I was dumbfounded; I told her I didn’t care about being married and having children with someone that would never mean to me what she did. I told her she was all I needed… I told her and I told her. We talked for days and weeks but she wouldn’t be moved. She went on about the difference in our ages and a hundred other reasons why it was the right time for me to find a new direction. Nothing I said had any effect.
By the spring I had found an apartment for myself. Even though I wasn’t going far, the day I moved out was rough for both of us. I didn’t understand why it had to be that way and nothing she said explained it away.
Our physical separation didn’t end our love life but it did curtail it. Sometimes I would spend the weekend with her and sometimes she would tell not to come over for a week. It was like being separated from a part of my soul.
I always thought she was wrong… wrong… wrong. I still do now. I went out with quite a few girls but couldn’t get serious with any of them, until Pearl. My mother realized what I was doing after about eighteen months and took matters into her own hands. She introduced me to Pearl who worked for a few of her friends.
My mother set me up in both senses. Pearl had come to the U.S. to escape a terrible home life. She needed to stay and my mother thought I needed a wife. We suited each other’s needs but it was more than that. She was an intelligent woman, about two years older than I. She wanted a family in a safe place and she was a loving person. My mother knew I would like her. I told my mother I wouldn’t live a lie with Pearl… figuring if I told Pearl about our relationship she’d head for the hills.
Mom made me compromise. I told Pearl I had a woman I saw sometimes and was not willing to give her up. I didn’t say who she was. She said she could accept that if I always came home and treated her well. I tried to. The wedding and decorations were white and it might as well have all been snow.
We all settled into a compromised way of living. I couldn’t decide if some is better than none when your entire being wants it all. I didn’t find it funny or ironic when Pearl said how nice it was that I was so concerned about my mother and visited her so often.
Neither my mother nor I could conceive of not having each other at all so we did make love, but not enough for me. I knew that there could never be a woman who would arouse me like my mother. She was much more passionate than Pearl and a lot ‘younger’ in her enjoyment of sex in all it’s variations. The comparison didn’t make my life easier.
I loved my mother but on some occasions my frustration led me to take it out on her in sex play that was rougher than it should have been. One time we met at a hotel not far from where I worked. I brought ropes. When we had played like that before we always used ‘safe words’ to signal if it was too much. I splayed her on her stomach and tied her to the four corners.
Usually we talked or role-played; that time I didn’t say a word. Things were not going well with pearl and I was angry. I reached under my mother’s breasts and pinched both of her nipples hard. I rammed myself into her pussy without the usual kisses and caresses. I bit her and slapped her ass. I fucked her. I had fucked her before but always while feeling love. Then I was only fucking her.