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Happy New Year, I hope Santa brought you everything you wanted; or at least some decent socks!
I’ve received some feedback and constructive criticism on my stories over the holidays as I’ve been on a mini-hiatus. Almost all of it has been positive so thank you for that. Some, however, has been a touch negative.
To those people can I just say, “I’m not writing a textbook.” I don’t have a sister in real life, I don’t have any experience or insight into the real-world workings of the types of relationships WHICH I’M MAKING UP AS I GO ALONG in these stories!
I’ve always made it clear that I’m not writing about our corrupt, COVID-19 infested reality. I’m writing about beautiful people in a beautiful world where things are a bit more relaxed, a bit more laid back than here. I like it there; I’d like to live there. And I do, in my head and on these pages. I’d hoped you all could too.
Ultimately, don’t take it too seriously, I certainly won’t.
Just read, laugh and… do whatever else you do in the privacy of your own homes! There might not be much of that in this chapter to be fair, I had to advance the plot through some choppy waters and there wasn’t much room for sexy time. Don’t worry, the randy fuckers will be back on form next time!
All characters are over 18 and are consenting adults.
Having said all that I have broached a subject here with one character which references a certain mental health difficulty. In no way do I mean to diminish the suffering of anyone who struggles with this issue in real life. Also, I’m not trying to offend anyone dear readers. It’s meant solely as a lazy way for me to advance the story and provide some drama for the characters herein.
If you’re not sure, please feel free to look elsewhere, but I hope you’ll try.
The next morning I woke up first, taking a quiet moment to myself to reflect on the previous day’s events. I’d never actually had my wildest dreams come true before and honestly, it’s a little bewildering. It quickly became clear that I wasn’t going to leap out of bed shouting Eureka, having solved the deepest mysteries of the universe. What I did decide was that since I had somehow ended up both in bed with and in love with my perfect woman; I was just going to enjoy the ever-loving shit out of it!
I slipped from under the covers and grabbed Flo’s robe – a sexy pink lace thing of course. I scooted to the bathroom to release my usual morning pressure and then went down to the kitchen to start on breakfast.
I had envisaged a magnificent movie-style tray of fruit, croissants, cheeses and juice but settled instead for cereal and milk. I found a tray in the 23rd cupboard I checked but by then I’d made so much noise searching, that Flo had woken up and slid quietly into the kitchen.
Her lithe body glided up behind me and moulded itself to mine.
“Morning baby, that’s a very sexy robe you’re not really wearing there,” she said, her arms encircling my waist from the back.
“It’s a little frilly for me but I do like the way it leaves my bum totally exposed,” I replied, turning to face her. She was completely naked! “I like your robe too, risqué and sexy but practical too.”
“Yes, it’s very low maintenance, I don’t have to wash it but it does get a little chilly in the winter,” she giggled, kissing me warmly, the perfect start to any day. We necked and groped for a minute or two, both just relishing the contact and emotion of being this close to another human being.
“Here, I was going to bring this up on a tray my queen but, it’s not quite as romantic as it was meant to be,” I said pointing to the cereal box on the countertop. I stripped off the robe and gave it to her, running upstairs, ‘tackle out’, to grab my shorts and t-shirt.
I was gone no more than two minutes, but the kitchen was transformed. The radio was playing a silky-smooth jazz number, there was warm light spilling out from under the cabinets and buttery croissants were warming under the grill. There was orange juice in tall glasses by my plate, the smell of fresh coffee permeated the air and the fruit I had imagined had appeared on my plate as if by magic. Women are just better at some things. Miles better if I’m honest!
“Not fair,” I whined, “this is exactly how it appeared in my head. I just didn’t have time.”
“It’s my fault really,” she said, “if I hadn’t hidden the tray in the tray shaped cupboard with TRAYS written on it, I’m sure you would have had time to do this too!”
“Oh shut up and feed me, woman, I know you’re dying to,” I said, kissing the side of her neck before sitting down.
We enjoyed the glorious repast and talked about what I would say to mum later. In the end, we agreed to play it by ear, to trust casino siteleri my instincts, now that I had a little more insight into her mindset. Flo wouldn’t let me help tidy up, telling me to get showered, get home and keep her informed of my progress. After one more soul kiss, I was on my way.
The drive home took about half an hour. Along the way, I tried to picture various scenarios in my head as to how I should approach mum. Of course, I knew it all depended on her mood, on whether or not she was still in ‘the zone’.
None of my mental images prepared me for what I actually found.
I drove up the drive, parking beside the kitchen window, honking the horn; experience has told me it was best not to surprise her.
The back door was locked – odd… It was always the main access point to the house. I tried my key but hers must have still been in the lock on the other side as it wouldn’t go all the way in. I rang the landline number and could hear it ringing inside the house. It was extra loud; we’d fitted an additional bell outside mum’s office as she often didn’t hear it in there.
It rang out so I switched to her mobile. It rang for thirty seconds before switching to voicemail, so it was charged and turned on, this was weird; worrying even. I banged on the door and called for her but there was no answer. I didn’t carry a front door key on my ring but I suddenly remembered there was a spare one hidden in the garage.
Bollocks, it was in a tin box at the bottom of the freezer at about -30°C! Needs must though, so I set about lifting out legs of lamb, leftover chilli and about fifty bags of frozen peas before I spotted it. It was so cold but I lifted it out and put everything back, hoping it would warm up in the meantime.
It had; runnels of condensation had started to appear on its surface. I used a screwdriver to prise off the lid and headed around to the front of the house armed with the two keys I’d found.
Opening the two locks I entered my home. It was strange, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d come through the front door like this — I felt like a guest entering a stranger’s house. I called out to mum but there was no answer. Her keys were in the bowl in the hall so she was here somewhere. I ran up the stairs, becoming increasingly worried. Her bedroom was empty, the bed unused. The other bedrooms were empty too. Could she be in her office? Pulling an all-nighter?
I went back downstairs and along the corridor to her office. As a child, I had only ever been in there by invitation and then only rarely. Just as with my entry through the front door, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been in there. I knocked but got no reply, was that music I could hear? Cheesy saxophone music? Mum didn’t listen to that, she liked classical stuff, the music you could dance to.
I screwed my courage to the sticking place and opened the door, walking inside. Into… a sex dungeon! Not really but that was my initial reaction. There was an enormous TV on the far wall, twice the size of the one in the lounge. On it was a torrid sex scene, a guy and two girls writhing together on a bed. Two other girls were standing astride them, pissing freely! The girls on the bed moved to intercept their golden streams… with their mouths! Holy shit! This filth was the source of the saxophone. The lewd sexual sounds and shitty music were incredibly loud, this room must have some heavy-duty sound insulation, I remember thinking — no wonder mum hadn’t heard the phone calls or me knocking.
She was there, in front of the TV, transfixed by the extraordinary imagery. She was sitting on some sort of child’s seat. It was weird, it was very low to the ground and she was astride it like riding a horse. Suddenly I managed to piece together the full picture. The room was lit only by the glow from the TV screen, so it was fairly dim. As my eyes adjusted I realised that mum was sitting, no she was riding on a Sybian! I’d seen them online and the girls using them all seemed to agree that it worked pretty well. Mum was bouncing on hers, this allowed me to see that she had a dildo attachment sliding up into her pussy. Each time she landed on it she let out a little grunt and rolled her hips, presumably making the most of whatever vibration setting she was using.
I was about to just leave when the phone rang out in the hall. With the door open it was now quite easily audible and mum must have realised what that meant. She twisted around, saw me, screamed and fell sideways on to the floor. I hurried over, worried that she had hurt herself. She was tucked in the foetal position and screamed at me:
“Get out you filthy pervert! What are you doing here spying on me? Get out! Get out! Get out!”
I backed away, mortified, turned and scarpered, stopping in the kitchen to catch my breath. The phone was still ringing so I checked the caller id — unknown number. I let it ring out until the machine answered. As usual with such calls, there was no message.
I put canlı casino the kettle on to boil and prepared the teapot, wondering the whole time if mum was going to come out or lock herself away again. I couldn’t hear the porno soundtrack anymore but she might have just closed the door.
It turned out she hadn’t, she’d switched it off and wrapped herself up in a big white fluffy robe and come into the kitchen behind me.
“I’m sorry John for how I reacted there, you frightened me and I felt rather embarrassed as you can imagine,” she said quietly.
“I don’t know why,” I said, “you caught me jerking off at least twice in this house, turnabout is fair play surely!”
“You were a teenage boy, riven by filthy hormones. I am an old woman, plus you have now seen that my set up is a little more elaborate than a copy of Penthouse and a crusty old sock!”
Mum was in a strange mood, half puritan and half flirty minx. It felt weird, I didn’t know how to play it, so I went with my strength, embarrassing attempts at humour:
“Man I would have been the king of the school with a setup like that. I know Maryanne Adams ‘mother supposedly had a Sybian and she had more sleepovers than any girl in the county!” I smirked. I didn’t think I could relate to the puritan side of her, it was so alien, so I hoped I could tease out the sexy side, at least I understood that a bit.
“Yes Jeanne Adams was in our little society, hers was the first one I ever saw; or tried out for that matter!” mum smiled wistfully, a little embarrassed.
“Society? MA you mean?” I asked.
“MA, I don’t know what that is,” she cocked her head.
“Masturbators Anonymous,” I answered, “I didn’t think you knew; I never saw you at any meetings!”
Mum laughed a throaty, sexy laugh just like Flo. I hadn’t heard one like that from her in a very long time. “I was right,” she exclaimed, “you are a pervert!”
“Guilty as charged,” I said, “but in mitigation your honour I did grow up in a home with a super sexy mother who had her own secret sex dungeon!”
She had been walking towards me, but at this she shrieked and ran the last few steps, slapping me playfully on the forearm. I gathered her up in my arms and twirled her round and round.
“A mother who incidentally, is much sexier now than she ever was back then, now that I know her deepest, darkest secret…” I teased.
“Ha, that’s not even close to my deepest, darkest secret, little boy,” she said sexily, looking down at me from where I was holding her up high.
I let her drop back to her feet, now I was looking down at her. “Challenge accepted! Milady’s secret will be known to me before nightfall, or I’ll be… fuck the kettle’s going crazy again!”
I kept meaning to buy a new one, ours kept boiling and didn’t switch off automatically, filling the kitchen with steam. I flicked it off and filled the teapot. I emptied the kettle and unplugged it, making a mental note to get a new one later that day.
I looked back at mum leaning against the island, staring at me quizzically. “Are you fucking my sister?” she asked quietly.
I moved to her, taking her hands in mine, holding them to my chest. The jokey flirty stuff was over, it was nitty-gritty time now.
“It started yesterday. I accidentally learned how I got my name and in telling me the story all of Flo’s defensive walls just collapsed. Her love for me poured out and met with my equal and opposite love for her. We went from a silly game of grab ass to being essentially married in about half an hour. I can’t explain it. We’ve been in love with each other for years but we both had suppressed it with every ounce of our willpower. We just couldn’t anymore.” I shrugged apologetically.
“She told you… about… John?”
“I asked her why she didn’t have kids and she just about had a seizure. Then it all just came pouring out. Why didn’t you ever tell me?” I asked. I felt I had a right to know why I carried the name I did.
“It’s my second deepest, second darkest secret, those only come to light in exceptional circumstances, as I think you discovered yesterday. I’m sorry, I could never tell you when your dad was alive and we’ve been drifting apart ever since. I didn’t want to make that any worse.” I could tell she was hurting but we hadn’t talked like this… ever, I thought. I had to press on:
“So you went with keeping enormous, life-changing secrets from me as the best way to maintain a healthy relationship? I’m not sure that hypothesis would fly with the Royal Society.”
“Oh, John. Darling, I’ve been so paralysed since your daddy passed away. He used to help me, to keep me sane and moving in the right direction. Since he’s been gone I’ve been afraid to do anything in case I go too far or get lost and can’t come back.” She wasn’t making sense and I said as much:
“I don’t understand what that means mum. I’m working with a very limited dataset. There’s not enough here to make a hypothesis.” I tried using science speak but was pretty sure kaçak casino I’d cocked it up royally.
“You’re right, I’ve kept so many things secret. You don’t know anything about me, your own mother. You know enough about my twin sister to be head over heels in love with her but you and I don’t even have enough common ground to have a simple conversation.” She began to cry! I was so confused.
I poured out two mugs of tea, it was like tar because I’d left it so long but it did give me a nice caffeine hit as a result.
“You’re a man now son, I have to be able to trust you with some of my burdens. They’re eating me alive and I’m getting more desperate for an answer every day. Will you help me, baby? Please?” She seemed genuinely distressed and I hated that.
“I’ll go to the ends of the earth to help you, mum. Me and Flo both, we talked about a lot of stuff yesterday. I think she knows more than she lets on, I suspect she’d prefer I hear it from you rather than her though. You can tell me anything. I’m not here to judge you. You’re my mum, I could never do that. I owe you my life, I’ve lived inside your body, I’m a part of you, always was, always will be.” I felt nothing but love for her. If I could take away an ounce of her pain I would give my life gladly.
“I still remember when Jennifer first called you The Glue. She was only four or five but she was right then and she’s right now. There’s a lot of your father in you, it pains me that you never met as adults, he would have been so proud of you. He had great empathy for other people but me especially. He understood my problems, well it was just my problem back then and while he couldn’t fix it himself he made a great sacrifice to find a solution that worked for me. Not so much for him but he didn’t care, it worked for me which meant it worked for him.” She’d never talked about my father like this before, it was usually just silly anecdotes and jokes that he’d told.
“Do you remember that time you tried to explain General Relativity to me?” I asked. She nodded. “Well, I understood that a hell of a lot better than this. I want to help you mum, dad was able to, you say I’m like him. Why can’t I help?”
“Because I’m a nymphomaniac!”
I’d never realised how loud the ticks were from the kitchen clock. The fridge had its own particular hum too, normally these were all just part of the background hubbub of our home. Now they were the only sounds I could hear. I certainly wasn’t breathing. Mum had her hand over her mouth so I couldn’t tell if she was either. I did know that she was silently crying though. That had hurt. A lot.
I wrapped her up again in my arms and rocked her back and forth. We just stood there as the clock ticked, the fridge hummed and our tea grew cold. We remained there for maybe ten minutes before she quieted and I moved back to hold her at arm’s length and look directly into her eyes.
“I know that word, mum. Every schoolboy in England knows it, but I don’t understand it. Not properly, not medically, which is how I assume you mean it. Can you explain it, what it means? What it means for you?” She nodded and slipped onto a stool. I had an epic feeling of déjà vu. At this time yesterday, I was offering Flo a drink after a similarly painful revelation. It had worked then, why not now?
“I think I need a drink for this mum, do you mind? Would you like anything?”
“Yes please, just a dry sherry darling,” mum said, probably a good call so I joined her with one of my own.
“That’s actually an old word, from the 1970s,” she said, “it’s properly known as hypersexuality and basically means a person has an uncontrolled and uncontrollable desire for sex and sexual gratification. I have tried to talk with various therapists over the years but that’s all it is, talk. It’s not a choice that I make, it’s a feeling, an emotion, an automatic part of my body’s chemistry.
I’m not the worst case in the world, it usually takes months of normal activity for me to suddenly start obsessing about it. Your father found an outlet for me, a way to manage it. We had a tremendous sex life, I’m sure the average person would have found it extremely satisfying, but several times a year my desires would suddenly surge wildly. Way beyond what a normal person like Bill could keep up with.”
“What was his solution mum? Is it something I could help you with?” I was nervous now, I felt like I was on a frozen lake that was starting to melt. There was thin ice everywhere I looked.
“Do you remember when you were little, your father and I would take you to visit our friends and you would have a special weekend party and sleepover at someone’s house? There might have been ten or twelve kids there each time? The grownups would keep out of your way and you all had great fun?”
I did vaguely recall something like that. Stuck with a bunch of strange kids that I only met five or six times a year. “Yes,” I said, “it was usually someone’s birthday and the party would go on until the next day. I remember my ninth or tenth birthday we had it at our house. I remember wondering where all the grown-ups were. There were only you and dad looking after all of us kids. Then they came back the next day and everyone went home.”
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