Chapter 1: Lucky Duck
The roller suitcase handle clicked into place as I stood it upright next to my chosen seat in the international terminal first class lounge in Los Angeles. The Tom Bradley terminal had become for me a cliched home away from home in the last year.
Chinese money is deeply alluring to corporate decision makers, and project after project had come my way. But hey, no complaints from me. Business class flights, new sights, great food, and frequent flyer miles in bulk.
Patting the left front pocket of my jeans in a routine passport check motion, I made a line towards the bar where a twenty-something woman of probable Hispanic descent stood greeting other patrons. She glanced across at me and smiled. I made pains to lean in a little bit and give the impression I was scanning the offerings, but already knew my poison of choice. She knew, too. “Lucky Duck?”
“Absolutely,” I replied. “I need to stop spending so much time in here. I’m going to ruin my reputation.”
The corners of her lips turned up and her brown eyes reflected the overhead light in a quiet smile. “Your secret’s safe with me. It’s always happy hour when you fly international,” she said, as she turned away to grab a clean glass. I took a quick glance at her round bottom as she did, not overtly enough or for too long to be in bad taste.
“Thanks, Diana. It’s always nice to see you on the way out.” Again, she turned to me with those smiling eyes. Her black hair, tied in a simple pony tail and reaching to about her shoulder blades, whipped around a bit as she focused on the glass that was nearly filled.
Diana. The type of girl some might call beautiful, but not one who stands out in a crowd-or at least that’s my perspective. About 5’4″ with cared for olive skin, an athletic body, and small but firm looking breasts. While she might carry just the slightest bit of extra weight on her medium frame, I find her to be one of those naturally pretty people that you instantly feel pulled towards.
That and she has this caring vibe. Almost motherly.
This thought crossed my mind as she set the glass down in front of me. “Enjoy.”
“I will.” I took a sip of the beer, adding as I turned towards my seat in the lounge, “And I’ll be back. Guaranteed.”
“I’ll be here.”
I mused to myself that, as an early thirty-something man with a decent career, Diana seemed like the type of person I would want to marry-if I ever decided that was something to do. But for now, musing was enough. I set the glass on the small white table, and plopped into the (also white) armchair I had chosen to be my spot for the next four hours. On my right, jet bridges. On my left, the open lounge. Unconsciously, I glanced towards the bar.
In that moment, life splashed ice water on me. Maybe it was the cold beer on an empty stomach at nine in the morning, but the idea I had previously blown past numerous times hit home just then. I had seen it, but not really ‘seen’ it. She was a near carbon-copy of my mother at roughly the same age.
I chuckled a little to myself. Some things never change. Normally girls like Diana were not my type. But with her, as with my mother-or perhaps because of her-I felt a deep and real attraction. Things I had not brought front of mind for years forced their way into my thoughts. A contradictory combination of warmth, lust, safety, uncertainty and memories of real love.
Staring blankly into the rising bubbles of the chilled glass in front of me, I began to pull on the string of memories. When had my attraction begun? My mother did not initiate it, and I did not intend it. I remember that, growing up, she would lay with my little brother, who was eight years my junior, until he fell asleep. Somewhere in the increasingly tumultuous hormonal waters of early adolescence, my view of her shifted.
Throughout my teen years, I struggled to really understand myself. My feelings for my mom, my wavering certainty about her feelings for me, and my fear of bringing the subject up with her. The riskiness and knowing that people consider it wrong conflicted intensely with my need for and the safety I felt with my mom. I never acted on any of this, because it seemed better that way-something was wrong with me, I thought. And then, in my senior year of high school, things changed.
After years of trying to sort out my feelings, I eventually accepted that I honestly and deeply desired her. As I came of age, I found stories depicting incestuous love, and my yearning to be with her was fanned to even greater heights.
Chapter 2: A Move and an Unexpected Visit
Before continuing, I want to note: Yes, my parents are still together. No, my father does not know about anything that happened between my mom and me. And while I do feel a certain degree of guilt about the entire thing, I would not change anything that happened. Never in my entire life have I experienced anything even close to those days, and in some ways I expect not to.
Major Escort life shifts occurred rather abruptly as I entered my senior year of high school. I had just turned 18, and everything was turned a little upside down. (Note: Blame my slightly older than usual age for a high school senior on a delayed start to kindergarten resulting from a mistimed September birthday. Anyway, back to more important things…)
Due to a late career change for my father, my family relocated to a new state that was far from family and friends. We found ourselves in a small, two-story house on a cul-de-sac in the Midwest that was penned in by single-story houses to the east and north and a fellow two-story duplex to the west. I like to think that this was a shock to my system more than anyone else’s, but that might be unfair. I know it cannot have been easy for my mom, either. Because of this change, my dad spent much less time at home, leaving my mom, brother and me to our own devices.
Being a young kid of about 10, my brother took best to the move and was out of the house most of the time with his new friends in the neighborhood. So, while my mom was busy settling us into the new house, I was a minimally (un)helpful homebody. It was early in the summer before my senior year-too late to make new friends, too early for sports practices, and all too lame to matter anyway. To hell with it, I figured.
I played videogames, did a few chores here and there, and masturbated. A lot of the first and third… much less of the second, admittedly. Fueling my proclivity for self-pleasuring was a small voyeuristic gold mine next door. My room was upstairs, facing east towards a single-story house with windows in full view. The woman who called it home still occasionally finds her way into my thoughts.
Amanda was tall, blonde, sexy, and in the prime of her mid-twenties. Venturing a guess, based on the variety of guys she had over in the three weeks since we moved in, she was taking full advantage of it. This all might make me sound like a bit of a creep, but in defense of myself, the first time I saw her naked through the window was a total accident. Afterwards, not so much.
Slight diversion. I am not an ugly guy. I’m also not a super handsome guy. Because of my dad’s side being fairly tall, I managed to top out at 6’0″. I inherited my mom’s complexion and dark hair, but netted hazel eyes as a genetic compromise. I have always kept myself fit and groomed, and by 18 had experienced second base. But due to my somewhat religious upbringing-and a deep, lingering want for my own mother-I went no further. Diversion over.
As I walked into my room that evening and closed the door behind me, my goals were two in number: First, to put away laundry as instructed; and, second, to scratch an itch. I ended up forgetting the first one, because as I glanced out the window next to my dresser, I saw Amanda removing her shirt. I’m fairly certain only I could see her, as the elevated angle from this heaven-sent window made the tilt of her blinds perfect… for me. Also, this was the only east-facing window in the upstairs of our new house. I was, like my airport lounge beverage of choice, a lucky duck. The low light of early dusk, her room lit by soft yellow light, and her body only a few feet away-serendipitous.
She removed her bra, and I felt my dick begin to stiffen. I couldn’t help it. I slowly began masturbating while obscuring myself behind the curtain. As her strip show continued, my intensity increased. Soon, she was walking around the room naked. My breathing grew more ragged any my caution less existent, until suddenly I saw her look up at me stroking myself. My flight or fight response kicked in, and I dodged behind the window frame. In retrospect, I must have looked pretty pitiful to her, especially when I shyly peeked out from behind the curtain.
Amanda was not shy at all, and waved at me from her room, still naked. I kept myself slightly obscured, but resumed my earlier endeavor. I’m not sure how much she could see, but she held her gaze on me, so I became bolder. I wanted her to see me, and needed to see if she liked watching. I figured she must, because she never took her eyes off of me. Before long, I was cumming harder than I had in days.
Her blue eyes and a cute smile and wave were the last thing I saw before she fully shut the blinds and drew the curtains.
A few days later, after multiple failed attempts at repeating this wonderful experience, my mom and I were greeted by a knock on the door. It was Amanda.
Oh shit! My internal alarm bells were blaring. This could not be a good thing.
“Hi, Leah!” Amanda almost sung her greeting as my mom opened the door. I looked up from my spot on the living room sofa, which had a full view of the front door, and smiled sheepishly. Amanda quickly looked at me and smiled, and then turned back to my mom, saying, “I know it’s a little rude to ask this since we’ve only known each other for a couple Escort Bayan of weeks, but would it be possible to borrow your lawn mower. Mine broke again.”
My mom, who was about three or four inches shorter than Amanda, said glowingly, “Of course! It’s the least we could do. Ryan, can you help Amanda get the mower out of the garage while I finish up in the kitchen?”
Still a little weak kneed and uncertain, I nodded and motioned for Amanda to follow me through the house and into the garage. She did after thanking my mom, and I held the door open until she stepped through. To clear my head a little, I focused on the task at hand, “The mower is just in the front corner over there. It should have a full tank of gas.”
“Okay, thanks.” She paused for a moment, leaving room for an awkward and tangible silence. As though willing herself, she quietly said, “What happened a few nights ago… was a surprise.”
My cheeks flushed, and no words seemed to fit the moment.
“It’s totally fine. It made me feel really sexy.” She paused again, took a breath, and looked into my eyes. “Look, I’m not saying I want to do anything with you physically, but if you look out your window tonight around 10…”
I just nodded. It’s all I could do, and I’m still embarrassed thinking about it today, 13 years later. “I will.” I smiled weakly, and hit the button for the garage door opener. Almost as awkwardly, she smiled, nodded, and walked over to the lawnmower. My mind totally destroyed, I watched her roll it out and then shut the garage door.
That night, like clockwork, Amanda appeared at her window in a loose fitting white t-shirt. As she adjusted the tilt of the blinds, I saw her look up at me and smile. Slowly, sexily, she danced a few feet into the room away from the window. And then she lifted the shirt, revealing her bare and well-trimmed pussy and then her firm breasts that were almost too large for her slender frame. It was then that I noticed a blanket had been laid out on the floor of her bedroom. She laid down on it, and spread her legs to reveal herself to me. Needless to say, I was already stroking my cock. A little more cautious than before, I concealed myself in a way where I was only-as far as I knew-visible to her. Not that I cared too much.
We continued for several minutes, and I was about to unload. Then the doorbell rang. I heard my mom leave her room and rush down the stairs.
I was too close to not finish. I forced myself to come quickly, feeling the hot cum fill my hand and shoot onto the floor. I then pointed behind me, motioning to the door and waved goodbye, mouthing the words, “I’m sorry.” I didn’t take time to see if Amanda acknowledged, my primary focus being closing the blinds and finding a tissue box. I had just finished my rapid cleanup duty and redressing when I heard a knock on my door.
“Can I come in?” My mom’s voice penetrated the thin door almost as though she were in the room with me. Note to self: Next time you jack off, turn on a fan to mask the sound… or maybe don’t.
“Yeah,” I grumbled just a bit, annoyed by the interruption in the evening’s events.
My mom poked her head in, and then entered. “It… smells in here. You should open a window.” Pushing past me roughly, she moved quickly to the window where I had just been masturbating. My legs were backed up against my bed, and I couldn’t move out of the way quickly enough in the small room. As she forced her way by me, she turned away slightly and my crotch pressed against her butt.
Lust filled minds play tricks, but I swear she paused for the slightest of moments when this happened. This was not lost on me, but my fear of what she might see through the window coupled with post-nut clarity kept me on track. Honestly, though, there was nothing I could do to stop her or even slow her down. She flung the curtains aside, pulled the string to raise the blinds, and opened the crank-driven window. “What the hell,” she hissed. Her apparent anger caused my balls to rise into my throat. “You didn’t put the laundry away! Just giving her ammunition.”
I snuck a not so subtle glance past her, and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Amanda’s windows were dark. “Uh, sorry. Wait-what?”
“Your grandmother. My mother-in-law! She’s here. Why is she here? Jesus fucking Christ. I’m going to kill your father.” Her Latina temper has always been very subtle, my mother. Like an air raid siren on a still, Midwestern summer night when not even God himself can make the wind blow. Barely noticeable.
In the suddenness, I had missed that my mom was wearing only a thin blue nightie for sleeping. It accentuated her curves, and displayed a not insubstantial portion of her breasts. I could also see her nipples poking through slightly, and even though I had just orgasmed I felt a tingle in my loins. She was still a young woman of only 35 years of age, and it was difficult not to notice. I’m fairly certain it was difficult not to notice my staring, too. Bayan Escort
Some part of me with more good sense than I typically possess screamed at me, saving me from drowning. Man overboard! I pulled myself back to my senses. “Grandma is here. Right now? Do you know why?”
“Hell no! I have no idea. But you’ll have to sleep downstairs on the sofa so that she can have your room. Help me change the sheets. And put these clothes away!”
I complied without saying much at all. The rest of the night was a blur. After helping my mom make my bed and stow clothes, I carried my used bedding downstairs to make up the sofa bed. I was surprised to see my dad sitting in the old gray recliner in the living room, watching television. He looked at me for a second, glanced at his mother, rolled his blue eyes, and then returned his attention to the screen.
I greeted my grandmother, whose droopy jowls and bad breath were not a very welcome surprise present. She garbled, in her fake almost-crying (read: pleading for sympathy) voice, “I missed you all so much, so I had your uncle book me a ticket. And then I had your dad leave the office for an hour or so to come pick me up. Hi, Rinny.” She lingered on that annoying nickname that I had outgrown by age three-no, strike that… at birth.
My dad stood up, “Speaking of that, I need to get back. I’ll see you all around 10 tomorrow morning.” He hugged my grandmother, kissed my mom on the cheek, and was just about to step through the front door when we heard a voice from the top of the stairs.
“Dad? What are you doing home?” My brother asked as he shambled sleepily down the stairs.
“I came to drop off your grandma, and now I have to go to work. You better get your little ass back in bed.”
My grandma chimed in, “I’ll tuck the little guy in and then turn in myself. I’m getting too old for traveling. Goodnight.”
“Grandma’s here, too?”
“I sure am, sweetie.”
“Alright, both of you get to bed. Goodnight. One of you lock this,” my dad said, and then closed the door behind him.
With that, my brother and grandmother went upstairs as I tossed the sofa cushions aside and began sloppily making the bed. My mother, always one for not “half-assing” things, chided me and took over. As she bent down to pull the corners of the fitted sheet around the too-small sofa bed mattress, I got a surprise downblouse view. Because she had nothing on under the blue nightie-other than I assume panties-her breasts were in full view. Even after giving birth to two children, they were nearly perfect. While only a small handful, they were firm and round with eraser-sized nipples and dark areolas. Despite being bent over, there was no noticeable sagginess or wrinkling. Cheers to Latin genes and her decision not to breastfeed.
I’m still not sure if she intended to put herself on display for me or not, but this moment absolutely solidified my need for her as a lover. Her ‘show’ continued for perhaps only three minutes as she helped me make the bed, but that was more than enough time for me get semi-hard. My mind was in a fog as she drew close to me, kissed me on the cheek, and whispered goodnight. Again not intentionally, my member brushed against her as she walked past me and started up the stairs. The narrow walkways in this house were doing me huge favors today.
Upon waking the next morning, my mind was immediately filled with thoughts of my mom’s breasts and the amazing voyeur session I had with Amanda. The sun was just rising above the horizon, and soft, red light was beginning to fill the house. No one would be up yet. My teenage sex drive began to stir, and I looked around to make sure I was alone before I began to stroke my cock. The back of the sofa helped obscure things as well, since the stairway was only a few feet behind it. Keeping the covers on in case someone came rushing down the stairs, I let myself sink more and more into my fantasies. My eyes were closed and visions of my mother and Amanda were filling my mind when suddenly I heard a sound come from the kitchen, which was connected to the living room through a wide doorway.
I looked up to see my mother standing there in the same blue nightie she was wearing the night before. Her eyes were locked on me, and her tanned face was flushed. For a split second, panic almost seized me. But my lust overwhelmed me, and I kept stroking my dick. The rush of doing what was now taboo heightened the pleasure, and I could barely feel my limbs as I continued. I felt like I was floating.
I looked at my mom, and saw she was just standing there still and silent, watching. Emboldened, I threw the sheet aside and masturbated naked in front of her, unsure if I had gone too far. She began moving towards me, her eyes locked on my manhood, until she stood next to the bed on my left-hand side.
Saying nothing, she continued staring, wearing no clothing other than her nightie. Her fit frame radiated a sensual warmth, and as her chest rose and fell with each quickened breath her nipples became more visible through the thin fabric. I nearly reached out with my left hand and pulled her to me, but was too shocked and also too inhibited to do anything other than continue pleasuring myself.