Looking back at it all now, I find it pretty amazing that things turned out the way that they did. I guess you could chalk it up to some form of unusual fate that brought everything together. I don�t regret anything, even for a second.
The event that started it all happened when I was 14, but we didn�t know it then. My father died suddenly from a brain aneurysm, and in the blink of an eye it was just the two of us; my mother, Helen, and me, Mark Stafford. The shock was extreme since my dad exercised regularly and ate a balanced diet. He didn�t drink excessively, either. He was the kind of guy you expected to live forever.
We grieved for a long time. Dad was a great guy, and we were a close family. Eventually, things started returning to normal and we got on with our lives, even though we still missed him. In fact we miss him to this day, but that tragic event triggered a chain reaction that neither of us could have predicted.
Three years had passed since my dad�s passing, and I was getting ready to leave high school and move on to bigger and better things. Truth be told, I was looking forward to getting out of the house and away from my mother. Since dad died, she had slowly developed into quite a bitch. She was always happy before, but I knew that a part of her died with him. She was either unwilling or unable to take pleasure in anything anymore.
She never went out, never had fun, and I rarely saw her smile. She really started getting on my back about everything: my room was never quite clean enough, my grades never quite good enough, and my attitude never quite positive enough. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn�t please her.
This particular afternoon I had stayed after school for badminton practice. Mom knew about it, so I wasn�t worried that she�d rag on me if I missed supper. But as soon as I entered the front door she was all over me.
�Where the hell have you been?� she yelled before I even had the front door closed.
�I was at badminton practice. I told you about it yesterday.�
�You did no such thing! How many times have I told you to call when you are going to be late? You�ve ruined a perfectly good supper! You can be such a dimwit sometimes. My God! I don�t know why I even put up with you.�
I looked at the table and saw it was still set with my plate, but the spaghetti was conveniently tossed into the trash. She scowled at me. �I work and I work for you, but you don�t appreciate anything I give you. You�re just a puny little ungrateful runt.�
�And don�t think you�re going to make a new supper. Supper was ready at 5:00 and you missed it, so you can go without mister!� As she said this she stepped closed and put her face directly in front of mine. �Maybe if you stopped chasing after that slut, Julie, you�d be able to remember the most basic instructions.�
When she mentioned Julie, I snapped. I didn�t even see my own hand as it shot across the small space between us and smacked her right in the face. She was stunned. Her eyes grew wide and she looked right at me, sputtering. �Whu�whu��
�Shut Up! Don�t you ever mention Julie again! If you even say another word to me you�ll regret it.�
Her eyes were now as large as headlights. I had never even raised my voice to her in the past. This was so out of character for me that she was flabbergasted. She knew she hit a sore spot with Julie, and I guess she just couldn�t let it go.
�You little shit! What�s wrong? Little miss easy-lay won�t give you any loving and now you need to slap around a woman to feel like a big man?�
Once again, I flipped out. I grabbed my mom�s wrist and dragged her into the living room to the small ottoman there and I sat down, throwing her across my lap. I raised my right hand high above my head and brought it down into her plush ass with all of my force.
Slap!
I heard her say �Oof!� as her breath was forced out of her lungs. I raised my hand again and brought it down hard.
Slap!
Again and again I wailed slap after slap into her ass, and I didn�t hold back. Her ankle-length skirt was fairly light material, and provided little protection so I knew she was feeling every strike. Her cries turned into sobs and them whimpers as I rained blow after blow on her ass cheeks.
To my surprise, she barely struggled; even when I switched hands and had to let her go for a brief moment. Just as my left arm was starting to ache, she tensed up and let out a ferocious scream. I thought I had really hurt her because her whole body was quaking in spasms. I stopped and just watched as she shook for what seemed like minutes.
Then I smelled her. I may have been a virgin, but I could still recognize the musky smell of a woman in heat, and mom must have been in major heat. I was stunned, but I instantly knew her seizure was actually an orgasm. From the looks of things, it was a doozy.
When she finally came down from her orgasmic high she just slumped on my lap and cried. I placed my hand on her bottom and I could feel the heat coming off her skin and through her clothes. Her sobs turned into hiccups, which brought on more sobbing.
�I�m so sorry, Mark. Please�what have I done�?�
I stood up suddenly and she spilled from my lap and landed on her ass with a dull thud. Her legs quivered again and it looked like she was having another mini orgasm. I needed time to think.
�Go to your room. I don�t want to see you for the rest of the night. Is that clear?�
She responded meekly. �Yes.�
I wanted to hear her say it herself. �Yes, what?�
�Yes�sir.�
The �sir� surprised me, but I think I was in sensory overload so I just filed it away for later. I left my mother lying on the living room floor sobbing and headed to my room. I wasn�t hungry anymore.
I didn�t understand what happened downstairs, but I knew it was significant. After browsing the net for a few hours on spanking and orgasms (talk about an eye-opener), I figured that mom may have been a sexual submissive. I had a hard time believing that because she was such a strong person, but also because it�s hard to imagine your parents as sexual creatures, period, let alone kinky ones.
Around midnight I shut off my PC and fell asleep. My dreams were filled with images of my mother writhing around on the floor, but of something else, too; images of me standing over her, dominating her, controlling her. They were very powerful and surprisingly erotic. I had my first ever wet dream that night, and thankfully, my last one.