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December, The Taylor Residence, North Wilmington, Delaware.
Russell Taylor looked out of his bedroom window at the street crammed with parked cars. It was the week before Christmas and Trolley Square was full of office workers heading for parties in the local bars and restaurants.
He watched a Lexus pull forward, carefully positioning itself for a reverse into the tight spot right outside Russell’s house. It was getting dark and a few snowflakes were drifting down, but the ‘Homewrecker’ on Channel 6 said it was nothing to worry about. The road was narrow, standard for North Wilmington row-homes. Russell watched as the Lexus driver took a little bit too long to get himself lined up.
Just as his reversing lights came on, a tiny orange Fiat drove up the street and swung in behind it, right into the space, claiming the spot. A dark haired attractive woman dressed in a black suit got out, clicked the car locked, and without a backward glance headed onto the sidewalk. The Lexus sat there for a minute and Russell watched with interest, wondering what would happen. He heard the front door bang. His mom the Fiat owner was home. The Lexus eventually moved off in search of another spot.
Christmas had come around so fast. He looked south along the street to the 4-way. Six months ago, almost to the day, his father had been knocked down there and killed by a drunk driver. Russell moved away from the window and flung himself down on his bed. He looked around the room at his high school graduation photos, his awards, and his University of Delaware posters. The Fighting Blue Hens mascot stared down at him. Go Hens.
Then there were the pictures his Mom had put up. He had no say in the matter. Martin Luther was screwed into the wall. He was an old stalwart. Dr. Luther was so familiar, Russell did not even bother putting a towel over him when he was jacking off. A more recent addition, his deceased dad frowning at him in a dark suit was a different matter. Dad got the towel over him on those frequent occasions.
Russell had wept along with his mother at the funeral. He grieved. More than he expected. But his relationship with his father had not been easy, or particularly affectionate. Now he did not know what to feel.
As he grew up he had often sneaked along the passageway and listened right outside his parent’s door, heard their bed creak and his mom’s quiet cries of pleasure. She would be mortified to know he had ever heard her. And now they were alone together in the house. But he had outgrown his lust for his mom a long time ago. You grow up and you get over it. He had girlfriends, of course, more than his mom knew about. But no-one right now. No one since dad died, in fact.
So why did he keep old pictures of her in his scrapbooks? And yes, on occasion, flick through them with his hand in his pants. Possibly it was because she was still a beautiful woman. His mother looked Italian, but she was actually from Irish stock. In his favorite picture of her she looked like an actress or model on the beach in her black one piece swimsuit. Perhaps a little like Eva Longoria, slim, petite, desirable. She had the religious devotion of the Irish, too. The Northern Irish. Cold on the outside, a raging furnace on the inside.
Breakfast With Uncle Gilbert
It was three days to Christmas. Russell was out of school for the holidays, while his mom was using up vacation in her job as a secretary at DuPont. She’d lose it otherwise.
Russell and his mom were enjoying a moment of quiet at the breakfast table, his mother reading The Covenant, her church newsletter, while Russell was catching up with the sports news on his IPad when the front door burst open and Uncle Gilbert was there.
“Good Morning! Can’t stay long. Everyone wants their cars fixed before the holidays. Is that coffee I smell?”
Uncle Gilbert worked at one of the big car dealerships on Route 52 and often dropped in on the way to work for a coffee. He had started this habit after Russell’s dad died, just to make sure things were OK in the household. Both Russell and his mom appreciated the gesture, but it was becoming a little wearying after six months. “Good morning, Gilbert,” said Hannah smiling at her brother-in-law. “Here it is,” she said, waggling the coffee pot at him as he put down his bag and briefcase on the table.
“Thank you, Hannah. Excuse me, I just need to check something for an eight o’clock appointment. Make sure the parts are in.”
Hannah poured him coffee and he opened up his IPad. Hannah was now flanked by two men in her family who had their faces glued to mobile media and were ignoring her. She did not think it was very polite.
“Please, both of you. Can’t we take a moment to talk. Otherwise what is the point of breakfast together?”
Uncle Gilbert and Russell both lifted their eyes from their IPads and looked at one another.
“Of course, Hannah. We are being unsociable, aren’t we Russell?”
Russell nodded. They both picked up their bags and IPads and books and put them bursa escort over on the kitchen countertop in a big pile, leaving the table free of everything except coffee, toast, and muffins.
“Much better,” smiled Hannah at both of them. “Now, how are you Gilbert, and how is Juliet getting on with her quilt?”
Ten minutes later, Uncle Gilbert had collected his things and was gone. Russell was getting ready to go out for a run. Hannah hated him running around the city. That was how her husband had died.
“Take your stuff upstairs before you go, please,” she snapped at him as he put on his trainers.
She watched as he collected his stuff and walked up the stairs to his room. His trim athletic ass disappeared from her sight. He looked so like his father, more so with every day. Better looking, even. She felt an ache in her that was not entirely maternal. She missed her husband so much. She missed the nights most of all.
Russell knew she hated his running, knew why. But he was not prepared to be a prisoner in the house. He went up to his room and dumped his things on the bed. Then he left.
Hannah had a routine. Although it was her day off, the place still needed to be cleaned. Russell did it when she nagged him, but he never did it quite right. His heart was not in it. Hers was. She enjoyed cleaning. She started with Russell’s room.
Hoover. Tidy. Wipe. Dust. Inspect. That was the best bit. She looked at the things he had left on the bed. She picked up his IPad, not for the first time. But it was always locked and she did not know his password. She flipped it open anyway and pressed the button.
It was fourteen minutes since Uncle Gilbert had left the house mistakenly with Russell’s IPad instead of his own. Uncle Gilbert’s IPad was now lying on Russell’s bed. The auto-shutdown was set to fifteen minutes. His password was not needed. Hannah was right in to her brother-in-law’s darkest secrets.
Eyes wide, she clicked on favorites and found herself in a website maze. She clicked on one and found herself looking at a video clip. Her eyes widened as she discovered what she assumed her son was watching for his entertainment. Good heavens.
An unattractive middle-aged man was sitting on a bench in a sauna. A good-looking younger man in his twenties was sitting on his lap. The older man’s cock was rammed up to the hilt in the younger mans rectum. The older man was sitting still but the young guy was wriggling around and looked like he was enjoying himself. The older man’s hand reached around, jerking the young guy’s cock and as Hannah watched a spurt of semen flew out of his cock up onto his belly and chest. A moment later the older guy clenched his ass and lifted the young guy a couple of inches, groaning as he did so. Hannah surmised that he had come, too.
Hannah’s mind was reeling. Was this what her son was doing in his spare time? She wondered was he the one on the top or the bottom, giving or taking? Or did they take turns? The thought appalled her. Her eyes drifted back down to the video clip, which she played again from the beginning.
Hannah had never seen anything like this. She knew this went on, of course. She knew what the mechanics were. But she had never actually seen it. She had always assumed she would find it disgusting. Which she did. But she found that it also had a terrible fascination. Her hand crept down and she touched herself up under her skirt. Her panties had a big wet patch. Almost unconsciously she cupped her vulva and started to rub and stroke through her clothes. She clicked on, searching for another clip.
She found one. The scene started with two young men, on a bed, fiddling with one another in the most disgusting way. At least to her mind. One of them took the others fat erect penis and put it in his mouth, sucking it with enthusiasm. The other fondled his pal’s balls. Then a woman came into the room. An older woman, about Hannah’s age. She seemed to take control. She grabbed both men’s cocks and rubbed them together, one against another, faster and faster, until a sea of cum oozed out of them both dripping down over her hands and onto their balls. Then, and Hannah could hardly believe what she was seeing, the woman licked it all up.
Hannah wondered what sort of woman would do that. Shocked to her core, she clicked around on mail items marked Russell and read them with anguish. Then, just as she was about click on an icon which would have revealed the IPad’s true owner to her, she heard a sound.
A crash from downstairs signaled the return of Russell. She held her breath but she heard him go into the kitchen and turn the faucet on. He was probably having a drink of water. She shut the iPad without switching it off and put it back in the exact position she had found it, then she scurried out of her son’s room into the bathroom down the hall. She pulled down her panties and sat down on the toilet, lifting her dress up around her waist. Her hands found themselves between her legs again as those vivid images bursa escort bayan ran through her mind. Soon she shuddered and an orgasm rolled through her body like a freight train. She bit her lip to keep from moaning. Then she sat for a while recovering.
“Mom, where are you?” shouted Russell from the foot of the stairs.
“I’m in the bathroom,” she shouted back.
As she tidied herself up she knew one thing. Her son was not going to be a homosexual if she could do anything about it. She sat there trying to figure out why he had gone that way. The next day she would go to church and pray for guidance.
She heard her son climb the stairs. Russell went to his room. He sat down on the bed; he couldn’t shower until mom was done. Russell swung his legs up on the bed and picked up his IPad. It looked the same, but he knew every scuff and scratch of his own. It wasn’t his. He realized Uncle Gilbert had taken his IPad in error.
“Oops,” he said.
He hoped his uncle would bring his home pronto. He had stuff to do. Idly, he pressed the button. He sat back, expecting to be asked for a password which he did not know, only to be let right in, just as his mom had been.
Russell, who knew his way around the internet a lot better than his mother, was astounded. Gay porn websites outnumbered work stuff on the IPad by about three to one. Well, well, Uncle Gilbert had exotic tastes. But Russell dug deeper. Gay chatsites and gay dating websites were there aplenty. Russell found correspondence. Quite a lot of correspondence, confirming recent meeting dates at local gay bars and public parks. Uncle Gilbert was a cruiser.
Much to his annoyance, his uncle had used the name Russell in many of his communications.
So Uncle Gilbert was gay. Russell pondered this, without judging. He felt sorry for Aunt Juliet. But perhaps she knew. He sighed. He had always liked his uncle, who had never been anything but kind to him.
He heard his mother come out of the bathroom and go downstairs. Too upset to stay in the house with him, she put on her coat and headed out to her sister’s house a block away.
Five minutes after she had left, just as Russell was heading for his shower, the doorbell rang. He went downstairs and opened the front door. A grey-faced Uncle Gilbert was there, smiling weakly.
“Russell. I left my IPad. I took yours by mistake.”
Russell retrieved his Uncles IPad from his room, made sure it was switched off, and accepted his own back in return. He tried to appear normal as he handed it back, but he was not much of an actor.
“Here it is. I didn’t realize it was yours until I couldn’t get into it. My password didn’t work,” lied Russell. Uncle Gilbert had never seen a look like that on his nephew’s face. He walked back to his car with a mountain of worry in his heart. Russell went upstairs, showered, dressed and went down to tidy up the kitchen.
Two streets away Hannah poured out her heart to her sister Juliet. Juliet was a little heavier than her sister and five years older. But both sisters were still able to turn heads.
“It’s such a shock, Julie. I never suspected. Never! He seems so normal. And he’s had girlfriends. What am I going to do?”
She collapsed in tears on her sister’s shoulder.
“Are you sure, Hannah? People look at all sorts on the internet. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Hannah shook her head, her tears splashing on Juliet’s bosom.
“He had correspondence with other men. In his own name. Well, his first name. He goes on dates with them in parks. For all I know that’s where he went this morning. The emails are disgusting — ‘I can’t wait to be inside your sweet ass again’ — that sort of thing. What am I going to do?”
“Perhaps we can cure him,” pondered Juliet.
“You mean counseling? Psychiatric help?”
“No. They’d just tell him he’s normal, and put us in counseling. We believe in the teachings of the Church, the word of Jesus and Our Lord. They don’t. We have to try and save him ourselves.”
“How do we do that?” asked Hannah.
“I don’t know. But if we don’t he might burn in hell forever.”
The sisters stared at one another in dismay. Juliet was even more devout than Hannah. After a long discussion about Russell, Hannah felt strong enough to return home and act normal.
“Now remember, Hannah,” said Juliet as she ushered her sister out the door, “Don’t confront him yet. Try to figure out what’s going on in his mind, how this has come about. Find out if he has lost all his interest in women. Try to stop him from meeting these men in parks.”
Run In The Park.
Hannah managed to act normal that evening and they both watched cable TV for a couple of hours. Then she made her excuses and headed up to bed. She knew Russell was likely to go out running first thing and she wanted to be ready. Sure enough, she heard him getting ready at six thirty. She headed down to the kitchen and intercepted him.
“I’m off today, Russ. I can drive us somewhere more interesting escort bursa and safer than around here. Less traffic. Why don’t we go to Brandywine Park. I’ll bring the bike and you can jog along next to me.”
Russell didn’t think much of this idea. He had his routine like most runners. But she was his mom and she looked enthusiastic. Why not? She’d be back to work in a week and he’d be back to school.
Brandywine Park runs along the banks of the Brandywine River through central Wilmington. Hannah unhitched her bike while Russell warmed up. He noticed something was not quite right with his mom, but had no idea what. He had to focus on his run.
“OK. Let’s go,” he said when he saw she was ready.
She followed along behind him. She watched his tight butt flex as he powered along the road, and the thought of another man all over him, pushing his revolting thing inside him made her shudder with despair and anger. She had to save him. Had to.
At first the run was fine. The park road wound upstream along the leafy banks, and their breath steamed in the December sunshine. The road was wet and Russell splashed through the puddles. Russell slowed a little as the grade increased. His mom, wobbling about, pulled ahead. He sped up to follow her.
Soon he was tiring, no longer able to keep up. He got clumsy. He put his foot down in a puddle that turned out to be a deep pothole and tripped. He put his arms out to break the fall and landed on sharp flinty stones at the edge of the hole. He gashed both his palms open.
Four hours later Hannah drove him home from St. Francis with both hands stitched and bandaged. She helped him into the house in silence, well aware that it was her fault. He had barely spoken to her in the hospital. She turned to look at him. He was still covered in mud and dirt.
“I’m sorry Russell. It was a bad idea. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
He was helpless with his hands bandaged. Once in the bathroom he held up his arms and she pulled his slick tee shirt off. She threw it on the floor and turned, unable to ignore his physique, admiring his pecs, his flat stomach and trim waist. She looked at his damp shorts and reached for them. Russell took a step back.
“Tell you what, let’s use the bath,” she said. “I have some bubble bath that will give you a little privacy down there. It’s down there you are worried about isn’t it?”
He nodded. She started to fill the bath and poured in some bubble mix. Then she helped him undress. She looked up at him as she pulled off his socks. She knelt before him almost in prayer, and a shiver ran through her as an idea came. Perhaps he would respond to her…
She went over to the laundry basket and pulled out a thin cotton shift she had taken off the day before. Russell watched his mother as she slipped out of her jogging pants and pulled off her top. She stood in her bra and panties with her back to him and unclipped her bra. Then she pulled the shift on over her head and turned around. She smiled at him.
“There. Now you can get me as wet as you want.”
Russell was speechless. His mom never changed in front of him. She seemed so uninhibited today. Hannah walked over to the bath and tested the depth. Good enough.
“Come on get those shorts off and get in. Turn away from me if you’re shy.”
He turned away from her towards the bathtub and she pulled down his shorts from behind, then his briefs. She stared at his perfect butt as he stepped forward into the bath. As he did so she could not help but catch a glimpse of his sweet cock hanging down. She was thrilled. It was thick and seemed to be sticking out a little.
He sat down quickly, feeling the hot water roll over him and relief as the bubbles covered him up to his waist. Hannah sat on the side of the bath. She took the shower attachment and played it on her son’s head, wetting his hair. She watched as the water ran off down his neck and chest.
“Keep your hands up. That’s right. Away from the water.”
She was in charge. She put some liquid soap on her hand and rubbed him down starting with his chest, shoulders, then back. Russell stared straight ahead concentrating on not getting a hard on. It was a battle he was losing.
His mother enjoyed touching him. She could see why men would find him attractive. She thought about broaching the subject of his gay problem, but decided against it. She made sure plenty of bath water ran down her arms as she scrubbed him, wetting her shift. It stuck to her and her breasts became visible as the thin cotton became translucent.
“Russell. Look at me.”
He turned and saw his mother’s breasts clearly defined through her wet shift, jiggling about as she scrubbed him.
“I’m going to wash your hair. Now close your eyes. Keep them tight shut while I finish washing you.”
She finished his hair, rinsed it, and without thinking, she scooped bubbles away from the bathwater. Her son’s more than half-hard cock staring up at her. She was fascinated, and encouraged. So the presence of a woman, even his mother, was having an effect.
“Keep your eyes closed. I’m not interested in what you have down there, Russell, and don’t be ashamed if you have a natural reaction. That’s perfectly normal for a man of your age.”
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