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Mother in the Dark

123

[1]

So here we are again, Friday, October 28th, 'Allerheiligen' is right around the corner, or All Saints Day as it's known throughout the English speaking part of the world.

Back in the day, when I was younger, I always enjoyed this 1st of November, when the family would come together and celebrate the life of the loved ones we lost. Maybe I didn't quite grasp the concept of all of this or I just reveled in the solemnity that was ever so present in this time of year, I don't know, but fact is: if I would have gotten presents also, Christmas would have been a thing of the past.

Of course I have always liked Christmas, I still do, even though I have recognized it for what it is, the despicable face of a money making machinery.

All Saints Day has its very own dynamic so to speak, a dynamic that is closer to my heart than the insanity that evolves in December building up to Christmas Eve.

So yes, you could say that I'm a solemn kind of guy, someone who prefers the quiet of his own thoughts to obsolete conversations with people more or less important to me.

Contrary to what you might think now, I do have friends, and I do like to go out and have a drink and talk about sports and things, but most of the time I like being alone more.

If I feel the need arising to go out and meet friends, I always prefer an evening at a tavern, or 'Wirtshaus' as it's called where I live, to a night out partying in some club or disco or anything similar to those concepts of way to much people in a way to crowded space accompanied by way too loud and shitty music absolutely no one would listen to on their own.

Some might call me a misanthropist, because I really don't like people, at least not meeting new people as I'm content with the ones already in my life. Others my say I'm just a weirdo who occasionally has his moments of actual human normality.

In the end I'm probably a bit of both, even though I would never call myself a misanthropist, since I actually like my friends, all of them, and my family. On the other hand, when confronted with meeting new people, I'm always super tight and close myself off to this new circumstances, but when I do like you, I really do and I'm probably a better friend to you than many of your other so called friends.

So, October 28th, it's right about five o'clock in the afternoon and I'm on my way home from school.

My name is Karl by the way, I'm 19 years old and I'm living in Vienna, the capital of Austria. I'm currently in the last term of a school called HTL in German, which spells out 'Höhere Technische Lerhanstalt', which is a polytechnic school you actually attend a minimum of five years.

Upon graduation I can either start working or attend university, but I haven't decided yet on which path to embark.

My parents on the other hand know and try to push me towards work life, because I think they're scared of me not moving out if I were to be a constantly broke student. I'm already trying to convince them I would be leaving home either way, but they're not quite convinced yet.

I am though.

Don't get me wrong, my parents and I have a really great relationship and as you might have gathered already, I'm not one of the rebellious type, so we get along pretty well as I try to keep to myself even at home.

At first they seemed to worry about me being such a loner, but in the end, above all because my grades have always been good, they let that go and they have accepted me for who I am.

I'm a lonely child by the way, but I'm not quite sure how this fact is influencing my life in particular. Maybe it isn't at all.

My way to and from school usually lasts about 25 to 30 minutes and this time it's no different.

We're living in a single-family house that is located in 'Hietzing', the 13th district of the city, which in certain areas is a rather snobbish district to live in, but in good consciousness my family is not a part of this snobbery.

Our house, like all the others in this neighborhood, is surrounded by a garden on all four sides, which is fenced in by hedges of beech.

As I turn around the last corner on my way home I can already see the skeleton hanging from the black iron gate that connects the street with our driveway.

I have forgotten all about Halloween actually, because I cannot be bothered with it, but my mother has embraced this kind of celebration with open arms. Well, not from the beginning she hasn't, but when her mother died three years ago, not really unexpectedly but still, she took it really hard and all of a sudden All Saints Day has come down on us with all its gloom and doom.

With one of my grandmothers gone, and the other one not getting along with my mother, the family is thinning out and each holiday less and less people are coming together.

So my mother has decided to skip All Saints Day entirely and to focus on this festivity called Halloween.

As I've told you moments before, I cannot be bothered.

My father I believe hasn't still decided yet on what to think about it, but eventually my mother will have him come around.

As I close the iron gate behind me I can already see my mother through the kitchen window as she's preparing dinner. She's got a broad smile on her face as she swiftly moves across the kitchen. I don't think she's taking pleasure in preparing a meal for her husband and son, but in cooking itself.

My maternal grandmother was an insanely gifted cook and I think my mother inherited this right away.

Let me put it this way: so far, not once in my life, have I ever had something to eat in this house that I didn't like.

As I'm nearing the front door my father steps out of it and upon greeting me disappears around the corner to the side where his shed is located.

My father's name is Herbert, he's 54 years old, an overweight lawyer for Austria's federal railway, ÖBB, who likes to spend his spare time, as you might have guessed just now, in the shed behind the house.

He told me once, that his parents kind of urged him to attend university and get a law degree, but his real passion is cars and working on them as he always dreamed of becoming a mechanic when he was young.

The shed behind the house isn't really a shed any longer, but a car port of sorts that has grown exponentially over the years. Right now it hosts two cars that have been built long before I was born. One is a 1965 VW beetle and the other a 1975 BMW 316, actually the first year BMW produced its then new 3-series.

I'm not much of a car geek, big surprise there, but my father talks so much about those two cars right now, that one cannot really get away from all this information pouring out of him. I believe mom is really liking this as well, as in not one bit.

I'm entering the house and more of that Halloween decoration comes into view. It seems a myriad of skeletons and Jack O'Lanterns is plastered across every wall and door inside of the house.

Obviously mom is really taking this Halloween thing to a whole new level.

In the morning, when I got out of the house, all this wasn't there yet, but at one point my mother obviously couldn't brace herself any longer and had to go crazy with it.

I appreciate her effort though not doing this weeks before the actual Halloween night, so I guess a couple days in advance is fine with me.

When the glorious smell of food begins to tickle my olfactory sensors, I suddenly notice how hungry I am.

After taking off my shoes and jacket and putting my backpack on the swivel chair in my room, I come back and walk to the kitchen, where my mother greets me with a peck on the cheek, something I could very well live without.

This whole Halloween thing has mom in such good spirits that she's actually cooking Schnitzel, something she very rarely does during the week as this kind of meal is usually reserved for Sundays. And I'm talking about real Schnitzel, which means she's using veal instead of pork or chicken. As always she's boiling rice as a side dish and prepares a potato salad to be served along with it.

Suddenly the part time misanthrope in me tells me to tread cautiously as something could be up and a hidden agenda may be hiding in all of this.

And sure enough it does.

"Okay mom, what's going on?"

'What do you mean honey?" she replies with the most innocent smile she can muster.

"Mom!"

"Alright, alright. There's something I need to tell you."

I can feel my body really tensing up right now.

"It's about Monday evening Halloween, you know."

No, nothing good will come of this.

"Your father and I..."

Yeah, right!

"...invited some friends over and we're hosting a Halloween party tomorrow."

Ah for fuck's sake!

"If you're choosing to stay home I promise you to leave you alone, but not that it won't be loud. But you've got headphones, right?"

Again she's looking at me with that most innocent of smiles.

As I have told you before, I actually like my family and friends, and I'm not some depressed diva, who thinks all life on Earth revolves around his ego, so I guess I can find a way let some of my mother's good Halloween spirits trickle down on me and not be a dick about this upcoming party.

I wonder how my father has taken this news.

"No worries mom" I say then, "maybe I'll be going out anyway."

My mother's reaction is an inquisitive and incredulous look on her face, and that of course is the correct way of reacting to this statement.

Well, no one knows me better than mom, which of course isn't all too surprising, since she once gave birth to me, a concept of life that creates a special bond between a mother and her child or children.

With a quick kiss on my cheek she resumes her cooking duties, now portraying an even lighter, happier mood than just moments before.

Okay, I will admit so much: there is a chance that feelings of happiness come over me when I see my mom happy. There you go people who still think I'm a misanthropist.

My mother by the way is also an academic who has earned an economics degree. She actually worked in a bank for many years, and not at the counter but really high up. Unfortunately she was let go when the banking crisis really hit home. At first she didn't take it all too hard as she thought she will find a new job rather quickly, but when that didn't happen, she started to panic.

My mom however isn't one to drown in self-pity and so she started her own business.

As far as I know she wasn't pushed towards an academic career, but in the days that led up to the start of her new business, she told me that she always had a knack for tailoring, and so she opened up a tailor shop together with two of her friends.

My dad actually earns enough to support us plus provide a comfortable life style, but of course it wasn't about the money, it was about my mother being reduced to a stay at home wife and mom, and she wasn't having it.

From what I have gathered it took a little while, as in one and a half year, to get the shop off the ground in terms of making a profit, but now it seems to be going really well as she has just signed a contract with Vienna's famed opera house to be their go to tailor or something like that.

Maybe I'm imagining things, but there's a certain and general happiness about her, one that comes from a full life and a job one actually likes to go to.

I'm not really good with those kinds of things, but I think she looks a little younger than her actual 49 years of age. Her short, raven black hair shows no sign of turning grey anytime soon as she also keeps herself in shape by going for a run at least every third day or so. She has always been an avid reader who would at times finish a Dan Brown novel in one day, which is absolutely nuts to my account. But this way she doesn't only keep fit physically, but also by stimulating her brain.

Those are things that aren't completely lost on me as I also like to engage myself in a sport that doesn't require a partner or a team to play with. I have to keep true to myself you know, but in all honesty, my discovery of rowing as an athletic pastime is a sheer product of coincidence. I won't be boring with you any details here, only that I also got the rowing equivalent of a home trainer in my room that I'm using pretty much every day of the week.

You might have already guessed that I'm not giving one thought on how I actually look, but all that rowing has made an impact on my body, as my built has developed into a more or less athletic shape. I have never been overweight, rather the opposite, but now every single muscle in my body seems to have been affected by working out.

At first I noticed getting compliments here and there, but soon I began to fade all that out as I cannot be bothered with such kind of interaction.

And now it's time to dig into the Schnitzel.

[2]

It's eight o'clock in the evening and I'm sitting at my computer doing stuff for school as I'm receiving an email.

It's the first answer out of possible three and a yes on my idea of watching good old horror movies Monday evening. I shortly described the party situation at home that will present itself once the dark settles in, followed by my suggestion of enjoying some cinematic splatter mastery.

It probably won't surprise you that I'm into this genre, but I can tell you that I'm watching those movies not on a regular basis. And by the way, since a couple years now I've been more into TV shows which reduces my movie watching experiences to a sheer minimum.

But given that it's Halloween I think my horror movie idea is a pretty decent one, since I won't be having any of the usual celebrations that have swapped over to these parts of the world.

Email replies number two and number three have just arrived and it's two more answers in the affirmative. So it's settled, we'll be watching horror movies tomorrow evening, maybe even the Halloween series, but we'll see about that.

One of those three guys has actually the house to himself as his parents, in a most opportune case of merciful fate, will be joining my parents at their party.

It's funny how life works sometimes, isn't it.

After closing the email site I am about to get back to work on some school project, but immediately fail to see the point in doing so right now.

I turn off the computer, peel out of my clothes and put on my workout gear, which are short trackies and a sleeveless shirt. While taking place on the rowing machine I turn on the TV and switch to a rerun episode of a crime series entitled 'Tatort', which is the German word for crime or murder scene.

As we're introduced to the victim I start to row, row, row a boat.

[3]

An hour has passed and apart from being exhausted due to my rowing workout, I cannot be assed any longer to guess who the murder is, so I step off the machine and switch the channel to a movie I seem to recognize but just cannot name right here and now.

Feeling the drought in my mouth I start searching for a bottle of water I usually keep in my room, but to no avail as I seem to have forgotten to get one before my workout.

So I step out of my room, the built up sweat already subsiding and I make my way to the kitchen in order to grab something to quench my thirst.

As I'm passing by the living room I get a glimpse of my father who's lying on the couch watching the 'Tatort' episode I just turned off.

Reaching the fridge I open it and take out a bottle of Organic coke, which is produced in Austria actually. That whole organic craze is a whole different matter, but then again my mother has this kind of power over her husband and her son. But to be fair, there's nothing wrong with eating and drinking healthier, and I will have to admit that I really love this cola drink, as it's not quite as sweet as your usual Coke or Pepsi, and it has a really organic flavor to it, or so I believe.

Before even closing the refrigerator door I open the bottle and gulp down almost half of its content.

"How often do I have to tell you: close the fridge!" I hear my mother shouting as she makes her way to the living room, obviously coming from upstairs.

Without any reply I do as I'm told and with bottle in hand I'm about to return to my room. Upon taking another look in the living room, I lay eyes on my mother who is wearing a long, very tight black dress. She spins around, then goes from left to right and from right to left, parading in front of my father, fishing for some sort of reaction obviously.

"And...Herbert? What do you think?"

All my father can come up with is some incoherent mumbling, so my mother keeps asking and nagging him, but to no avail.

Of course she turns to me then, doing the same kind of parade and subsequently asking me the same kind of questions.

Since I really am my father's son, my only reaction is "What?"

She keeps looking at me for a short while longer, then pants with a little rage at least and storms off.

I am a little perplexed so I ask my dad what that was all about.

"It's this year's costume, she wanted to know if it's too risqué."

Honestly, given his non-reaction before I'm surprised he knows all this.

"And?" I'm asking him.

"What?"

Okay, this isn't going anywhere, and obviously neither of us really cares, so I turn around and go back to my room.

[4]

It's ten o'clock, I've just taken a bath and now I'm ready for some porn.

I honestly can't tell if this fact about me might surprise you or not, but in the end I don't care.

The matter of the fact is, I'm somewhat an addict, in my eyes this is the good kind of addiction though, nothing to worry about. Well, I sure as hell won't be worrying about this any time soon.

When I was 12 or 13, I rummaged through one of my parents' cupboards once in search of possible birthday gifts. What I came across instead was two porn magazines, one Hustler and a Penthouse I think. There was all kind of stuff to be amazed by on these sites, but what really caught my eyes on first contact were the lesbian bits of said magazines.

As I grew older I added a little boy/girl action to my repertoire, but most of the time I'm enjoying good old girl on girl action as my porn of choice.

As for the magazines, my mother actually caught me back then, but since I wasn't touching myself or anything she was really cool about it. Given the day and age I was growing up in, I soon found the concept of printed porn rather dull and turned my focus entirely to the World Wide Web.

As of now I'm entertaining three porn site accounts, Girlsway, RealitKings and Twistys, and I'm also downloading movie scenes from both the Sweetheart Video and Addicted2Girls sites.

See, I'm all weird and misanthropic, but still I jerk off to porn like everybody else does.

Since I'm already a little tired I'm not bothering with connecting my laptop to the TV screen, so the computer screen will have to do.

I'm sifting through my New Scenes folder, containing videos I haven't watched yet, as one particular file has caught my eyes: a Brandi Love scene, my favorite MILF as of now, where she's being massaged by Kenna James. She sure is a pretty girl, but her kissing bores the shit out of me, since she always seems to forget having a tongue she could use while kissing another girl. But if one co-star can finally convince her to really embrace the French kiss, that is Brandi Love.

As I double click the video file a picture flashes right before my eye.

I wasn't able to catch it so I'm not giving it another thought and lean back in my swivel chair.

Ah yes, Brandi Love appears.

But so does that picture again, but I still cannot get a glimpse of it.

My left hand wanders to my nether regions, Brandi Love starts to undress and I'm already feeling the excitement.

As I grab my cock I can feel it swell and harden in my hand.

And bam... that picture again, but this time I can grab a hold of it in midair, leaving it suspended right before my inner eye.

123
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