This time it’s a little different. And, very similar. Everyone in this story is over 18 years of age.
One by one, my perfect life fell apart.
First, the coronavirus hit and shut down my university. Then they instituted shelter-at-home orders. I found myself stuck at home with no one but my mom.
The final straw came a few days later. When I finally returned to my childhood bedroom, I got a call from my college girlfriend, Cassie. She wanted to FaceTime and I thought it was time to have our first hot virtual sex. I took off my pants and turned on the screen.
Cassie was there, but she was well dressed and had a sad face.
“I can’t do this,” she said, “I don’t know how we can stay together if we’re separated like this.” To say the least, the pretty brunette looked sad. Her reasoning doesn’t make any sense though. Everyone is stuck inside. It’s not like we’re in a long distance relationship, I can go out on a date and he’ll never know. Oh my god, I’m at home with my mom.
“I can’t,” Cassie repeated, “I’m sorry. When this is over, when we get back to school, we can try again.”
She clicked to close the screen. I put my jeans back on with shame and sadness. Cassie and I have been dating for about six months. I don’t think I’ll marry the girl, but I also don’t think we’ll break up anytime soon. She left me so suddenly that made me sad.
That dinner time, I had almost no appetite. I pushed the food onto my plate like a lazy cat chasing a mouse. The purpose of murder is never accomplished.
“What happened?” Mom asked. I turned to her and for a moment I was fascinated by her big blue eyes.
I can admit that my mother is beautiful. She has honey-colored blonde hair and a warm, sunny face. Her tomboyish outfits — she always wears a flannel shirt with a white ribbed tank top and high-waisted mom jeans — make her even more beautiful.
All of my high school friends were after her. I know there were at least two guys in our group who only hung out with me because it meant they would get my mom’s attention. Even the few dates I brought home shook when I saw my mom.
“I’m fine,” I said, which was the usual evasive answer.
“Come, talk to me,” said mother, “you always trust me, you know.”
Indeed. As a child, my mother and I were very close. We both loved reading books and watching plays. She would take me on errands and teach me sewing and cooking. My mother has always been my constant companion.
Everything changed when I was 13. When I try to hug her or show my affection, she flinches like I’m going to hit her. We no longer spend time together. I gave up being a mom and going out with my son. I spent most of high school with my dad, which presented its own unique set of problems.
It’s not that mom is mean or cruel. Just different. That’s why I wanted to go to college right after high school, and part of the reason I was scared to go home because of COVID.
“Really, Jay, what’s wrong?” Mom asked me again.
Instinctively, I looked over to where Dad usually sat with us at the small round table in the kitchen. I am used to him mediating for me. Unfortunately, Dad was on a trip abroad when the virus broke out and was not coming home anytime soon. I am alone.
Mom put her hand on mine and brought me back to the present moment. The truth is, I want to tell someone. Need to. Plus, with no one around, I figured it would be easy for Mom to hide things from me.
“Cassie and I broke up,” I mumbled, barely.
“What happened?” the mother asked.
The words caught in my throat, then spilled out. “She said she didn’t think we could be together during quarantine,” I said.
“Well, that’s so stupid,” said Mom.
I was shocked. I wasn’t used to my mother taking my side, and I wasn’t used to hearing her abuse me.
Mom saw the look on my face, realized what she had said, and blushed. “Sorry, I think your old mother still has a little fire left in her.”
“You are not old, mother,” I said plainly. A smile appeared on my mother’s lips. She quickly turned and left.
I’m not just being modest. Mom is only 38, so she could easily pass for someone in their 20s. She and my father raised me when they were in their 20s. I had a lot of misfortune in college (my mother would say sadly during the final performance of the college spring play, as if that were a detail I needed to know). Although I’m sure it was difficult for them to have children at the time, being ten years younger than most other people with kids my age benefited them greatly.
“Anyway,” Mom continued, “I’m sorry about what happened to you and Kelly.”
“Cassie,” I said.
“Yes,” said Mother, “but if she is that shallow, she is doing you a favor. You deserve someone better.”
Now it was my turn to blush. As I said, I am not used to receiving compliments from my mother.
After dinner, I helped my mother clear the table and wash the dishes. We were standing in front of the sink, her arms were soaked in soapy water and I was drying them with a small cloth. At one point, our hips collided and my eyes fell on my mother’s body.
As I said, I am her son. I have nothing to give my mother. But that doesn’t mean I can’t see her for what she is: a very beautiful woman with a sweet face and a sexy, toned body. That way, I thought, it would be like looking at a painting in an art gallery. I can acknowledge that something is beautiful without breaking it and taking it home with me.
Mom noticed me looking and walked away quickly. She jokingly pushed my shoulder.
“Read your own newspaper, sir,” mother said, smiling.
“Moo,” I groaned like a typical little boy, “I didn’t.”
“I’m just kidding,” Mom said, “And, I know you’re single right now, but that’s no reason to lower your standards.”
“Mom, I’d be lucky to be with you. I mean, a woman who looks like you. I mean…”
Mom put a hand on my shoulder to stop me. She smiled so brightly that it seemed as if the corners of her mouth were reaching her ears. Her white, straight teeth almost sparkled in the dim light of the kitchen.
“That’s fine,” she said, “I understand and appreciate your compliment. It’s very nice. Especially coming from a female assassin like you.”
For a moment, I thought my mother was talking about my behavior with women, and I became defensive. “I’m not like that,” I said.
“No, no,” Mom said, “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant at all. Girls like you. I see them sizing you up. Like your high school girlfriends will fall in love with you.”
“Oh,” I said.
I tried to imagine what my mom meant, but I couldn’t figure it out. I had a few girlfriends in high school, no big deal. Did they faint? I don’t think so. And how?
Suddenly this was all on my mind and it wasn’t any fun anymore. I put the dishes away and stepped away from the sink.
“I know you’re disappointed, Jay,” Mom said, “but trust me, you’ll find someone worth your time.”
“Thanks,” I said, still disappointed.
“How about we watch a movie tonight to cheer you up?” she said, “That’s a little silly.”
If you have to choose between watching stupid shows on TV with your mom or sitting alone in your room mopping the floor, it’s an easy decision.
*
Mom made a big bowl of popcorn and we settled down on the couch in the living room. She clicked on the TV and scrolled through the options. With Dad, watching TV was easy: we just selected hockey. If the hockey game wasn’t on, we watched the hockey game on tape. Simple and easy. My mom is picky.
But she paused when she found bridesmaids on the menu. My mom is not a very “outgoing” woman. She wasn’t one to partake wildly, even in her youth. She was a theater buff in college and, as she explains, was probably the last person you’d expect to have an unexpected pregnancy.
Mom didn’t dress pretentious. She likes safe music, what I’ll call “mom rock.” She rarely swears. Her one secret is that she loves cheesy comedy . It’s like finding out that your priest is a huge metalhead, or that your grandmother is a great League of Legends champion. It was completely out of character for them, but it didn’t affect Mom’s personality.
“What did you say?” Mom asked. Honestly, it seemed to fit my mood at the time.
I have seen this movie many times and I still find myself immersed in it. When we saw the classic bathroom scene my mom and I laughed so hard that tears ran down our cheeks. We watched the rest of the movie, both lying down as if we were in physical pain from hysteria.
“Look, don’t you feel better?” Mom asked as she turned off the TV. I have to admit I did.
*
However, the next morning, the sadness returned to me. I spent most of the day lying in bed wondering what my mother was doing. To her credit, she ignored me. I think she understood that I needed some time to grieve.
At the end of the day, she knocked on my door. I had been lying around in my boxers all day, so I quickly put on a shirt. I was just getting dressed when my mother came in. She started to speak, then began to stutter.
“Hi, I’m…” Mom was stunned and looked at my chest.
I’ve been playing hockey since my freshman year of high school. It was dad’s thing, so I almost had to join in. The fact that my mom hated me playing was an added bonus at the time.
I wasn’t world-class at hockey, but I was good enough to get a scholarship. I knew I wasn’t going to be a star – I was on the third line in a two-star program – but whatever. It’s D1 and free education and I’ll take full advantage of it. Plus, I think I’ll end up with a lot of good stories about being signed on board by some future NHL stars.
However, hockey is an all-out physical sport. It’s not like baseball, where you can have a lot of guts and still score a 98 on the radar gun. Skating can get your legs into incredible shape, but you also need upper body strength. Playing in college took me to a whole new level. I haven’t even had a full year of training yet, but I’m already in the best shape of my life.
I guess I’m quite hurt, that’s what I’m saying. Mom noticed. She stood there, half naked, staring at me. I knew my mother didn’t want to see her son naked, but I didn’t expect her to be so upset.
“Sorry,” I said shyly and took off my shirt.
“That’s okay,” Mom said, “remind me next time.”
I have to apologize again. “So what’s going on?”
“I wanted to see what you were doing,” Mom said.
“Oh, I’m fine,” I said. I lay back on the bed.
“Of course,” Mom said, a smile on her face. “I guess I can make dinner and then we can watch another movie.”
I looked back at my bed. I just wanted to crawl under the covers. But I heard my stomach growl and knew I needed to eat.
I went downstairs to help my mom make dinner. It’s been a while since we did a project like this together and it was fun. It’s like having an old friend back.
After we finished eating, we stood at the sink and washed the dishes. Once, I dropped a large plate in the soapy water, it splashed and soaked my mom’s chest. I glanced over and saw a bit of her nipple through the wet white tank top. Mom’s breasts aren’t big to begin with. She has a nice pair of tits. To be honest, I hadn’t thought about them until that moment. Now, they are all I can see.
Mom stared at me, then looked down at her breasts. She furrowed her eyebrows.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
The corners of my mother’s mouth curled up. “I’m going to change,” she said, “Be careful next time, okay?”
Mom came back wearing a lime green nightgown that reached down to her knees. For a moment, I had the thought that maybe she wasn’t wearing any underwear under that dress. What’s wrong with me? Less than a month after returning to China, I’ve already become a pervert? Mom is not a sexual creature, she’s my mother. But there was something about that long, shapeless shirt that was completely exciting. I can’t exactly explain why.
After washing the dishes, we returned to the couch and Mom picked out another great comedy. This time, she chose an old airplane called “Airplane.”
“Your grandmother loved it very much,” said Mother.
Almost immediately, I realized my grandmother was a very different woman than I had imagined. The plane is dirty . Full of dirty, inappropriate humor. I thought the world would be a freer place, but there are some moments in that movie that no one would dare act out in 2020.
Then there are the sex jokes. At one point, a topless woman appears on screen for no apparent reason, her breasts flying around. I looked at my mom and she shrugged like it was nothing. Another scene features a long blowjob gag where Julie Hagerty must perform oral sex on a self-piloting balloon to keep the balloon inflated. Mom was laughing through the whole scene.
Once again I had to readjust my thinking. I know Mom had sex. Uh, she had me. But the idea that Mom might find oral sex funny, that is, that she did, boggles my mind. Of course, rationally, these revelations are silly. But some part of me has not yet processed the idea, on the contrary, this reshuffling has made me nervous.
After the movie was over, my mother and I lay on the couch and laughed again. I went to bed again and felt much better.
Over the next few days, we found ourselves settling into a routine. We were alone most of the day. I stayed in my room playing video games and taking virtual classes. Mom did her usual mommy work, mainly gardening or cleaning the house. She couldn’t even go out for shopping (we have groceries delivered at the door). Around 4 pm, we came out to our respective corners and cooked ourselves a nice meal, which ended with a lively comedy.
After watching “Planes,” we stayed up for a while and watched Mel Brooks’ movies: “Young Frankenstein,” “Blazing Saddles,” “The History of the World Part 1,” and “Spaceballs.” Then we went back to Jack Abrams’ oeuvre and watched all three of The Naked Gun movies.
With the classics out of the way, we move on to something more modern, starting with The 40-Year-Old Virgin. This time it was Mom’s turn to look at me weirdly as Steve Carell swayed back and forth with his hard erection. But I didn’t say anything. For a movie about sex, the movie overall isn’t super sexy.
However, the next movie we chose caused us trouble. In fact, it’s all a very bad day.
I was getting ready for another hardcore game when mom knocked on my door. I was wearing my underwear and this time, I knew I had to warn my mom that I was not being decent. I put my clothes on and opened the door. Even though I was already dressed, my mom’s gaze went from my feet to my face. She looked disappointed, like she was expecting to catch me half naked. Or maybe it’s just my outfit. Yeah, that makes more sense.
“What are you going to do?” the mother asked.
I pointed to my PS4 as if it were obvious.
“I’m thinking of painting my nails,” Mom said.
“Okay.” I looked at her fingers and they looked fine. To be honest, I’m not sure why she said that to me.
“My hands are fine, but I can’t touch anything for a while until they dry out.”
“Do you want me to make lunch?” I asked.
“Of course,” Mom said, “but I want to paint my toenails, too. It’ll be easier to have someone else do it for me.”
“You want me to paint your toenails,” I repeated.
“It ‘s not so girly,” Mom said, “Just think about it and practice. If you can do it for your girlfriends, they’ll love it.”
I realize that’s a little far fetched, but whatever. It was early spring, but the weather was exceptionally warm, so we headed out to the backyard. Mom sat in the chair and started painting her nails dark purple. I sat with her and chatted while she worked.
We talked about school and hockey. For someone who hates sports, my mom sure knows a lot about the game.
“Honey, I took you to almost all the practices and games,” Mom said. I guess she does.
Dad loved me playing hockey and he was happy to watch games with me. But in most other ways, he is very distant. Some of it was work, he was always traveling for something or the other. In fact, we shouldn’t have been so surprised that he was stuck on another continent when COVID-19 hit.
Even though my dad was home, he wasn’t the most supportive person in my life. The pep talk he wanted was a slight growl and then pointing at the TV to remind me I was interrupting. Sure, he was never mean to his mom. But I’ve also never seen him be that affectionate. Dad is just… Dad. He’s this weird silent creature who somehow has always been my safe haven when my relationship with my mom got rocky for some reason.
So, now that I think about it, it was definitely my mother who took me to training and competitions. Since we had such a cold relationship with each other, I think that moment never came.
When she finished her nails, Mom held them up for me to see.
“Great,” I said, not sure what else to say.
“Thank you.” Mom said with a happy face. She wiggled her toes towards me.
“The same color?” I asked.
“Of course,” said mother.
I took the bottle of purple nail polish and placed my mom’s bare feet on my lap. I’m not a feet person, but my mom has lovely feet. To make matters even worse, she placed them on my crotch. My boy had no idea that she was my mom. Instead, he just felt a beautiful woman’s bare feet hovering over him and decided to go all in.
I tried my best to ignore my aching penis, hoping it would go away. But when I started fondling my mom’s cute little toes, I felt like I was working harder.
Mom withdrew her first foot. She gave me the second. Only then did her heel clearly and distinctly touch my cock.
“Oh,” Mom said, and for a moment I was worried she was about to lose her temper. But then she sat back in her seat, ignoring the contact. I started biting her nails as if it was nothing.
“Do you want me to do your chores?” Mom asked when I was done. I couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.
“Uh, it’s okay,” I said, shaking him off.
I got up to make lunch. We stopped outside to get some fresh air and eat sandwiches. By then, Mom’s hands were dry and she could resume her normal life. But when I went upstairs to my bedroom, the idea of staying there started to seem boring.
“I think I’m going to take a walk,” I said to my mom, “We can do that, right? The police won’t come after me if I leave the house, right?”
“I think you’ll be fine, dear,” Mom said, “Do you want me to come with you?”
“It’s up to you,” I said.
Mom nodded and continued folding clothes. As I walked around the block, I realized how out of shape I was. Coach would kill me if I went back to school like this. I couldn’t go to the gym and I didn’t have weights at home, but I knew I needed to at least run. It was still early in the year and I thought we might have hockey season when we got back. I know, I’m a little naive.
When I got home, I took a shower and then helped my mom make dinner. As we ate, I told her that I planned to get up early and go for a run.
“Sounds good,” he said, “Do you mind if I come with you? Your old mother needs to lose all this fat.” He pinched her side for emphasis.
“Mom, you’re not…you’re perfect, okay?” I said, “Really.”
“Tell your dad,” Mom whispered.
After cleaning, my mother went to put the TV on. She pressed the remote, but nothing happened.
“Huh,” she said disappointedly. I did the mansplaining thing and snatched the remote control, but to my embarrassment, I couldn’t even do that. We spent the next half hour playing with electronics, looking for solutions on the internet. As far as we know, a relatively new TV dies as soon as it comes online.
