Mom said, “What are you talking about. I don’t sleepwalk.”
I was in it now. There are two schools of thought: one is, if you’ve dug yourself into a hole, stop digging. The other is, if you find yourself walking through hell, keep going. I had already dug my hole so deep that I was soon to be in hell. I kept going.
“Mom, you do sleepwalk. I don’t know for how long you’ve been doing it, but I’ve seen you several times since I’ve been home.”
Mom said, “No way. That’s not possible. I’d remember.”
I explained what I’d read on the internet but she was indignant that I’d think she wouldn’t have some clue. Then she decided to play it differently. “So, if I did sleepwalk, what do I do, when I’m doing it. Who brings me back to bed like the twins did tonight?”
I definitely didn’t want to go here but I had to keep going. “Dad has been your savior when he’s home and I have a couple of times when he’s not.” I hoped that she’d forget about the what do I do part of her questions, but she didn’t. It made sense to her that Dad would come and guide her back to bed and that I would if Dad wasn’t there. She asked again, “What do I do when I sleepwalk?”
I whined, “Come on Mom. You do stuff and you never remember the next morning.” She asked the question again wanting specifics. She wasn’t going to let this bone go and I said, “Okay. Okay. You have sex with whomever stops you and guides you back to bed.” I knew that wouldn’t go over well, so while she gathered herself to burst out laughing, I continued, “Seriously, Mom. That’s what you do. Every time that I’ve witnessed it. The twins witnessed it one night outside their room. First you fucked Dad in a standing doggy position pressed against the wall by the twin’s door. They heard the commotion and opened their door and watched. Then you pushed Dad against the opposite wall and lifted yourself onto his cock. Your always naked and Dad always catches up to with an erection, I guess because he knows he’s going to get sex from you. I’m not making this up Mom. Ask the twins tomorrow after their friends leave.
She was quiet for several moments and the dead air time was making me nervous. She finally said, “It’s not possible that I wouldn’t remember something like having sex in the hall.”
I was on a run then and I couldn’t shut up. “You give great blow jobs too. I’ve heard Dad say, “Maddy, why can’t you give blow jobs like that when you’re not sleepwalking.”
She said simply, “No way.”
I continued. “Do you remember this morning, when you came to take me back to your room. You said, “I’ve got to brush my teeth first because my mouth tastes like cum.” She didn’t respond, but I knew she remembered. “That was because Dad came in your mouth as you were on your knees sucking him off two feet from me in my bed. I watched the whole thing. Dad was so into the sex that he didn’t even look to see if I was awake.
Mom moved her hand to her face and said, “Oh my God. Way in the back of my mind I remember that. Oh my God. This is terrible.” She stepped back to my door and said, “Oh my God,” once more and hurried back to her room. I felt awful and I had left out her sleepwalking sex with me. I decided that at least that was a good move on my part. Lord knows, I’d fucked it up in every other way possible. At least Mom only had to deal with having sex with her own husband while she prowled the halls at night. From her reaction, she seemed least concerned with the fact that she was apparently doing these things and more concerned that she didn’t know and didn’t remember.