Sisterly LoveChapter 13
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Sisterly LoveChapter 8 free porn video
Some of the following I found out later on, but it seems to fit in here and so I’ve juggled things a little make things easier to follow. My Mother, AKA, Rachel Lamella, had been horny since the separation from my Father, Jeffery Crowder several months before.
Mom had planned on getting laid by one Harvey Matthews, a man she’d met online. But as with many of the best laid plans it went awry. Very much awry, in that she unexpectedly returned home from a disastrous date in which she had been all over Harvey only to learn that he was gay and wanted to use her as his beard for business dinners and the like.
And so, she came home in a cab, half inebriated, still horny, and reeking of humiliation and pissed off at life in general. My guess is that she was horrified by the sight of her son (me) in bed with a girl whose face was covered with his semen.
“Howie, what the fuck is going on?” she screamed as her alcohol clouded brain attempted to digest the scene before her.
Reggie realized my mother had caught us and screamed; covering her breasts while leaving her semen splattered face open for ... well anything.
I was so stunned by my mother’s sudden appearance that I completely forgot to cover my private’s and jumped up from the bed to meet my fate, boner pointing toward the ceiling.
“Cover that...” She was incapable of finishing the sentence and just managed to point at it.
I used my hands at first, and then the very sensible Reggie, prodded me into further action by telling me to ‘put my pants on.’
Which I did; turning away from my mother and retrieving them from under the bed, where I’d dropped them earlier.
“You, young lady; what’s your name?”
“Regina ... Mrs. Crowder!”
“Ugh ... never mind ... clean that---that---goo from your face first! And it’s Ms. Lamella, if you don’t mind!”
Regina didn’t know at first what my mother meant, and then on realizing what my mother was referring too, ran into the bathroom and not bothering to close the door, grabbed a face towel from the towel rack and wiped the semen from her face and breasts, then returned to the bedroom, still nude.
I risked a downward glance---I still had an erection. I covered it with my hands while stammering something inane, like “What are you doing home?”
My mother screamed, “Never mind what I’m doing home. What the hell is going on in my house? Is this ... what you do when I’m gone?”
Mom’s lipstick was smeared, her eye shadow, or whatever that gunk is they put under their eyes, had run from the tears she’d shed in the cab on the way home and her dress was torn when she closed the cab door on it getting out to fast.
At the same time she was thinking: Why isn’t that me with all that stuff covering my face? Even my teenage son is getting more than me!
Had I not been terrified at that particular moment I might have tried a quip like, ‘Gee, no, Mom, it’s a first. It’s not that easy to get laid, you know?
My mother’s rant continued: “And you, young lady ... cover yourself! No, better clean that---that stuff off your face then get dressed!”
Reggie scrambled from the bed and ran into the bathroom following my mother’s explicit instructions without bothering to close the bathroom door. Mom gave me the sternest glower I’d ever received from her and told me to “Have some decency and put some pants on!”
I did, and it gave me a last look at Reggie’s tits as she fumbled with her bra. I had already given up hope of ever seeing them again. I was wrong, but it was a stressful time---please forgive me---she did.
My mother plopped down on my bed then thought better of it as she drew her hand over the sheets, grimaced and stood back up on shaky feet. I motioned to the chair across from the bed. She nodded and went and sat down. I realized she was huffing and waited for her questions rather than trying to worm my way out of the situation by coming up with some cock and bull story.
She took a deep breath and began the inquisition.
“Who is she?”
“How old is she?”
“Is this the first time you two were together like this?
“Is she a classmate?”
“Where do her parent’s think she is tonight?”
The last one drew her in like a shark to blood infested waters.
“She’s at a sleep-over? You---you meant for her to stay the night---in MY HOUSE!”
“Well you haven’t come home at normal times lately and...”
The fact was I hadn’t thought things through. My mother was proficient though, even with all that booze running though her veins. “She told her mother she was at this girl’s house for a sleep-over?’
“Yes!” I replied as Regina came out of the bathroom fully dressed.
My mother turned to her. “Regina, is that right?”
Regina stared at her not knowing how to respond.
“You told your mother you were at a sleep-over, right?”
“Yes, oh, yes, I told her, yes.”
“Okay, what I’m thinking of is a way to keep your little tryst here a secret, understand?”
“Um, yes, Mrs. Crowder.”
“No, my name ... I prefer you call me Ms. Lamella if you don’t mind.”
“Oh, I don’t mind. Ms. Lamella,” Reggie replied.
My mother gave her a discerning stare and decided she didn’t mean the sarcasm my mother thought she’d heard, and moved on. “So your parents have no idea what you two have been up too?”
“No they don’t! Please don’t tell them!”
My mother had the instincts of a world class prosecutor. She went in for the kill and I was helpless and unable to assist Reggie in any way at all.
“You’re supposed to be some place at a sleep over. Where would that be?”
Reggie glanced at me. No help there---she went with the truth.
“I---I was supposed to be at a friend’s house...”
Reggie went with the tears then, but my mother wasn’t buying, she was a woman after all, she knew the value of tears, and at the moment they had zero value in her eyes.
“I know that---the question is with whom? I require a name.”
Reggie looked at my mother, perplexed.
“A name, girl. What’s the girl friend’s name?”
“Oh ... Voyers, Cathy Voyers.”
What happened next stunned me and probably amazed Reggie.
“Howie call a taxi, if they need an address for the destination---I don’t see why they would, but this day and age, who knows? Give them Regina’s address.
“Regina, after he calls the taxi, you call home. Tell your mother your coming home---you had an argument with ... this Voyers girl, and you’re coming home. You don’t want to talk about it. Just have them leave the door open and a light on for when you get there.”
“Mom, it’s only 9:15,” I said.
“Shut your filthy mouth, Howie! I know what the goddamn time is! That schmuck you call your father gave me this watch, and while I am surprised, it does work.”
And that’s how we got Reggie home without further incident.
The following two hours were spent berating me; castigating me and bemoaning the fact that I had betrayed every confidence she’d ever had in me. Finally she threw up her hands as if to be rid of me and went off to bed.
I climbed into my bed, but didn’t get to sleep until around four in the morning.
I dreaded going to the breakfast table the following morning--- but she had pancakes and bacon waiting for me and I slipped into my usual chair, picked up my orange juice and took a sip.
“Good morning, Howie!” My mother chirped behind me as she prepared to pour me a cup of coffee. There was no indication of hostility in her voice.
“Good morning Mom,” I replied, trying to imitate her vocal inflection, but failing.
“You need to put on your blue suit. Have you forgotten it’s your cousin Melanie’s wedding day. We need to be at the synagogue by eleven sharp.
Needless to say I was grateful that no repercussions were coming my way, at least not just yet, and after breakfast, I took pains to make myself presentable in my best (and only) suit after buffing my shoes, and stood at what I thought passed for attention while my mom checked me out.
I passed her inspection.
Now usually my mother dresses very conservatively, she has an abundance of conservative dresses, blouses and slacks. Whenever I have seen her dressed up for social occasions she would wear a nice skirt and blouse, maybe a jacket, never anything sexy.
I waited patiently for her to come downstairs. An hour went by. I risked a call to Reggie, who answered on the first ring.
“Thank God you finally called. Did she whip you after I left?”
“No, although I expected as much; she was cold, very cold and sent me to bed like a little kid. But then ... wait a minute ... how did you make out? I was worried sick that she might have changed her mind and called your parents.”
“It---it went perfectly. I couldn’t believe it. My mother was pissed---not at me but at Cathy”
“Who’s Cathy?”
“The sleepover silly!”
“Oh, yeah ... so go on, what happened?”
“Oh, my mom bought the whole thing. She wanted to call Cathy’s and complain, but I talked her out of it. I spent 30 minutes on the phone with Cathy so we got our stories straight.”
“Look I can’t talk much longer, Reggie. I’m terribly sorry about what happened...”
“Well I’m not! I mean, I am in that your mom caught us, but oh, Howie when you let me have it like that ... did you know I came?”
“You did?” I was thrilled to hear it, in fact, I found it hard to believe, and filed it away to ask Stephanie about it the first chance I had. Stephanie ... I needed to let her know what had happened last night. She would have advice on what to say ... what to do...
I heard my mother coming out of her room and ended the conversation with Reggie, whispering that I’d call her and try to see her later that afternoon.
My mom came down the stairs and paused at the bottom step.
“What do you think, Howie?”
I was stunned at what I saw. My forty two year mother wore a stunning short black skirt that was cut mid thigh and a sleeveless blouse that fit very snuggly and caused her breasts to jut out. Her mid-length dark hair was perfectly styled and up, which allowed her to show off her diamond earrings and the pearl necklace she had around her neck. I rarely ever saw her in makeup, but at that moment her face was painted as if it were a masterpiece.
“Wow Mom you really look great!” I said with a whistle to boot. That earned me a hug and a kiss—on the lips no less.
“Thank you, Howie. You look ... pretty good yourself.”
About the wedding:
As in most families there is usually some friction for one reason or another. In mine it revolved around my sister, Stephanie and my cousin, the bride to be, Stacy Repednik. Stacy’s spouse to be is one Jason Epstein, who in a former life was engaged to my sister. As I understand it, Stacy fucked him out from under Steph. Yeah, I can’t fathom it either, but she managed it and that’s why Stephanie lives in Manhattan and not Yonkers; and why she’s not engaged or even married to Jason.
And why you might ask, are my mother and I attending these nefarious nuptials? I haven’t a clue unless she has some weird plan of revenge in mind.
It was about a forty minute drive to the synagogue where the wedding was being held. The actual service lasted about half an hour. Then we drove for about fifteen minutes to the banquet hall where the reception was being held. We found our table and took a seat, several people who hadn’t seen my parents in some time inquired about my father only to be told he was no longer alive to the rest of the family.
That only served to make us more of a pariah than we already were, in that Stacy’s family had avoided us from the moment we arrived, and continued to do so throughout the reception.
Others, particularly the older men, made a point of starting conversations with my mother, and even danced with her. I saw this short bald man with his hand on her ass while they slow danced and had a vivid flashback to two nights earlier when I jerked off into a pair of her panties and realized that I did find her more than motherly. I had found her erotically intriguing.
She returned to our table somewhat flushed and suggested that I dance with one of the many available young ladies in attendance.
“Or,” she added coolly, “is your heart already given to Roxanne?”
“It’s Reggie, Mom, and she’s just a girl from school.”
“Hmmmph,” she sniffed, “just a girl my ass!”
Another potential beau, meaning non-family related, asked her to dance, and still simmering from her comment about Regina and me, I got up, walked out on the dance floor and cut in. She was more than a bit surprised, but I soon realized she was pleased that I’d taken the initiative and pressed her lower body into mine.
Marisol
- 08.08.2022
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