1975 - Sex Stories

1975

... shrugged. I ate my dinner without even tasting it. “You are very far away” she smiled as she took my plate to the sink. “What are you thinking about?” I couldn’t tell her the truth, so I answered. “Was just wondering where my Dad is now.” She turned away to wash the dishes but I could hear the slight catch in her voice. “What made you think of him?” I wished I hadn’t said anything but at the same time, I also felt a small jet of anger deep inside me. “I don’t know” I answered. Suddenly I felt contrary and began to sulk. Mum changed the subject and began to talk about college. I leant back against the wall and watched her body moving. I stared at her behind and in my mind; I saw George’s hand pressing into it, his fingers sliding all the way in. Was he fucking her? How could he not be fucking her when he touched her with such brazen confidence? The next day I woke up late and Mum had already left. She worked short hours in a shop in the village. In the kitchen was a note which said she would be home late since she was going to see a friend and then she had a WI meeting. This was not unusual and at first I ate my breakfast with an empty head. As I chewed my toast however, I began to wonder. Mum would often go to see friends after work and she was often at WI meetings too. It was not unusual for her to come home very late. I began to wonder. I looked up at the wall where her calendar hung. Mum’s scribbled writing was all over it, often with WI written to mark a meeting. There ...

... was nothing written on the calendar that day however. My mouth went dry as I stared at the calendar. All that day, various thoughts and memories flooded my mind. I remembered the perfume smell of the bathroom and the times when Mum came home late smelling of alcohol. I saw her face in my mind, and the way she sometimes looked when she was on her way out; happy and excited. I remembered Sarah’s mouth and the way her breath had started to quicken as my hand moved down toward her crotch. All these thoughts and ideas surfaced in a maelstrom of confusion and before long I was in Mum’s room, carefully going through her wardrobe. I had never before realised just how many skirts and dresses Mum had, nor how few I had actually seen her wearing. Where had all this clothing come from? George? I went to her bedside table and slid open the drawers, one after the other. In the bottom drawer was a red shoe box and I opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a small note book bound in red leather, an envelope stuffed full of money and a polished wooden phallus. I stared at it in amazement. Until then I had never even heard of such an article and to find one in amongst my mother’s personal belongings took my breath away. I gazed it with a hollow feeling in my chest, then carefully picked it up and sniffed at it. There was a scent that lingered on it, a scent I was not familiar with and yet nonetheless felt something stir in my loins. Was this the smell of a vagina, of my mother’s vagina? I ...