old mind. Stepping quietly into the hallway, I turned into the bathroom and quietly shut the door. I finished quickly, walked back to the bathroom door, and opened it.

As I opened door, I suddenly collided with mother who was apparently reaching for the knob at the same time. As she reached for the knob, my opening the door caused her to lose her balance and she fell into me. Trying not to knock mother down, I shifted my weight backwards and began to stumble back towards the tub. Instinctually, mother had grabbed my shoulders to keep from falling, which resulted in our both falling through the shower curtain into the tub. The last thing I remember was slamming my head into the side of the tub. Then, nothing existed but empty darkness.

As I began to regain consciousness, I remember hearing mother’s voice saying my name over and over. Suddenly, the fog in my brain lifted, and I realized that mother had fallen on top of me and that the shower curtain had likewise fallen on her. The shower curtain had formed an effective net that trapped both of us under it.

“PAUL, ARE YOU OKAY?” mother asked anxiously. “PAUL!!”

“Yes ma’am” I replied groggily. “I’m fine. My head hurts but I think that is all.”

Then the recriminations began. In a stern whisper, she said “GREGORY PAUL THORTON, HAVE YOU BEEN DRINKING??!!! I SMELL BEER ON YOUR BREATH!!”

“No ma’am, I mean yes ma’am” I replied. “Just a couple”, I continued.

“What have I told you about drinking alcohol? You know how I feel about such sinful activities.” She then gasped, “AND WHY ARE YOU NAKED???!!!”

I began with a rambling explanation of trying to go to the bathroom without dressing, but that only made things worse.

“Young man, we can talk about your behavior in the morning, but for right now, help me out of this tub.” She tried to raise herself from me, but the curtain rod had become wedged underneath the tub faucet and would only allow her a couple of inches before it forced her back down on top of me. She attempted to push up a couple of more times before she asked me to push up on the curtain. I tried but I had no more success than she had.

“What are we going to do?” she asked. I responded that I could yell for help and maybe someone would hear. “You will do no such thing! Can you imagine the scorn and ridicule that would come our way? No sir, we will find a way out of this predicament ourselves.”

As she began to ramble about how to get out of the tub, I began to recognize that not only was she laying on top of me, but that her customary robe had parted during the fall and that her nude body was lying directly on me. I had never even seen mother in any form of nudity, and now I felt her naked body against mine. I distinctly felt her breasts on the lower part of my chest and her stomach lying over my groin area. Her legs were straddled over the top of mine. I had never thought of mother in any sexual sense, but nevertheless, here I was with my nude mother’s body pressing against my own nakedness.

Trying a different plan of attack, she then began to pull herself forward toward my head. As she continued to pull herself across my body, her pubic hair began to pull across my semi-erect penis, which in turn began to respond. Before that time, I would have never thought of mother in any sexual way, but once I felt the sensation of her breasts against my chest and her pubic hair against my cock, I instantly hardened. My mother or not, my biological urges began to arise with a fury.

She was able pull herself to a point where we were face to face, but her robe, caught on the curtain rod, continued to grip her shoulders. She soon reached the limit of her ability to move forward. The cloth of her robe had somewhat of an elastic effect, and as she relaxed, it pulled her back across my chest to a point where my cock was pressing against the entrance of her pussy. Feeling her pressed against the tip of my cock, I involuntarily arched my back, but as I relaxed slightly, I pushed sightly inside her.

Instantly, I heard mother gasp. In a quiet, yet stern voice, I heard mother say “PAUL! Are you… in me?” Kıbrıs Escort I tried to respond, but my confused state of mind would not allow it. I felt her try to move forward again, but the curtain rod acted like a ratchet and would not allow her to move forward. She began to desperately struggle to free herself from my intruding penis, but the more she struggled, the deeper my penis forced its way into her.

All my brain cells became focused on the warm, moist sensation that surrounded my member. As she continued to struggle, I noticed a change in her movements, a slow, subtle shift from chaotic struggles to rhythmic movements. I felt her breath on my chest begin to grow hot and measured. Soon, she began to work her hips to allow my cock to penetrate her even more. Mother’s pussy was incredibly tight and wet, and the sensation was something that I could never imagined.

“Son, this is wrong. We can’t be doing this,” she whispered softly. “Please stop.” But she continued to drive my cock in and out. “This is wicked, we have to stop,” she said softly without any conviction. “Oh, Paul, this is so wrong.” Despite her words, she continued to fuck me with her whole body. Freeing my right hand, I was able to grab her waist and help her ride my hard cock.

Looking back, I cannot tell you why I did not immediately cum. My brief encounter with Susan Wright last 5 seconds, tops. But this time, I was lasting far longer. Maybe it was the constant headache, the confusion that I felt having sex with mother, or the shear awkwardness of the situation. In any event, I could feel mother riding up and down on my cock. The experience was something I could never forget: the tightness of her pussy, the incredible warmth, the softness of here naked breasts, and the knowledge that I was fucking mother. What I now recognize as her coming orgasm, she began to softly moan into my ear and with her hands she gripped my upper arms tighter and tighter.

“Paul, this is so wrong. Don’t please. Oh please. Oh, Paul, don’t stop. Please don’t stop” she commanded. For some reason, that was my trigger that snapped into motion the signal that it was my time as well. I could feel both she and I as we continued to rise closer and closer to our mutual orgasms.

And then it came. I felt her pussy squeeze my cock with all her might. I could not hold back any longer, and I felt cum rush from my balls into mother’s pussy.

“Yes, baby, yes. That’s it” as she continued to squeeze my cock. At the same time, it seemed as if my own orgasm would not stop. Twitching and jerking, my balls sent one wave of semen after another into mother.

Gradually, we came down from the highest point of the mountain. She and I continued to lay in the tub, our breathing continuing to be deep and rhythmic. Soon, I could feel the warmth of my seed running from her onto my groin. After what seemed an hour, mother tried to push herself back up from our prone position. Somehow, our sexual act had loosened the curtain and rod, and she was able to rise out of the tub. She stood up, closed her robe together, and left hurriedly out of the bathroom. I heard her bedroom quietly close, and the lock engage. I continued to lay there for a few minutes longer. Finally, I got up, pulled the curtain and rod out of the tub, and went to my bedroom and closed the door. Laying down in my bed, I stared at the ceiling for an eternity trying to process what had happened. Eventually, I slid quietly into sleep.

The next morning, I awoke still naked on top of my covers. I could quickly tell that it was much later than the usual 6:00 a.m. Looking at the alarm clock, I saw that it was already 10:15. I leapt to my feet and peeked out of my door. I could see mother’s door open and that she had left. I quickly cleaned up, dressed, and headed down the street to the church.

Before I could even get out of our yard, I could hear the congregation singing and mother’s piano playing. Creeping into the church, I slipped into the back pew just as the first hymnal was finished. I could see mother from the back of the church (a first for me from this prospective), and as she finished the song, she turned slightly towards the congregation facing the minister. A slight shift of her eyes told me that she was trying to find me without being too obvious. I sat up straight just in time for her eyes to meet mine. Our eyes locked, and for a moment, she stared directly at me. I could see a flash of anger in her eyes just prior to her looking back towards the minister.

Confusion, shame, indecision, insecurity, all instantly reigned supreme in my mind. Mother was my world, and now that world was possibly crumbling before me. I listened to the sermon but heard not one word. I waited until the end and quickly left as soon as the service was over. I yearned to get home and resolve what had happened with mother.

Walking quickly to our house, I closed my door and began to change clothes. Before I could completely Lefkoşa Escort change, I heard the front door open. Throwing on my robe, I heard her close and lock her door. I hesitated a few minutes while I obtained the necessary courage. Walking into the hallway, I approached her bedroom door. I knocked.

“Mother” I began, “can we talk?” No reply came from mother.

“Please, we need to talk about this,” I implored. I heard her footsteps quickly approach her door. I heard the lock turn, and she flung open the door. Dressed in the same robe as she wore the night before, she stood there with one hand clasping the top of her robe closed. The anger in her eyes poured into my own.

Raising her finger into my face, she sternly whispered “what is there to talk about? That my son is a rapist who would ravage his own mother? That he would get drunk and force himself into me?”

Her words swept over me like a landslide. Initially, I was stunned. What happened was certainly not me raping mother. It was far from that. Regaining my composure, I fired back.

I countered in an elevated whisper, I said “I DID NOT RAPE YOU MOTHER! You were on top of me, remember? I could not move. How could I have possibly raped you?”

She angrily rebuked me again. “You made yourself hard and made your… ‘thing’ go inside me.”

“Mother, you were on top of me, remember? You pushed down on me and pushed your… ‘you know what’ on to my ‘thing’, as you would call it. You and I had sex, but I did NOT rape you.”

I could see tears of anger begin to rise in her eyes. “What happened, young man, is something that you will have to live with the rest of your life. YOU raped your mother. YOU ARE A RAPIST!” And with those words, I saw her hand raise and strike me across the face.

What happened next is hard for me to explain. In a microsecond, a range of emotions swept over me. Instantly, I went from confusion to clarity; from fear to determination; from subservience to domination. I was no longer the doting son. I was something entirely different. I grabbed her arms just below the shoulder. Peering into her eyes, I said “Do you think I am a rapist? Then let me show you what a rapist can do!”

Pushing her back towards the bed, I forced her on her back and pushed her legs apart with mine. Grabbing both of her hands with my own, I pushed them above her head and held them with my left. Then, with my right hand, I reached down and pulled apart my robe. Quickly, my cock became as hard as it was the night before.

“NO, son, please don’t do this. It is a sin. Please stop.” But my mind would not listen. I grabbed my cock with my hand and placed it at the entrance of her pussy. Slowly, I began to push the head of my cock into her pussy.

What I did was rape. But not with anger. It seems to be a contradiction, but I did not want to physically hurt mother. At that moment, I wanted to dominate her, yes, but I still loved her.

“Son, you have to stop,” she pleaded. “Please don’t. Oh, I feel you going inside me. This is wrong. You must stop. OHHHH. You are inside me.”

I began to slowly thrust my hips in and out. What little I had learned from Susan Wright, I was applying now. Soon, I was deep inside mother’s pussy.

“We can’t do this. We have to stop. This is so wrong. We can’t give into our wickedness,” she continued. Soon, her pleas alternated between stopping me and urging me to continue. “Paul, please don’t stop. This is so wrong. You have to stop. You can’t push it back into me. We know that we have to stop. This is a sin. Oh, that feels so good. That’s it, baby, don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

With those words, she began to wrap her legs around me as I pushed in and out of her. Again, as was the night before, I somehow did not immediately cum. Maybe the guilt or the confusion between our roles of mother and son kept me from orgasming. In any event, I continued much longer that I should have. But soon, her impending orgasm prompted me to feel the swell in my own loins.

Having loosened my grip on her hands, she wrapped her arms around my neck and began to coo in my ear. “That’s it, Paul, please don’t stop. This feels so good. OH, PAUL, THAT’S IT!!!! And with those words, I felt her pussy again squeeze my cock as she let out a loud moan. I felt my seed rise from my loins and gush into her pussy. Wave after wave of orgasms swept over us until we were both spent.

We laid there with my cock slowly shrinking until it was barely inside her. I pushed myself up and looked down at mother. For the first time, I saw her pussy, open like a flower with my seed running out of her onto the bed. Her light brown pubic hair was not bushy; rather, it was a small brown patch running from the top of her mound around her now exposed pussy. Her robe was still closed above her waist. Although I could see her breasts straining against her robe, they were still covered.

She had placed her arm over her eyes as she lay there. She was saying nothing. Reaching for her robe, I untied it and pulled back both sides. As with her pussy, I saw her breasts for the first time. They were smaller than average in size with her erect nipples still showing. Her body was smooth and youthful in appearance, not betraying her actual age in any respect.

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