Could I go through with this? This was a mother. This was my fallen friend’s mother. Paul, my friend, who I had grown up with, and went through high school with. My friend who had died five months earlier in an auto accident.
Divorced years earlier, she didn’t have anyone to help her with her grief. … And so she had turned to me, Paul’s best friend, to draw comfort immediately following the tragedy — to recollect the broken pieces of her lost relationship with him.
It began innocent enough with her and I looking through old pictures, or watching home movies centered around him, even going out to eat at restaurants they had frequented together. But her loneliness seemed to grow worse with every day. Soon, she was planning things to do, like going to the movies, cooking me dinner, watching television — things unrelated to Paul. Our relationship began to feel different. She no longer treated me just as Paul’s friend, but also as an equal.
From the time I was twelve until now, I have been attracted to Paul’s mom — her beauty, her graceful way of doing ordinary things, her no-frills pragmatism, her womanly curves… I had masturbated to so many women during these years, but she played the “starring role” most often in my mind’s pornographic imaginings.
Ever since Paul had died, she began giving me a hug every time I left her house, but the hugs began lasting longer… And after watching a popular movie on cable neither of us had seen — a movie with some gratuitous sex scenes — we both fell silent.
When the movie ended we made a few comments about the nonsexual parts of the movie’s plot, then I put my jacket on to go home. This time the goodbye hug was more full and deliberate, and she punctuated it by kissing my cheek. The feeling of being in a full embrace, feeling her large breasts pressed against me, the smell of her perfume, the feel of her lips against my cheek, all swirled in my head. While walking the three blocks home to my house, the scent of her perfume stayed with me. It was not the citrusy, sharp perfumes that girls my age seemed to wear, it was a complex fragrance that was mature and sophisticated, and seemed to define her as much as she defined it.
Tonight, she had asked me to come over to watch a movie she had rented. She had told me to let myself in, and I was sitting on the couch when she came in from her bedroom saying she had just taken a shower. She was wearing an all-black silk robe that came down to the mid-thigh area. She sat on the love seat, while I was on the main couch. She started some small talk while she pulled her hair back in a pony tail. And while she had her hands behind her head cinching the band around her hair, the robe fell partly open and I could see the side of her ample breast. When she finished, she patted the cushion next to her and I walked awkwardly over and sat next to her on the love seat.
When she started the movie, I knew right away that it was not a box office hit of any kind. The audio was very poor, and the quality of the video seemed not much better than that of a camcorder. When the title flashed across the screen, my first instinct was that they had mistakenly given her the wrong movie and I turned to look at her. When she didn’t look at me, and her face and neck reddened slightly — with no discernable change to her expression — I realized that no mistake had been made. It hit me in a wave: She wanted to watch a porno with me. A feeling of excitement, horny-ness, and fear all swelled up inside of me at once, making me feel dizzy and nauseous.