Brian's Mom

Ms. Anita Cavenford - that’s “MIZZ”! - watched me turn the deadbolt. I met her hard stare as I pocketed the key. Gave her a saucy wink, knowing how much she hated it.

“Safety first,” I told Mom.

“Safety,” Mom scoffed, one hand on her hip. She shook her head. “I want the old lock put back on. I’ve never found my key.”

I shrugged. “I left it on the table for you.” It was a lie. I purposely withheld every route for escape in preparation for today. “I’ll get a spare made today, Mom. Really, it’s about safety.”

Mom turned to open the liquor cabinet. My heart pounded as I watched her pour scotch and soda on the rocks. She took a sip and made a face.

“I know you’re up to something,” she said. “You don’t care about my safety.”

She was right. The safety that concerned me was over being able to work my plan to perfection without interruption. I didn’t want Mom figuring out how to make a break for it. Our private time needed to be uninterrupted.

Mom gulped at the drink. Was her hand shaking? A bit. There’s no way she had a clue what was about to happen. What age did that old-person shaking thing start? I shrugged. No matter. I didn’t want a handjob.

“You must have picked up the wrong brand of soda.” Mom said, taking her drink to sit in her favorite recliner. “It tastes off.”

I made a show of taking it from her. Faked sipping it. Handed her the drink back.

“Tastes the same to me. Maybe your sourpuss is the problem.”

Dark eyes glittered like diamond edged daggers. “You think you’re funny,” she spat venomously. “You aren’t. You’re just a vile little boy trying to get attention from his mother.”

I almost hit her. But I forced a smile and blew her a little kiss. Flopped onto the couch and pointed the remote at the television.

“If I had a half-decent mother, maybe I wouldn’t have to work so hard for attention,” I snapped back. “Seriously, put the bitch on the back burner for one night. Your disapproval gets boring after a while.”

Ice clinked as Mom drained her drink. She took a long breath and sighed. Sat her drink on the side-table.

“Your rude tongue gets boring,” she replied. “You’re twenty-three, Brian. If you don’t like my rules, you can move out. Most men with any sort of ambition don’t live with their mothers at your age.”

“I’m a masochist,” I told her. Laughed at my own joke. “Being with you is painful in a way only I understand. It’s comfortable.” I turned to look at her. “But, you know what? I think it’s time you and I had a new understanding.”

Mom didn’t reply. She could care less what I thought. That’s why I needed to do this. She was going to learn to care about her son, one way or another. I stood up and stretched. Sauntered over to her chair and leaned over her, bracing my weight on the arms of the chair.

“Nothing to say?” I prompted. Shrugged. “Have it your way. But when you start asking yourself why this happened, remember that you could have had a civil discussion.” I grabbed her by the throat and pushed her back into the upholstery. “But a cunt like you never takes the easy way.”

She slapped me. I never saw it coming. The palm of her hand cracked against my face leaving a hand-shaped sting in its wake. I laughed.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” I said. I drew my hand back, met her defiant glare. Laughed and dropped it as if it were a joke. “Very brave, Mom. Very brave.”

“Get your filthy hand off of me!” she snapped. “I’m your mother!”

“I know,” I said. My other hand cracked against her face without warning. Slap. Backhand. Slap. Slap-slap-slap. “That’s why I’m going to rape you.”

My fingers tightened, cutting off her air. I crawled onto the chair, pinning her hands under my knees. The recliner did its job, lifting me over her. Mom’s face turned bright red as anger flooded her eyes. She struggled in futility as I pinned her in place. One hand opened my pants to show her how hard my cock was.

“I’m going to fuck this little whore hole of yours,” I said, laughing as she clenched her thighs. “Not that one, dumbass.” I tapped her lips. “This one. I’ve always wanted to come in your face, Mom.”

“Get… Off… Me…”

“I don’t think so.” I watched her face darken. Her slender body struggled. “Here’s how it’s going to work, Mom. I’m going to shove my cock down your throat. You’re going to suck my dick. You’re going to eat my cum.” Both hands gripped her throat, tightening as purple tinged her eyes. “Not just today, Mom. For the rest of your pitiful fucking life. Because if you ever squeal on me or try to fight back - you won’t have a fucking life to protect.”

I released her throat. Let her cough and hack, fighting for breath against the pain in her throat. Laughing, I tapped my hard cock against her face. Watched her turn one way then the other to keep me out of her mouth.

“Get off of me, Brian,” she scolded between coughing fits. “This is wrong.”

“You don’t know how wrong it is,” I told her. I caught her throat and squeezed again. “The first rule of this game, Mom, is that you do what you’re told. If you get any bright ideas of fighting back…”

I doubled up my fist and hit her right in the mouth. Not hard enough to split her lips open. Just enough to let her know I was serious. Tears flooded her eyes as I choked her a second time.

“You should know, I have this thing about choking women.” Her legs drummed on the footrest of her chair, making me chuckle. “It gets me hard, Mom. But you know why? Because I always pretend it’s you that can’t breathe. ...