What Just Happened? Ep. 01What Just Happened? Ep. 01

Brunette

Series note: This is Episode 1 of the series, “What Just Happened?” It can be read as a standalone story as well. The plan is for this to be a four-episode series.

Author’s note: I’ve tried by best to make the spelling and sentence structure American. If something appears out of place, please forgive me. I’m British 😉 Anyway, remember to leave a comment after you’re done reading. Cheers!

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I’ll try to be as honest as possible.

What I saw yesterday is something I will never forget. Something that will remain etched on my memory for all eternity. And the fact that I don’t quite understand it makes writing about it all the more difficult … Excruciating, to say the least.

Frankly, it’s not that I don’t understand it — I mean, I do. I know what I saw. I just don’t know how react to it, properly. You get me?

Anyway. Enough of my ramblings. Let’s get right to it.

I’m eighteen years old and at the final stages of high school. Graduation is but a few months away. Last week I was with my best friend, Jay, sitting on the delineated curb in our school’s parking lot, waiting for my mom to come pick us up. Jay’s a white kid. I’m black. We’re like brothers.

I think the major reason for our strong fraternal relationship is we’ve lived in close proximity our whole life. That and Jay’s mom and my mom have been best friends since their high school days. Or maybe it’s because Jay’s an only child, like me, and somehow that pushed us to make up for our lack of siblings. So far it’s worked well.

Until yesterday.

My mom was late, hence why Jay and I were seated in the empty parking lot discussing girls. Jay has a crush on Livy Price, a blonde bimbo in our class. Livy’s a bitch. I don’t like her. I was trying to reason with Jay that going out with Livy was a bad idea. Mom arrived. She apologized for being late. She shouldn’t have. It wasn’t like we were going to yell at her or something.

Anyway, we got into the car and Mom drove off. She and Jay got to talking. They do that a lot. They have this way of pinging sentences and phrases at each other. It’s like watching two high school kids together. But that’s just my mom: a teenager trapped in the body of a thirty-something-year-old woman.

Jay’s mom works late more often than not, so he and I spend a lot of time together, either at his place, which is next door to mine, or at my place. We prefer his house, because of the privacy it offers. (We’re less likely to get caught smoking pot there).

The reason I began my recollection from last week is because it was around that time Jay adopted the curious habit of leaving me alone in his bedroom to run across the street for “stuff”. He never told me what “stuff” was, and I never asked. I did notice the exhaustion on his face when he returned, but I always brushed it aside as the effect of long distance sprinting. Wherever he disappeared to had to be pretty far, no doubt. He’d open up to me when urla escort he was ready, I thought.

Well, yesterday, I figured out his dirty, little secret by accident.

I was in his bedroom smoking pot. As expected, Jay decided it was time to run off. I didn’t question him. I reclined on his bed and got high. Minutes expired. I glanced out the window. From here I could see inside my kitchen. The lights were on. My mom was right in front of the sink. I remember laughing and thinking, man, if she knew I was getting high she would totally freak.

Then I spotted something weird about her comportment. Her face was screwed up, crumbled to bits like she was weeping. I had never seen my mom this melancholic, not since my dad bailed on us, so I was curious. What was she so upset about? I wasn’t shocked, not outright. Blame it on the weed.

Her hands gripped the edge of the sink and her body trembled. She looked so worn and tense and … elated? Yeah. Somewhere beneath her distorted expression simmered delight of some sort. I couldn’t quite understand it. Her torso was the only part of her body exposed to my line of vision.

Mom leaned forward a tad, slanting to the left, and propped her knee on the counter, shuddering. I sat straight. Something was wrong with this picture. For one, the thigh she just lifted was bare. Naked. What was my mom doing in the kitchen, dressed in only her work shirt? And why did she have that odd weepy look on her face?

The trembling didn’t stop. It got worse. Mom clutched the faucet, her body twisting and jerking. I didn’t hear it, but from the way her mouth opened I knew she was wailing. What the fuck was going on, I asked myself?

I should have ignored her then. I should have minded my own business and enjoyed my weed. They say the truth shall set you free. You know what I think? The truth doesn’t always set us free. Sometimes it traps us in impossible situations. Situations like the one I’m in.

I looked on, wondering, questioning, theorizing. Someone could be hurting my mom, and my reaction was to sit, observe and get high? No way. I decided to do something about it. I got up, my eyes still on her, and then I saw. And what I saw thumped my chest and threw me back on the bed. For a moment I forgot how to breathe. I just sat there, jaw hanging, watching in disbelief. I watched Jay rise from behind my mom, shirtless. I watched him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. I watched him lean on her, snake his hands under her armpits and rip her shirt open. Mom’s breasts popped out and bounced a little. Jay grabbed them, and then he was moving against her. Grinding. Kissing her neck. Her shoulders.

Nausea washed over me. White hot rage pulsed through my veins. Confusion pounded my brain. Countless emotions yanked me from all corners.

My mom. My best friend. My own brother.

Betrayal.

In one split second I was out of Jay’s house and bounding towards kemalpaşa escort mine. I sneaked around the other side and came to the backdoor that led into my kitchen.

The door has a long and wide transparent glass fitted into it. Funny thing about the glass is, from the inside, with the lights on, you can’t quite see what’s outside in the dark. But from the outside, everything inside is well exposed.

And what I was exposed to shocked the high out of me. The effects of the weed I had been smoking vanished, like I hadn’t smoked anything all day.

Jay’s hands still covered my mom’s bountiful tits, but this time around his hips moved with considerable vigour. Swift and hard. Mom reared her head and held on to the faucet for support, flipping her butt back and forth, up and down. It was embarrassing to watch. Disgusting, even.

It was also alluring in a strange way.

I wanted to look away. I wanted to burst in and yell at them. Beat the shit out of Jay.

I couldn’t … somehow.

I just knelt beside the door and stared. I had never seen my mom this way before, and I never thought I would. I don’t wake up every morning wondering when I’m finally going to see my mom naked and having sex. The sight of her right thigh angled atop the counter and her big, round ass quaking (and what an ass Mom has, my god) got me thinking things I shouldn’t be thinking as her son.

Jay neglected Mom’s breasts and veered his focus to her butt. I saw the raw hunger in his eyes intensify as he ogled her beating, clammy ass. His hands hovered above both boisterous butt cheeks, like he couldn’t decide what to do with them. Then his hands descended fast, slapping them. His fingers sank into them. He gripped, and he pounded away like a lunatic on steroids.

Mom seemed to love what Jay was doing. The crude, unadulterated gratification sluicing down her face said it all. She turned her head as much as possible to stare back at him, eyes urging … Mouth spewing soundless words. Her persuasive look compelled Jay to ramp up his speed. Exhaustion and contentment warped his face. His hands rubbed my mom’s butt then clutched her hips. He pummeled.

Relentless, Jay fucked my willing mom.

It must have been minutes, but it felt like I had squatted by the door for years. What revolted and puzzled me the most was how hard my dick grew while I peeped.

The ravenous, demanding look on Mom’s face transformed into something else — unbearable expectancy: something was about to happen, something so good it was almost painful to experience. Jay had that same look etched on his face.

Mom shut her eyes, bent her head toward the sink, and cried out. Jay titled his head to the ceiling, groaning and twitching. I thought he’d collapse on the floor from the way his knees wobbled.

They went at it for a while, Jay emptying himself into Mom, sweating and shaking. Then he retreated, dragging his flabby menderes escort cock out of her. Mom sank to the tiled floor, her back against the cupboard. Jay settled beside her. They cuddled, his cheek resting on her breast. Mom kissed his forehead and said something. She shifted her tired gaze to the door. To me. I flung myself away, my heart thundering.

No, she didn’t see me. She couldn’t, not through the glass.

In retrospect, I shouldn’t have been afraid of being spotted. I wasn’t the one who had committed a crime. I wasn’t the one who had done something forbidden, sordid. But at the time I felt that way, like I had invaded her privacy, which was fucking stupid.

I didn’t wait around to find out if Mom caught me. I picked myself up and ran back to Jay’s bedroom.

Jay returned. I saw the weariness in his eyes. The same weariness I had seen yesterday, the day before, right up till the start of last week. I realized that all this time Jay had been fucking my mom. He had lured me to his bedroom on the pretence of hanging out and ran off to fuck my mother. I wanted to kill him. I swear I wanted to rip his head from his neck. I wanted to smash his fucking face with his laptop. He saw I was pissed and asked what he had done, looking all innocent. Can you believe the nerve of this guy? I didn’t answer. I just left.

At home, Mom had composed herself. She asked me how everything had gone at Jay’s. So natural, the way she spoke, the way she said his name. There wasn’t the slightest hint he had fucked her only minutes ago, not in her eyes or her smile. Her gait was somewhat unsteady, but a million things could be responsible for that. She worked nine to five, and she was a mother to a teenager. If I hadn’t caught her I would have come to that very conclusion: she was exhausted from her usual work. I wouldn’t have thought she walked funny because she had been leaning against the kitchen counter and taking it from behind from her eighteen-year-old neighbor, her son’s best friend.

Fucking bitch.

I shrugged, answered her question, and went to my room.

All of this happened yesterday.

Now, remember I said earlier that I don’t know how to react to what I saw. It’s true. Here’s the thing: something similar happened today again. Jay left me in his bedroom as I anticipated. I waited for about five minutes then made my way through the kitchen door (which I had left open prior to that moment). They didn’t hear me coming. I made sure of that. In the living room, atop several couch seats placed on the floor, Mom lay on her back, her legs anchoring Jay’s waist, her arms wrapped around his neck. Jay’s hips thrashed. The disharmony of their feverish moans and groans filled the room.

I don’t know how to react, because I can’t interrupt them or confront them whenever the opportunity arises. I can’t seem to stop myself from sneaking up on them and watching, either. I simply don’t know what to do.

I’m about to go to bed now (once I’m done writing this). I can’t stop thinking about the two of them together. Worse, I can’t stop thinking what it would be like if it were me thrusting into my mom and not Jay. Appalled as I am at the thought, I find it fascinating. So fascinating I think I might masturbate to it like I did yesterday.

Fuck.

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