A Widow's Comfort Ch. 01 - Sex Stories

A Widow's Comfort Ch. 01

... the world, and got named William instead.

Anyway, I'm comfortable with computers and devices, but not so much with face-to-face.

So I thought and composed, and started typing.

WManchester3235: Mom. I should have called but I wanted to get this said and you know how I can be when I get nervous. I can only imagine how you are feeling now. Dad and I were close but, well, you were his wife and that's a whole different relationship. I wanted you to know that I moved out, not to just be on my own, but to let you and Dad have your privacy. I wonder, sometimes, if you realize that I realize the sacrifices you made for me.

But it's a big house, I know, and you probably could use some help. Say the word, and I'll be moving back. Honestly, I hope you do. To tell the truth, I miss you, Mom. The whole "being on your own" thing ain't all it's cracked up to be. But if you want me to stay here, well, okay.

But I'll still check in regularly.

Let me know.

I love you.

Will

I read it over three times, drew a deep breath, and hit "SEND."

I held still for several seconds, staring at the screen, I don't know, maybe hoping there would be an instant response as if she had been holding her phone, hoping for my text. It didn't happen. So I went into the kitchen of the little basement apartment I shared with two other college students. I could smell pussy in the air and figured somebody got lucky last night. I grabbed a beer and went into the front room, figuring that ...

... I'd kill a little time defending the planet against the encroaching mechs in myTitanfall II game on the xBox.

I was playing, but not well, when I felt my phone buzz in the lower pocket of my cargo pants shorts.

Okay, yes. I'm one ofthose people, absolutely unable to ignore my phone so I sat the controller on the little table beside my chair, leaving my teammates to die, and opened the phone.

ProudMama3235: Oh, Honey, thank you. I'd love for you to come home, but I don't want you to feel obligated. Yes, I'm lonely. Oh, Honey, I'm still in shock. But I'll be okay, I promise. You be good now, okay? I love you. Mom.

Jesus, I could feel the need coming off of the screen of the phone in waves.

Mom had always been my rock. I read somewhere that mothers and fathers tend to spend about the same amount of talking to their kids. This wasn't gender specific either. But the difference was, as the article put it, talks with fathers tended to be side by side while talks with mothers tended to be face to face.

That had certainly been the case in our family.

When Dad and I talked it was usually as he showed me how to clean a Holley carburetor or change the tire on a car. He taught me to bait a hook, how to follow the clay pigeon properly, and break it with the Browning A5 12 gauge shotgun he had signed for so I could buy it when I was 16, using the money I had saved from mowing lawns. It was Dad who put me in a quarter midget at 5 and served as pit crew while I was club ...