EroticReverie

Nicole 

I heard the garage door over twenty minutes ago. So when my parents don’t come in right away I roll my eyes , knowing they’re hooking up like teenagers in the car.  I’m just thankful I don’t have to listen to it. Because my mother was loud and they were never careful about being quiet. I complained to my mother once and she told me I was old enough to know adults had sex and she wouldn’t stop making love to her husband because it was a natural thing. 

I hear the door to the garage open and slam harder than normal and the gear the car start and roll over and peek out my bedroom window and see my father back out of the drive way faster than is safe and drive off. My brows pinch. He’s angry. Upset. Or in a hurry. Something could be wrong. My curiosity to make sure everything is okay has me slipping out of bed. Wearing just my sleep shorts and tank top I slide on my house slippers and walk out of my room.

“Mom?” I call out. No answer. I go down the hall and down the stairs. 

“Mom?” I call again as I hear the glug of a wine bottle and turn the corner and find her sitting at the dining room table with a half full glass of wine and a bottle and tears in her eyes. 

My brows pinch. My parents never fought. So something har to be wrong. Did someone fucking die? 

“What’s wrong? What happened? Where’d dad go?” I ask as I walk over. 

I was angry with my mother a lot of the time. Trying to navigate my feelings towards her. I didn’t hate her. Even though there were times I thought I did.  But seeing her cry, isn’t something I like. She’s imperfect. She’s not a monster ,even if she has lured me into bed with her for the past few years. 

“Mom, what’s wrong?” I ask as I sit down and she sniffs and lifts her wine glass. 

“Nothing” she says. “Go back to bed I’m fine” she says and takes a long sip.  Another. The line of wine lowered an inch in the glass as she takes a deep breath. 

“Is dad okay?” I ask. She huffs. My brow lifting as she takes another sip. 

“Did you get in a fight?” I ask. 

“It’s none of your concern Nicole. Go to your room.” She says and still doesn’t look at me. 

I should just go to my room. But I also have never in my entire life heard or seen my parents get into a fight. Maybe some bickering or a small argument. But there were never slammed door and tears. 

“Mom, don’t cry” I say gently and she lifts her eyes to me. Her lip wobbling and I tuck my own into my mouth and bite down. I’ve always been empathetic, when other people cry, you can bet on me shedding a few tears as well. 

I reach over the table and place my hand out and she looks at it. 

“Do you hate me? Am I a bad mother?” She asks and let my lip slip from my teeth. 

“I don’t hate you.” I say. 

“But I’m a bad mother?” She asks and I shake my head. 

“You’re not a bad mother.” I say. And I mean it. Growing up. She was the best mom. It wasn’t until the past few years when I lost that mother to another kind of mother. One that wanted me to be her little girl in a different way. 

“Did dad say you were a bad mom?” I ask and she sniffs and shakes her head. 

“I love you , you know that right?” She asks. Tears steaming down her face and I nod. 

“Yeah mom, I know” I say. 

Because I know she does. Even if I denied her and didn’t let her have me the way she wanted me, she’d still love me. I couldn’t tell if it was her fault or her parents for making her believe this was all normal. 

“I love you too” I say and she cries a bit harder. 

“Where did dad go?” I ask and she shrugs. 

“Was the fight bad?” I ask and she looks at me. 

“We didn’t fight.” She says. 

I wait for her to add more , but she doesn’t. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” I ask. She shakes her head. 

I sigh. 

“Can I have a glass of wine with you?” I ask and she smiles just barely and sniffs and nods to the kitchen. 

“Get a glass” she says. 

I go to the kitchen and grab a wine glass and come back and sit down with her , beside her and she pours me a half glass while pouring herself another.

“You’re not a bad mom.” I tell her again. 

“I don’t…” I start. Trying to figure out how to word my thoughts. 

“I don’t understand you sometimes. But you’re not a bad mom” I say and she looks at me. 

“I just wanted you to love me the way I love my mother” she says. 

I chew my lip. 

“I just wanted us to be like my family. It wasn’t bad Nicole. It’s not bad to love my daughter this way.” She says with a sniffle. 

I couldn’t assure her of her opinion. Because I wasn’t sure I agreed. But , I wouldn’t tell her she was wrong either.  

“It’s…” I start and then decide I need a sip of wine. The flavors burst over my tongue distracting me for a moment and rub my tongue against my lips as I think.

“I don’t know what to say to that” I say.

“You think it’s wrong?” She asks and I sigh. 

“Mom, it’s not….normal…no matter how much you want it to be. It’s just not.” I say and she looks away but at least she doesn’t keep crying. 

“You don’t love me. Not the way I love my mother.” She says. 

I sigh. “I do love you.” I say and she shakes her head. 

“Not that way.” She says and lifts her glass. 

“I’m not going to tell you it’s okay. That convincing me to have sex with you is okay.” I say and she looks at me. 

“Because it’s not. You’re not a bad mom. You’re just….your parents took advantage of you….told you it was normal…and I know you believe it is…but it’s not mom….families aren’t supposed to have sex together.” I say with a sigh. 

“Why not?” She asks and I just blink. 

“Because they’re just not mom” I say and she keeps looking at me. As if that answer isn’t good enough. 

“Well. At least you and your father agree with each other.” She says and looks away and takes another drink. 

“You both agree that I’m sick” she says and I roll my eyes. 

“Mom, don’t do that. I don’t …I’m not going to tell you what we do is right. Or what your parents do with you is right. Because it’s not. But I don’t think you’re sick. I think they brainwashed you into believing that there’s nothing wrong with it. But. It’s incest mom.” I say. 

“Why does it have to be wrong?” She asks and I sigh. Because we’ve already had this conversation. 

“It just IS.” I say and she takes another drink. 

“Not wrong enough for you to cum.” She says and my jaw drops. 

“It’s still wrong” I say and she shrugs. 

“Not wrong enough for you to bed me to fuck you harder.” She says and I clench my jaw. 

“Don’t.  Go there.” I say to her. 

“Not wrong enough for you to be a little slut and beg for my mouth to get you off.” She says and stand up. 

“You know what? Yes.it feels good. It’s fucking sex. You licking my pussy feels so fucking good it drives me fucking crazy. You fucking me feels so fucking good I can’t fucking stand it. And enjoy it. Every fucking time!” I raise my voice and she just looks at me. 

“But that doesn’t mean it’s right!” I yell at her. 

“It doesn’t mean it’s okay!” I yell louder. Tears in my eyes. Because , fuck her. Fuck her for being a bitch to me just because she’s upset. Fuck her for rubbing it in that I cum for her. That she can make me fucking beg for it. 

“You and your father can keep telling yourselves that .” She says. 

My nostrils flare and I turn. Done with this conversation.

“Yet you get off for me when I fuck you. And he gets off to me whispering to him making him picture you on his cock.”  She says and stop. My feet frozen on the floor. 

“That’s why he’s angry. That’s why he took off. Because he hates it. Hates that I’m right. Just like you do.  He hates how much he wants to fuck you.” She hisses. 

“Goodnight mom” I say. Not even looking at her. Not even turning to let her see my face. Afraid she’ll see the hint of something there. The pleasure in that knowledge that has a fire brewing low in my belly.