My Mother, Mine Ch. 01

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Ch. 1 – Interesting discoveries.

I wake up by a scream of my mother. Or is it? It was a scream, I am rather sure of it .. but maybe it was the neighbors? Or maybe it was just a dream..

And then I hear it again. More muffled this time, but definitely in our house, somewhere on this floor. And since there are no other women living with us that I know of, it has to be my mother.

Slowly I drag myself upright, wiping the sleep out of my eyes. Should I go and have a look? But my father is there too, right, that fearless hulk of a father of mine .. surely he can protect her if needed.

But .. the thought slowly takes shape .. what if it is him she needs to be protected from? Hadn’t I seen her look at him often lately with a rather peculiar expression? There was apprehension in it, it seemed — and a touch of docility, compliance. Whatever it was, I did not like it. My father is a bully of a man and I hate his guts. All my youth he has made one thing very clear: that he is the man in the house and that he rules. Not my mother, not his son.

And he still does, as a matter of fact. Even though it’s far from certain now that if it ever would come to a fight, he’d win. His slender son has grown into a well-built youth, as sturdy as he is.

Yet, I’m still ill at ease around him. Deep down, he still makes me feel apprehensive. The ease with which he claims his territory. The matter of course with which the biggest chunk of meat always lands on his plate. Some day we will have our showdown .. yes, some day. But that day hasn’t come yet.

Or .. maybe it has. If I can convince myself that I need to get up and see what that screaming was about. Is about. Because I still hear it, softer now, in a different pitch. Wailing, is more like it now.

Resolutely I swing my legs over the edge of my bed and I get up. I’m not exactly marching out though .. it’s more like tip-toeing. You never know, I’m telling myself, it could be burglars. Maybe I should bring something? Something to knock them out with, if needed?

Never mind a club, or something I could use like a club. The wailing clearly originates from my parents’ room. When I’m standing with my ear practically in their door, I hear my father too. He is grunting. The wailing has turned into soft, squeaking sounds. And in between this squeaking and grunting a distinct other sound makes itself heard: the sound of something flexible whizzing through the air and landing on something soft with a sharp whack. Something soft and fleshy. Something .. like the butt of my mother. I know that sound, from when my father used his belt on me, when I was still a kid.

God almighty, he is hitting her! That swine is beating my mother up!

My pangaltı escort first reaction is to storm in and protect her. But then I hear that the squeaking sounds don’t have a purely anxious pitch. There is something else in them too. Something like .. encouragement, no, craving even! And with a sickening twist of my stomach I realize that my mother wants this .. that she likes it. That she likes being beaten up like this, by this brute, this swine, this moron that is my father. How on earth can she want this!

Incredulously I stand there, listening, listening, holding my breath, trying to discern any other message than this totally unbelievable one: that my father is beating up my mother and that she loves it.

To make things even worse, I can hear her moan softly now. The whizzing has stopped and the grunting has turned into groaning. The sounds of flesh slapping against flash easily defies the barrier of the door. He is fucking her now! Gasping, I hear them fornicating, only a few feet away from where I stand. And my mother, my ladylike mother, must be soaking because I hear the squelching sound of her cunt anytime he is ramming his dick in.

Totally disgusted I turn and get back to my bed. Suit yourself, mum! This is no business of mine. Let him beat you up all he wants, since you seem to like it so much!

It takes me ages to fall asleep again. To my great annoyance I’m hard as a rock and my erection can’t just be ignored, I have to do something about it first. And to my even greater annoyance images of my father reddening my mothers’ butt with his belt keep cropping up while I’m desperately stroking my almost painfully rigid cock.

The next day at breakfast I try to avoid looking at my mother, but I can’t help noticing she is limping a bit. He must have taken her hard and strong. Well, good for her. She likes it, doesn’t she?

I’m still living at my parents’ house, but that won’t be long anymore, not if I can help it. Of course it saves money, but that does not outweigh my desperate need for my own place, the sooner the better. And now that I found out what’s happing in here, right under my nose, soon can’t be soon enough. But it would be hard to find a place cheap enough to suit my rather flat wallet. A student’s allowance these days would hardly cover the rent, let alone daily expenses. So three nights a week I work in a bar. That’s where I met my girlfriend, my sweet Jane. Tonight I’ll be seeing her, at her place; she does have a place of her own, lucky girl.

That afternoon I’m home early. There’s no one home, my father still at work, my mother probably shopping for dinner. After I have poured myself a beer, the image that kept popping up while I pendik escort was trying to unload my balls yesterday is back again in all it’s annoying , stiffening glory. Now the sounds are in my head too. Arrgh! Who wants to think of his parents that way! It’s common knowledge that kids never, ever want to know anything about their parent’s sex life.

But it won’t leave my head , nor my cock. And suddenly another idea creeps in that is even more persistent. Or an idea, it’s more a recurring question: are they really into BDSM? Would they use other paraphernalia as well? In my mind’s eye my mother is tied to their bed, gagged, blindfolded ..

Impatiently I shake my head, as if to shake off a mosquito buzzing around. What if they did, what’s that to me! If she likes to be his doormat .. well, not my cup of tea, but to each their own.

Abruptly I spurt upstairs, two steps at a time, to take a shower and then I find myself opening their door instead of mine. That is really an odd mistake, it’s not as if our rooms are next to each other! In fact, my room is at the back of the house, far enough from theirs to have some privacy at least.

Now that I’m in, I might as well take a look, I tell myself and I’m grinning. Whom are you kidding, Jack! It’s true, I am a nosey parker, always have been. So I swiftly go through their drawers and cupboard shelves.

It does not take me long to find what I’m looking for. Someone has made a halfhearted attempt to hide the stuff, but they did not really succeed. In a big box behind some vases — vases? Who would want to put vases in a bedroom closet! – I find what I’m looking for. A real nice collection of cuffs, ropes, collars, even spiked ones, a crop, a flogger, a nasty looking gag …

Downstairs I hear the front door slam. That can’t be my father, right? Not just yet? Seems my mother is in an uncharacteristically irate mood. Never did I hear her slam a door before. That butt of hers must hurt real bad, I conclude.

I hear her heels click down the hall and then I hear them thud on carpet instead. Shit, she is coming up!

Franticly I keep fumbling through the stuff in the box, still curious about the various tools, but not at all willing to be caught red-handed by my mum and when I hear her approaching fast, I just grab something and stuff it in my pocket. There’s just enough time to close the box and the cupboard door and take a few steps toward their TV cabinet, when the door opens. Clearly my mother is quite astonished to find me in here.

“Jack! What are you doing here?’ she asks me sharply.

A situation like this and her way of addressing me would normally have been enough to elicit a meek little boy’s answer from rus escort me, but now that I know what she is in to, my reaction is rather out of character.

Haughtily I look down on her; I’m at least ten inches taller than she is. “What’s that to you?”

That obviously takes the wind right out of her sails.

“W ..well,” she stammers, then resumes more confidently, “You never come in our bedroom, I mean, you don’t really need to be here, or?” Her voice trails away again.

“I do now,” I say self-assuredly, “A DVD I want to watch is missing, I thought maybe you guys have borrowed it.”

She flinches at the ‘you guys’ — I have never addressed my parents like that before, but she regains her composure again with visible effort.

I look around the room and smirk. “And what’s the big secret anyway? Is this the Holy of Holies? Are you hiding stuff in here no one is supposed to see? Least of all your nosy sun?”

Now I have her completely disconcerted.

“Of course not!” she blurts out. “What on earth would we want to hide from you!”

I just wink at her and walk out, leaving her in evident discomfort. Grinning softly I go to my room. Ha, that will teach her, treating me like a little boy!

After I have smoked a cig on my windowsill — my mother may not have that much to say in this house, but some rules admittedly are hers, liking no smoking inside — I realize her response was only too justified and prompted not by her own annoyance at all, probably, but rather by her uneasiness about my father’s reaction to my presence there. Ah well, he would only know if she told him, right?

And then I remember. That thing in my pocket — I don’t even know what I took! When he sees that something is missing ..

Hesitantly I delve up Exhibit A. It’s a pair of cuffs. Shiny black cuffs of a surprisingly light material, the key conveniently attached on a string.

So what now, smart boy? Bring them back asap, is my first reaction. My second one is quite different.

That obstinate image is back on my retina: my mother on her belly, cuffed to the bed, my father having fun with her ass.

And it brings out the same effect it had before: I’m hard as a rock in an instant. As I’m stroking almost casually, the image changes. It’s not my mother, cuffed to the bed now. It’s Jane, my sweet, lovely, cute girlfriend. What if .. what if I took those cuffs to our meeting tonight, to find out if she is into things like this in any way? She might be, right? Why not!

I conveniently ignore the fact that less than an hour ago I considered myself not into ‘things like this’ at all. If images like that have such a powerful effect on my cock, well.. there must be something there, or?

It is settled. I’ll take the cuffs with me and surprise my girlfriend. And well, if my father finds out they were missing .. I can just flatly deny I have ever been in their room. Let her prove it, if she wants. And somehow I have the feeling my mum might not be so inclined at all.

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