Confessions of a Motherfucker Ch. 05 - Sex Stories

Confessions of a Motherfucker Ch. 05

I followed her at a more leisurely pace. In the kitchen I made coffee and then went to sit on the back porch and watch my mother select the switch I would use on her ass later in the evening.

And I won't deny that I enjoyed watching her.

She looked wild out there in the yard. It's a big back yard and from time to time I tended to it. In the middle was a big Willow tree that, I was told several times, was "my" tree since they had planted it about a month after they brought me home from the hospital. She was going through it, almost branch by branch, and for some reason, I thought about something I had read once, in a historical story or article or maybe some original document, a diary, or something. Anyway, I seemed to remember that a "Willow Switch" was the preferred device for administering punishment to wayward children.

So I looked it up.

Leaning back in the Adirondack chair, sipping coffee, I opened the Google app on my cell phone and started research.

I started with the search term "willow switch," and sure enough, there it was.

So I sipped and read and watched Mom as she finally seemed to select the "right" branch.

Mostly I thought.

I've always been one of those guys who thought of a woman, well, not even a woman to be honest, of a pussy as a goal to be scored on. I chuckled a little as I watched Mom working to get the branch broken off of the tree, and remembered how casually my cousin, well, Mom's cousin so I guess he was my cousin too.

I ...

... wander.

I remembered how casually my cousin, fresh out of the Navy and living with us while he resettled, had talked about women. He used me as a shill, although I didn't realize it at the time, as he hustled pool in local bars. He'd slip me a beer between games and then comment on the women there.

Mostly, I thought about the streak of sadism I had always recognized in myself and got hard again at the thought that I would be able to indulge it with my mother and justify it as something she "needed."

No, I'm not proud of that morning, but I'm not ashamed of it either. It's a part of me and while my time with my mother let me accept it and, to be perfectly clinical about it, let me hone my technique, Iwas giving her something she both wanted and needed. We talked a few times, seriously, about her and her disease and I realized, even as a barely legal young man, how frightened she was. But I also understood that I was giving her respite from that fear.

And yeah, I suppose I'm justifying myself, but there it is.

But that morning, as I watched her select her switch, I hadn't thought that all through. I just knew how damn excited I was.

When Mom came onto the porch and handed me the branch she had broken off of the tree I felt it and thought it was about right. At the thick end, it was about a half inch in diameter and it tapered over a three-foot length to, well, nothing at the tip where a small leaf grew.

I smiled and handed her my cup.

"Refill please," I ...