My take on an old, common theme. Next part in a couple, three weeks. All fiction, everyone screwing over 18. Signed comments get answers. Most anon comments, considered. Enjoy. Jb7
Paul Tomkins,22, picked up his books and headed out of his bedroom to go down and start breakfast. He was a couple of steps past his mother's open door when she called to him. "Paul?"
He turned back and entered her room. She turned to look at him while she inserted the earring post through the lobe of her ear. "I'm going to meet Sally for dinner after work. Will you be okay on your own tonight?"
Paul looked at his mother. Like him, she was tall, slender. She wore her honey colored hair in a shaggy bob that framed a face most men would classify as pretty. Her eyes were a light brown, almost caramel colored, against a natural peaches and cream complexion. At the moment, she was wearing only a pair of white nylon bikini panties, which did little to hide full muff she wore, trimmed, but topped by a thin spire of dark hair which reached almost to her navel. She bore smallish, medium sized breasts, capped by pale brown areolas, nipple buds just barely visible. Her trim waist was set off by her hips and relatively flat butt.
That she was essentially naked was not unusual. It had been just the two of them since he could remember. Rita had given birth to Rick while still a junior in high school. He was the result of a stolen afternoon with her then current boyfriend, during which they finished a quart of Sangria left over from a party his parents had thrown the night before. For both of them, it had been their first time.
Her father, a doctor and a lay minister in their church, would not allow her to terminate the pregnancy. By the time Paul was due, she had made up her mind to keep him.
She had dropped out of high school during her pregnancy and completed her schooling at home, while taking care of him, supported by her parents. She completed the requirements for her GED by the end of summer following the graduation of her friends. She entered the community college and took a reduced load, including night classes, while she worked as a clerk in a grocery store, to earn her RN certification.
When Paul started school, she started taking classes while she worked at the hospital, and, by the time he was in fourth grade, had earned her BSN. Until Paul graduated from high school, she had received some financial help from his grandparents on both sides. Her parents had also helped with babysitting while she went to school, allowing her and Paul to live on their own.
She had taken a job in her father's practice when Paul was twelve, and, by the time Paul was in high school, obtained her Nurse Practitioner status. As such, she was usually the first or second professional new patients saw. Sally, one of the medical assistants in the large practice, was also a single mom, with two teenage daughters, now 18 and 17-years old.
They had started working in the office about the same time. The same age, and in similar family situations, they had become close friends. School demands and the age difference had kept Paul and the girls from being any more than friendly acquaintances.
"Yeah," he answered his mother. "I'll stop and get me a turkey to roast up, or maybe a tenderloin. I'll have to see what catches my fancy."
Rita laughed. "There's a meatloaf all put together in the fridge, if you want, or there's the stew from this weekend. And, of course, there's always bacon and eggs."
"I'll be fine. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine; why do you ask?"
"Except when it's time for your period, you don't usually put underwear on until you start to dress, and your period isn't due for a week or so."
"My son keeps track of my menstrual cycle?"
"It helps contain the fights if I know when not to broach some topics."
Rita laughed. "Some day, some lucky woman is going to have a very smart husband. It's just a mild UTI. When I get to the office, I'll phone in a scrip for Cipro. Would you be able to pick it up for me?" She turned to start getting dressed.
"No problem. You be late?"
"No, it's just dinner. Sally has to be home to talk to the girls. She's been seeing a dentist for almost six months and they think it's time to expose the families to each other more. He has a daughter, 15, I think she said. He's met Patti and Diane, but she hasn't told them about how serious it's become. They want to be able to trade overnights without the kids feeling abandoned." She looked at her son. "How would you feel if I started having men spend the night?"
"Pretty much, it would depend on the man and how I felt about him. If I thought he was right for you, I'd say it was past time. If I didn't think he was right, unless I knew it was just for sex for you, I'd raise all sorts of hell when he wasn't here to let you know I thought he was the wrong guy."
"You wouldn't care if I was out, what do you guys call it, sport fucking?"
"That would imply you were out there every night, Mom, spreading you legs for whoever you could pick up. That would definitely be a problem for me, but, if you were dating a variety of guys and one stayed overnight on a weekend and rarely showed up again, your choice, that wouldn't bother me.
"You're still young, attractive, and, usually, fun to be around. The question should be, why aren't you?"
"Why aren't I what?"
"Dating, enjoying the attention of the opposite sex?"
Rita heaved a huge sigh. "Inertia, lack of practice, lack of opportunity, lack of candidates. Take your pick." She turned back to her dressing table. "Oh, look at the time! You'd better hurry!"
"Oy! See you tonight. Have a good day."
Paul, a teaching assistant for Experimental Psych Lab 115, swore as his phone started vibrating in his pocket. He was setting up a complicated maze for the week's lab assignment, and it needed to be ready for class tomorrow. He pulled the phone from his pocket and checked the incoming phone number, his mom. He'd call her back later.
The phone stopped vibrating as he put it back in his pocket, only to start again almost immediately. He checked the caller ID again. This time it was the University Hospital. He answered the call. "Paul Tomkins. Yes, I'm her son. Is there a problem? No, my father is gone; what is the problem? Is my mother okay? I'm just across campus; I'll be right there."
Rita had been interviewing a new patient, getting their medical history, which had seemed unremarkable until they had a seizure. She had been taking vital signs and had just turned around to record them when the patient, a young woman, suffered a severe tonic-clonic seizure (once known as Grand Mal seizures), falling into Rita, knocking her down, face forward.
Rita was able to break their fall thanks to her parachute reflex, but the weight of both of them on her wrists was too much, and resulted in a severe sprain to both arms. She would be unable to use her hands for at least three weeks.
Paul arrived just as the doctor was finishing the plaster cast, which extended from the middle of her fingers to her elbow. "Plaster?"
"You must be Paul, her son. I talked to you on the phone. Yes, plaster. I don't want any movement in the wrist for the next ten days. I realize that is going to complicate her life, but better for ten days than the rest of her life, don't you agree?"
"You're the doc. Hey, Mom. Looks like you'll be home for dinner after all."
"Looks like it. And for the next several days. I need you to call Sally and let her know I'll be home. When she left, they were thinking about admitting me."
"Which is still a good idea," the doctor interjected. "Are you sure you will have adequate help at home?"
"Paul?" his mother asked, looking at him. "It's going to be you, and it will get messy. Do you think you can handle it?"
"I `handled' it over the summer working at the CP group homes. I had to help both men and women in the bathroom several times. And it's not like I haven't seen a naked woman, Mom, or touched one. The awkward part, which I'm sure will pass once we've been through it, is that it's you. Once we get past that, it should be a piece of cake." The doctor shrugged. "Okay, but if you have any problems, call me. Maybe we can arrange for a home health aide."
"That won't be necessary, doc. If she doesn't mind me, I'll spank her like she used to do me." The words were out before Paul realized the implication. Only when the doctor coughed and his Mom gasped, did he realize how his statement could be interpreted. He blushed and started to say something, but the doctor had left cubicle. "God, Mom! I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."
"I know, sweetie. I think you just made his day. Go get the car. It's in the lot across from the Medical Office Building, in the third or fourth row, near the end by the boulevard. And don't forget Sally."
On his way to get the car, he got in touch with Sally and passed on his mother's message. She asked if it would be okay if she stopped after work. Remembering his mother's meatloaf comment, he invited her for dinner. She asked if he was sure; he told her what was planned. She laughed and accepted.
He called the Experimental Psych teacher and explained the situation, saying he would be unavailable for the rest of this week and all of next. The professor told him not to worry, to take care of his family. Paul explained where he was in constructing the maze, mostly done. A few minutes later he was back at the ER, picking up his mother.
On the ride home, Rita was quiet, contemplating how she would react the first time Paul had to assist her in the bathroom. Over the eighteen years since she had moved out of her parents' house, she had dated a few times, but had not let any man get beyond an over the clothes boob squeeze. While she pleasured herself a couple of times a week, no man had touched her since she learned she was pregnant. And now, her son...
It wasn't unusual for them to see each other nude, nor for them to exchange hugs, or kisses on the cheek; just not at the same time. It had never been a rule, but there had never been any touching while one or the other of them was nude. But now...She wasn't sure which of them would be more embarrassed. Sure Paul had provided personal care to some disabled adults while working for a service agency, but their mother-son relationship was a huge complicating factor.
"Penny for your thoughts." His voice broke into her reverie.
She briefly thought about dissembling with the non-committal "nothing," but she had seldom lied to him, especially about important issues. "I was just wondering how this is going to work. Blotting the vulva of a client, or cleaning her butt after a BM isn't quite the same as providing those services to your mother, regardless of how often we've seen each other nude."
"Are you worried about my reaction, or your own?"
"Both, frankly. I suppose I should be glad that you are an adult, and should be able to handle those tasks without being traumatized that you have to touch `your mother' `down there.'" She laughed. "At the same time, as I am sure you are aware, from our conversation this morning, it has been a long time since anyone other than my OB/GYN has touched me there."
"Don't worry, Mom, I'll be gentle," Paul said, the smile plain in his voice.
"You little shit," Rita replied, laughing. "It's a good thing I have these casts on or I'd hit you over the head."
"Yeah, but then, if you didn't, you wouldn't need to." He pulled into their driveway. "I had a thought. How would you feel about going around the house commando, in a mini skirt, or short semi-full skirt, like that red and brown plaid one? Then when you need to pee, you can pull up your own skirt, probably, and just let the area air dry. The only time you'll need my service is after a BM and when you take a bath."
"Sounds workable, if disgusting. We can try it when this infection quiets down. Right now, we need to hurry, all this talk about toileting...I need to go."
Paul got his mother to the powder room off the kitchen, and lowered the slacks and panties she wore. He closed the door to give her some privacy while she emptied her water. When she called him, he went in and kneeled to remove her shoes, pants and panties. Then he grabbed some paper and reached in to blot the excess urine from around her labia. As he touched her, she flinched. He was immediately aware of the hard rod that was her clitoral shaft under her skin.
Dropping the soiled paper, he lightly stroked the rod, asking his mother, "Would you like some help with this?"
Rita sucked in her breath. This was exactly what she had been afraid would happen. Much as she wanted to say no, his fingers were so inviting, and he was barely touching her, she knew. Against her better judgment, and almost against her will, she lifted her arms to Paul's shoulders and pulled his cheek to hers as she nodded.
Resting his two middle fingers so they bracketed the rod, he began a light massage along the hidden shaft. His stroke reached down to the mouth of her lady where he picked up some of her own moisture to lubricate his fingers. He heard her breathing increase in frequency, then stop as she tensed every muscle in her body. Suddenly the tension released and she sat there shaking, thrusting her hips into his hand. "No...no...more. Stop now," she panted out, whispering, when he showed no sign of slowing or stopping his clit massage.
"Thank you, sweetie, that was, mmm. I haven't come that fast in a long time. I..."
"If you'd like, we could do it again later, in a more comfortable setting."
"Paul! What are you suggesting?" Rita asked, her tone anything but pleased.
Paul rocked back on his heels, surprised. "Mom, you are a young, attractive, no, beautiful woman. Much too young to live like a nun, which is what you've been doing for as long as I can remember. All I'm suggesting is, that since this situation seems to arouse you a little, that you acknowledge that and take advantage of the situation to allow a little enjoyment into your life."
"By letting my son jill me off? And what would you get out of it? Would you be looking for some kind of reciprocal service? What, since I can't use my hands? A blow job? A fuck?"
He had never seen her so upset. She seldom swore, let alone use language like he had just heard. He was surprised she even knew the words.
The hurt was plain on his face and in his voice. "Would you believe me if I told you I hadn't even thought about that, what I would get out of it. I was thinking about you. You always think of me first, and take care of yourself after you've seen to my needs. I guess I would have done the same thing. Seen that you were satisfied, then take care of my needs the best way `I' could," he replied, emphasizing the I.
"This is obviously upsetting you. Forget I said anything. Lets go get you changed. Sally is going to stop and have dinner with us. I'll put the meatloaf on and some potatoes, along with a salad. Okay."
Tears started down Rita's cheeks. Her son had made her feel better than she had since before she could remember and she had yelled at him, partly out of fear, partly shame. If she was honest with herself, she wanted what he was offering, even what she had suggested.
"I'm sorry, Paul. I shouldn't have got upset like that. Or accuse you of wanting to have sex with me. It's just that it has been over 22 years since anybody has done that for me. And to have you offer to do it again...the mother in me wants to run away screaming, but I have to confess, the woman...I am tempted to say yes, let's, but you say Sally is coming."
She looked at the gobsmacked expression on her son's face and smiled. "And you have class in the morning, don't you?" She put her arm up. "Help me up so we can get me changed." As she stood she moved into Paul's arms, one arm around his waist, the other around his neck, and pulled him in for a kiss. "Thank you,'" she whispered in his ear, then caressed it with her tongue.
Sally was a short, plump, cute blonde with shoulder length hair, blue eyes, a full BB bust with hips to match, emphasizing an unbelievably thin waist. She greeted Paul with a hug and kiss on his cheek. Over dinner, which she and Paul took turns feeding Rita, to their delight and her annoyance, she and Rita discussed approaches to telling the girls about the change in her relationship with Harry, the guy she was dating.
Toward the end of the meal, Sally asked, "What do you think, Paul?"
"Have the girls met him and his daughter?"
"Yes, once over the summer, we had a joint family picnic at the beach."
"How did everyone get along?"
"Pretty much okay. Dottie, his daughter, pretty much just sat all day, her arms around her knees, watching everyone. She didn't even change to a swim suit. Harry and Diane got along okay, and I thought Patti was going to be okay, but she seemed to avoid Harry after we ate."
"And since then?"
"When she knows he's coming to pick me up, she goes to her room, and if he is going to spend any amount of time, she..." Sally stopped, thinking. "I think I need to talk to my daughters, and I have a hunch some one should talk to Dottie. Thank you , Paul. If I'm right, you have saved me from a horrible mistake."
After Sally left, Paul started cleaning up, making certain his mother was settled in the living room, her choice of movie playing.
Sally headed straight home. As soon as she was in the door, she called her daughters into the kitchen. "Girls, I need to have a very important discussion with you. I want the truth, no matter how much you think it might hurt me. Do you understand?" Both girls nodded, their faces solemn.
"Patti, why don't you like Harry. Every time he comes around, you have to leave. I need to know why."
Patti dropped her eyes, then raised them to see the very concerned look on her mother's face. "At the picnic, when we were cleaning up, and you took some dishes away to wash, he tried to," she hesitated, "touch me, feel me up."
"You're sure, he wasn't just being playful, or friendly."
"Mom! I know when a guy is kidding, and when he isn't going to take no for an answer. Harry wasn't going to stop until he had his hands inside my bra, and he was almost there when you came back. Not to mention he had me trapped against the table so I couldn't move and was trying to stick his fat tongue in my mouth."
Sally looked at Diane, silent tears coursing down her cheeks. "What is it, baby?"
"He did it to me, too, last week. Patti was gone. I was doing my homework in the dining room, and you were upstairs, getting ready. He came in and started rubbing my shoulders, telling me what a good girl I was, studying so hard. Pretty soon his hands were inside the collar of my blouse, and then under my bra strap and headed down, When you came downstairs. He jerked his hands out so fast, he pulled my bra up."
"Thank you, Paul," Sally whispered. Aloud, she asked Diane, "Do you ever see his daughter in school?"
"Sometimes, at lunch, or in the library. Why?"
Sally took a big, deep breath, said a small, silent prayer, and answered. "At the time, I just thought Dottie was shy, maybe a little upset still over her parents' breakup. A conversation this afternoon, pointing out, or rather suggesting the reason for Patti's avoiding Harry, made me think of another reason for the way she was acting. Diane, I want you to find a way to talk to her someplace private, and ask her if Harry is touching her inappropriately.
"The chances are she will deny it, but you will be able to tell by her reaction to the question. If he isn't, she will probably look at you like you are crazy, and/or get mad. If he is, even if she denies it, she will act guilty, as if it is her fault. If you get a sense he is touching her, ask her if she wants to go talk to the nurse, and stay with her."