It was 11 at night. It had been a while since I got home from being at Gus' Games and Grub. I didn't know how many minutes had passed. I was still in my dizzy and stressed stupor as usual, and it didn't help that that same feeling kept me awake. My eyes hurt from staring at the arcade cabinets all day, and I was feeling pretty fucked up. I was pretty sure my stomach was about to explode from the sheer amount of pizza I consumed.
Just as my eyes were about to close, I hear a door open from the hallway. I thought that it was probably one of the twins getting a drink, or maybe somebody going to the bathroom. But then I heard footsteps coming from the opposite end of my door. Then I saw the knob turn.
The door opened slowly, like whoever was opening it was trying to make as less noise as possible. I sat up in my bed, kind of embarrassed to have whoever was in my room seeing me shirtless. I really didn't want people seeing my body, especially if it was one of my sisters.
Whoever opened my door stepped into my room quickly, then shut the door as quietly as they could. It was only when the person walked in front of the window was when I knew who it was.
"Ugh, Mom, why are you up so late?" I asked, rubbing my aching head.
Mom put a finger up to her lips, and shook her head, signalling me to be quiet.
"Don't let your father know I'm in here." She whispered, walking to my side of the bed. I straightened my back.
"But why are you in my room? Weren't you sleeping in your room anyway? Don't tell me you had a nightmare." I joked, though I didn't smile.
"Listen, I have to ask you a favor." She said, sitting down on the bed. I backed up a little.
"What do you want?" I asked.
She sighed. "I want you have sex with me."
"What?!" I said, before Mom's hand covered my mouth. She made a threatening look, and I quieted down. "What the hell. Why would you want to do that?"
She sighed again. "Because after I got married, your father and I were never really… intimate. Like, whenever I would try to fuck him I would--"
"Okay, I get it!" I whispered loudly. I really didn't want to hear about my mom's sex life with Dad, so I had to cut her off somewhere. "But, I'm sorry, no. I will not. It doesn't feel right."
"Please, Lincoln." She said, getting a little closer. "I really… need this. I need it." Each word she inched closer to me. I tried to back away but my back hit the headboard, making my head hurt more.
"No." I muttered out, silently panicking in my head. She basically cornered me on the bed, so there was no chance in hell I could run away.
"I need it, need it, need it." She repeated as if in a trance. Her hand reached out and stroked my bare chest. My stomach lurched and I tried moving her hand away.
"No. Mom, no." I kept saying, as if she would listen.
Finally, she backed away from the bed and sat at the edge, and I breathed a sigh of relief. But then, she grabbed my legs and pulled my body down, making me lie down on the bed. As soon as I was lying down, she put all her weight on top of me, and pinned my arms to the bed. That was when I first felt it: the fear.
But surely, she wouldn't do anything, right? I'm her son. She wouldn't have the emotional strength to do this.
That thought was decimated as soon as she kissed me. My dry and chapped lips were soon met with her smooth and wet ones, her lips smearing red lipstick across my mouth. As I was in my shocked state, I wondered why she would be wearing lipstick at night. I remember seeing her remove her makeup a couple of hours ago. Then it hit me. She planned this.
After the less-than-pleasant kiss, I begged for her to leave. She didn't reply. She leaned down and licked a trail up my chest. I whimpered, muttering another "stop" before she sat back up. I licked my lips, and tasted the lipstick she wore. I would never get that taste out.
She giggled, but nothing about this was funny. I felt like I was going to vomit, but I was afraid to open my mouth. She might have tried to kiss me again. I tried closing my eyes but she slapped me, probably because she wanted me to see my own fucking torment.
Still sitting on my lower body, she made my torture even worse by taking her top off. She wore no bra (of fucking course because the bitch planned it), which caused my body to betray me. Oh, and don't act like I wanted this shit because I fucking didn't.
After she removed her shirt, my mind was still in a numb phase, and my stomach was constantly deciding whether to vomit or not. But, my dick was thinking the exact opposite, and it scared the shit out of me. I didn't want this to happen, so why was my body reacting this way?
I guess she noticed I was hard because she already started pulling my boxers down. At this point I began to panic, trying to wave my arms, hit her, do something to stop this, but it was no use. She was way too strong.
She removed her pants and underwear as well, and that was when I just… shut down. I don't know what else to call it. I was scared out of my goddamn mind, what do you expect? I had actually started tearing up, a few tears ran down my face before she wiped them away.
"I know you're excited, too." She said. In a way she was right. My body was in fact excited. But my mind wasn't. I tried closing my eyes again, but every time I did, she would hit me, forcing me to continue watching.
Then came the most horrible part. With both of us naked and only my mother willing to continue, she kissed me once more before forcefully shoving myself into her.
I cried out, making her clamp a hand over my mouth and she continued moving. I actually started crying, the only thing silencing my sobs being her hand. I think the worst part about it was that it felt undeniably good.
Now, obviously, sex was supposed to make you feel pleasure, and it is the best thing about it. That's why many people are addicted to it. But when it's against your will, it's a different story. Your body is feeling this but you don't want it. And her body felt good, so incredibly good, but it was so fucking wrong! I didn't want this. I was being raped by my own mom for God's sake!
This continued for longer than I could imagine, maybe about ten minutes, and every painstaking minute felt like an hour as wave after wave of unwanted pleasure surged through both of us. I think the worst part was what she kept saying during it.
"I love you! I love you! I love you!" She cried, not even caring that she was being loud. All I could do was cry and wait until it was over.
A few more minutes passed and it happened. She reached orgasm and covered her mouth, screaming into her own hand. I, on the other hand, kept sobbing with body racking cries coming out as mere moans or groans. She got off of me, and I felt a small pang of relief. She got up from the bed, and cleaned herself up. She put her clothes back on, and kissed me on the cheek.
"Thank you." She said before leaving the room, with a content smile across her sadistic face.
I spent the next half hour crying softly into my sheets, wishing that that never happened. But of course, it did, and I'll never forget it. I'll never forgive Mom for what she did. That night was the worst night of my life. It took away every ounce of happiness that I had. I was left shattered, both my mind and body.
At that moment, I was at my worst.