Book 5: Mouse’s Rival
Melanie was able to restrain herself all the way until the next Sunday, bothered by the memory of what she’d been envisioning with her too masculine son Doug. It was even after noon that day before she had her first drink. She was dressed, very properly, in a skirt and a loose fitting blouse with a high collar, buttoned all the way up to her neck, when she had her first glass of scotch, and her second. Dan was away on business for another week. Rick was out with his friends.
Doug was home with her again.
She looked at him, over her third glass, sprawled on the couch, his limbs irreverently tossed helter skelter about the couch back and coffee table both. He was so large he just couldn’t fit properly on a normal, human sofa. He had a pile of thick text books and worn notebooks strewn about, on the couch and coffee table top, the common tools of a student studying for finals.
He’d said the class was a joke, that he was wasting his time by studying, but he had nothing better to do.
Melanie studied his body. When she closed her eyes, she could see him again on the deck, on the recliner. His clothes were gone and she could admire the fine tone and timber of his body.
She wondered if he ever noticed hers. In high school, the young boys never noticed her breasts, but in college they did. She’d become quite adept at helping them to notice her tits, when she wanted.
She couldn’t actually do anything with her own son, but she wondered if she could excite him.
Melanie’s fingers were distractedly, almost imperceptibly tickling the tops of her breasts, through the fabric of her blouse. She hadn’t even realized it. If she’d been wearing a necklace she would have been fingering that, instead.
Doug wasn’t looking as she undid the top most buttons of her blouse, just one button further than she should have gone. The flesh colored lace at the edge of her bra was just barely visible, from the right angles. The flesh of her breasts above it was plainly visible. She undid one more button, but made sure that the folds of the blouse stayed together, hiding the indiscretion. She pulled her bra down slightly, too, just exposing the top edges of her wide, round aureolas.
She wasn’t going to be bad. It was just harmless fun. She’d just tease the dear boy. Nothing was going to happen. She wasn’t that foolish. She knew that. She hadn’t done anything the last time, had she? She’d over reacted to the whole thing. She was thinking more clearly now, she thought, as she took another sip of her drink and then set it down on a sofa table.
Melanie calmly strode over to the space between the couch and the coffee table. She carefully and primly slid a pile of books aside, to make a place to sit on the edge of the coffee table itself. She did so very properly, with her knees held tightly together and angled to one side.
Doug didn’t even glance at her. He was absorbed in his studying, and probably silently annoyed that she was intruding.
“I haven’t been to college in so long, I’ve forgotten what studying is like.”
She leaned forward, putting her head above his, trying to peer at the pages of the book he held in front of his face. The posture put the opening in her blouse just a foot from his eyes, very unabashedly exposing the tops of her breasts. The boy would have to bury his face in the back of the couch to avoid looking. The top of his hair just barely tickled her ear and the side of her neck. She couldn’t see his eyes, so he was free to look as much as he wished.
She stayed there a while, reading several lines from the page out loud, to set him at ease with his sudden predicament, or opportunity. She let him feel he had some time. She continued for a while, letting his eyes, hopefully, linger, letting him get comfortable.
She pulled slowly back as she finished reciting the last sentence, giving him time to recover, to hide is voyeurism. Sitting ramrod straight now, thrusting her chest out, accentuating her size as much as she could, she smiled warmly at him, just a mother sharing a proud moment with her cherished son.
She could see by the flush and confusion on the boy’s face that he had been looking. It seemed to her that he was having a hard time keeping his eyes from drifting back down. His mouth was ever so slightly open, it’s slackness hinting that his thoughts, and probably his heart, were racing. He kept his own big, excited brown eyes locked on hers, as if he were afraid that they would fall to her chest, and he’d be caught staring.
Maybe it was her imagination. So why stop here?
She leaned in again, in the exact same way, using one finger to turn the pages for him, as if she were hunting for a particular passage. She picked a section at random, and began reading again. She read slowly and evenly, in a soft, calming, unhurried tone of voice. Let him get comfortable again. Let him enjoy the view.
This time she stopped abruptly, in mid sentence, very suddenly pulling back and looking down, just Mecidiyeköy Escort quickly enough, leaving her breasts there but trying to catch him in the act, to catch him staring, and to enjoy any expression of lust she could catch on his face.
Melanie immediately looked back at the pages of the book, smoothly she hoped, to let him think she hadn’t noticed, yet frantic to hide her grin, hiding the pleasure of perfect success she felt upon seeing that she had him, that he was loving every moment of this. She was also, tacitly, letting his gaze return to her flesh.
She turned the page again. Before doing so, she put her hand on his, to help hold the book. He seemed, almost imperceptibly, to flinch at her touch, at first. His hands were startlingly warm. She could almost feel the blood coursing through is veins, faster and more urgently than usual.
She applied a gentle, unassuming pressure to his hand, enjoying the heat of the smooth contact, while easing the book lower, presumably for a better view of the page. Instead, she let her own glance stay straight ahead, as the book descended, and his knees and then crotch came into view.
The sight of the bulge in his shorts made her heart stop. His cock was straining to pop loose from the confines of his clothes. One sight of his dear mother’s breasts, her own nipples flushed with raw, sexual excitement, had driven the boy to the brink. Her own eyes fogged over as she vividly remembered the image of that stiff, naked, precious cock, tensing and jerking, then delivering a river of cum up and out and over his delicious, gleaming torso.
Her mind swam with the liquor. Her last drink was starting to kick in, now. She had to be careful.
Without thinking, as if someone else were in her body, she stood now. As she stood, she held his hand tightly, drawing him up from the couch, to stand in front of her.
“I’m so proud of you, Baby,” she told him, while falling into his young, dark, excited eyes.
She let her hands slip under his arms, around his waist. She rested her head on his shoulder as she pulled him close, into a motherly embrace.
“I love you. I love everything you’ve ever done,” she breathed straight into his ear.
Her own breasts tingled with pleasure as they pressed flat against his firm chest. With her own hands in the small of his back, she hugged him tightly, pulling him into her, delightfully pulling his hips to hers. The feel of his bulge pressing against her loins made her instantly wet, or more wet than she already was. She felt as if her pussy was on fire.
She thought she’d never wanted a cock in her so badly in her whole life.
Doug’s hands rested timidly on her shoulder blades, holding her, but applying no pressure, as if he were afraid of the contact. Eventually, his fingers moved. The pressure became more firm, while his finger tips traced very small, almost imperceptible but pleasing paths over her back.
Melanie’s own hands began to massage his lower back, rubbing more insistently, working their way slightly lower. She hesitated, in her mind, even as her hands continued to move.
Did she have the nerve? Could she let her hands fall farther down, to the top of his tense, muscular ass. Could she get away with it? Could she pull him more firmly, pull his bulge more firmly against her own rebelling, pleading body?
“Mom…” he said, his voice a husky whisper.
The sound of the word thrilled her. It sent shivers down her spine. His voice was so sexy, so masculine and mature, but at the same time submissive and hesitant.
At the same time, the word, that one word, shocked her into consciousness. Her mind raced with other words and thoughts. Incest. Her son. Her husband. Her mistakes. Her failures.
She tried to step back, not too quickly, trying not to seem panicked, but she tried to break the contact. The back of one calf struck the edge of the coffee table with a painful stab. She would have fallen, if his strong arms weren’t there to catch her, to hold her up.
As it was, she wound up leaning away from him, her breasts no longer plastered against his chest, but instead exposed by a blouse that she now realized she’d opened much too far for a discrete game of hide and peek. Meanwhile, in her pose, her hips were now thrust that much more firmly against his. The huge, hard bulge at his crotch was now driven hard against hers, as if trying to tear through his pants and her skirt, both, to immediately join them in an incestuous union.
Melanie could feel the blush rising in her face. She looked away to hide it, frightened, moving her hands to his shoulders, pulling herself upright and then quickly pushing him away with that same gentle touch she had used to move the book out of her line of sight.
“Ow,” she said, more as an excuse to break the mood than as an expression of her pain.
She stumbled awkwardly to the side as he apologized, moving out of her way, giving her room, obviously embarrassed. He sat on the couch, covertly lifting one Escort Mecidiyeköy leg up, bent at the knee, to hide his now obvious erection.
Melanie stole a discrete glance that way, then tore her eyes from it, turning away to go look out the window. She stood there, composing herself, afraid to turn around.
“It’s okay,” she said. “It just stings. It’ll pass.”
She felt a tear coming to her eye, along with the emotional impact, the guilt, at what she’d just been doing, and where she was heading.
When she turned around, Doug had returned to studying, his face very, very intently staring unseeing at his book on the coffee table. A notebook was modestly draped on his lap, over his crotch.
Neither made eye contact with the other as Melanie coasted out of the room, afraid of saying another word.
* * *
Most of the day passed, with Melanie hiding in her room, dealing with guilt and shame. Her mind raced with a thousand thoughts, fantasies and outcomes, both good and bad, that could change her entire life.
The alcohol slowly wore off, letting her think more clearly, but also letting her feel more strongly. Her sense of guilt increased a thousand fold.
She had no idea how much damage she’d done to those she loved.
Doug yelled up that he was going out. As soon as she heard the door close, Melanie finally let loose. She didn’t cry often. None of the women in their family did. They were strong.
She poured decades of emotion out in tears and sobs, trying to empty herself of whatever darkness was driving her to unspeakable depths.
Mouse couldn’t remember actually seeing Melanie cry, let alone hearing her sob. The sobs came so quickly and uncontrollably that Melanie couldn’t finish sentences. Mouse had no clue what was going on. It was making her panic. Her heart raced, while her mind tried to beat it, conjuring the worst possible tragedies that might cause Melanie to behave like this.
“What’s wrong? Calm down, what’s wrong.”
“I’m so sorry, Mona…”
“What? What’s happened?”
“What’s happened to him. Oh, God, what is it?”
“I happened to him, Mona. I happened.”
Mouse waited for the next sob to subside, and for Melanie to continue.
“I hurt him. I hurt him, and I hurt you.”
“Melanie, calm down. Take a deep breath. It can’t be that bad. He’s your brother. You love him.”
“That’s the God damn Fucking point!”
“What’s the point?”
“He’s my brother!”
Mouse’s heart slowed down, as she stopped worrying that something more had happened to her love, something physical and painful and God help her permanent, something that might steal him from her.
But Melanie didn’t know that Mouse already knew about them, about what they’d done.
Mouse got angry. If he’d fucked her again she was going to kill him.
Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe Michael had simply finally gotten the courage to let Mel talk to him, and it had all gone wrong.
Maybe Mouse should stop guessing and ask questions, if Mel could answer without sobbing.
“Mel, calm down. It’s annoying. Speak clearly.”
There was a brief pause before the inevitable explosion.
“It’s annoying? It’s. Annoying?”
“You have no idea how annoying.”
“Mouse, I fucked Michael. Did you here me? I fucked Michael. I fucked our brother. I fucked your lover. I didn’t just fuck him, I raped him. I got him drunk, I got us both ripping drunk, and I chained him to Doug’s bed, and I fucked him as hard and long as I could. I fucked our brother, Mouse. Our brother. Your brother.”
Melanie emphasized the final words, making it clear that she recognized an unspoken degree of possession of Michael by Mouse, one that Melanie didn’t, or shouldn’t, share.
Mouse could almost hear the word “brother” being replaced by the word “lover.”
“Mel, listen. I know. Michael told me. A while ago. He should have talked to you by now.”
Melanie was silent. Mouse wasn’t sure which of a thousand things she could be thinking. She could be angry that Mouse knew and hadn’t let on. She could be angry at Michael for not speaking with her. Or she could still just be confused and angry with herself, and unsure of what was going to happen next.
“I know, Mel, and it bugs me, but not as much as you’d think. I know you’re never going to steal him. It wouldn’t work, with the two of you, and neither of you would hurt me that way, and anyway you’re married, happily if distractedly married. And anyway, you think incest is ‘ewww’.”
That got a muffled chuckle out of Melanie, and a sniffle.
“The thing is, Mel, you’ve been beating yourself up when you shouldn’t, entirely. I mean, you’re an incestuous whore, like me…”
Melanie didn’t laugh at that.
“Well, sort of like me. And I’m not saying you should have done it. But it’s done. It’s over. You have to deal with it. You and Michael have to deal with it. Don’t let him dodge you any more. Stop being Mecidiyeköy Escort Bayan nice about it. Corner him. Yell at him. Make the shit head listen, and talk it out, and find some peace.”
“But there’s more,” Melanie interrupted.
If she’d fucked him again, Mouse would kill them both. She would.
“I liked it. I didn’t… I felt guilty and shameful as all hell, I made myself sick, and I felt sick for a week. I was scared to see him, and I know I’ve changed our relationship forever. I know I fucked things up, for you and him and me and him and you and I, but I still did it, and I still liked it. I liked it.”
“What’s not to like?” Mouse asked, trying to sound flip. It came out flat. She decided to shut up.
“Not Michael,” Melanie said. “I mean, yes, Michael, he was good. I don’t mean that. I do. I mean, Michael was good, but he didn’t try to be…”
Mouse waited, giving Melanie a chance to start over.
“I liked it. I liked committing incest. I liked raping him, taking him against his will. I liked the evil, wicked feeling of it all.”
Mouse waited some more. This was all familiar to her. She knew exactly how it felt, and how much she herself enjoyed it.
“But then I went too far.”
Here it was. Mouse waited, impatiently this time.
“I tried to fuck Doug.”
Mouse was in shock.
“Oh, God, Mel. Doug? Your son?”
“My son. My adorable, perfect, innocent son.”
“What happened? What did you do? What did he do?”
“We didn’t do anything. He certainly didn’t do anything. I did. I did too much, but I came to my senses in time.”
“I just teased him. I got drunk again. I got fucking drunk, and…”
Mel tailed off as the words threatened to turn into another sob. She choked it off, pausing to take an audible, deep breath.
Mouse silently listened to Melanie recount the entire story, all of it, the way she’d fantasized about Michael, the way she’d tried to keep him away in real life, the way she’d lost control, the way she’d found Doug, naked, on the deck, what she’d done then, and what she’d just done now.
Melanie wasn’t kind to herself. She obviously didn’t sugar coat anything. She told Mouse everything, apparently not leaving anything out, willingly answering every question Mouse had, as if giving an honest, unfettered answer was part of her penance.
As she spoke, she calmed. At certain points she would sob, or lose her breath, or need to pause, but as the conversation went on, as she was able to talk it out, she calmed herself.
“Look, Doug has a few more weeks of school, right?”
“So let him go. Let him stay away, and the memory will fade. You didn’t do much. If you don’t do any more, it will be a memory he might treasure for years, and one he’ll eventually think he imagined. Just give him time. Stay away, and give him time.”
“Is two weeks enough time? He graduates soon, and then he’ll be home.”
“Get him his own apartment. Right away. The expense will be part of your punishment.”
“Yeah, okay. Look, I’m not that worried about Doug. I’m worried about me, about what else I might do. That I might try again. And I’m worried about Michael, that I’ve already destroyed him.”
“Stop being silly. You need to give Michael more credit. He’s stronger than that.”
“So why won’t he speak to me?”
“Because he’s probably as scared and torn as you are. I happen to know that he enjoyed it. He didn’t want to do it. He won’t do it again. But he liked it, and that scares him.”
Melanie was utterly silent on the other end of the phone. Mouse continued.
“It should have happened another way, maybe. It’s poison for both of you, the way it happened and the way it ended. And the way you’re both dealing with it, or rather, not dealing with it.”
Melanie stayed unusually silent. Mouse couldn’t remember ever getting in this many words and thoughts without interruption and correction or contradiction from her big sister.
“You haven’t destroyed anything, Mel. Can I tell you what I think you should do?”
Melanie listened, while Mouse told her. To Mouse’s surprise, Melanie agreed.
* * *
Mouse wasn’t entirely comfortable with all of this herself, even though she’d already decided that this had to be done, even before Melanie’s unexpected emotional collapse.
The thing was, Mouse had spent her entire life overshadowed by her big sister. She was enthralled by her, yes, but also bullied by her in the guise of care and guidance. She was frightened of her. And she was jealous of her.
That was the biggest problem. She was jealous of Melanie. Part of that jealousy was sheer, childish silliness. Melanie could drive a real car back when Mouse could only ride a bike. Melanie had a wedding when Mouse was too young to even kiss a boy. Melanie had growing children when Mouse was lucky to be getting dates.
And Mouse still hadn’t equaled her on that score.
Most of all, Mouse was jealous of her big sister’s relationship with Michael. Their brother had always been so much closer to Melanie than to Mouse. He was closer in age, height, distance, experiences, personality, everything. Mouse had always fought with him, keeping him at arms length. It was her own fault. But even if she hadn’t, he and Melanie were always too close.