I asked her if we could go to her bedroom after dinner and didn't get an answer. After she put dinner in the oven, she poured yet another drink and passed out on the sofa again. I told her that I didn't care what she said. She was my mom and I would always love her. I just hoped I hadn't disappointed her or made her think I was disturbed. She said no, she would never think that. Growing up, I often got mixed signals. My mother would walk around the house nude when I was young, but stopped as I got older. I would often go in and talk to her while she was taking a bath and she would make no attempt to cover herself. As a boy, I found myself coming up with excuses to talk to her as she bathed.

I thought everything was OK when she turned and looked at me and asked, "Why were you fondling me in the kitchen last night?" I blushed and tried to say something, but she just cut me off and told me it was normal for young men to fantasize about their mothers; but that it simply wasn't acceptable. She asked me to stop thinking that way about her and definitely stop touching, fondling, or rubbing her private parts. With that she mixed herself a Bloody Mary, which was a change for her and added that she wanted to talk with me about "our situation" a bit later that day. She then called my grandmother (part of their Sunday morning ritual) and I just sat there in the kitchen listening, hoping she wouldn't tell about what happened last night, and she didn't. Then she called my aunt and they chatted for a while as she opened a bottle of wine and poured a glass. I listened in again and she said nothing. I did the well, and began unrolling the condom down my shaft and the well disappeared as I unrolled it down. Where did you learn to do that, she gasped. No ones ever done that to me before. Are you kidding? I've been thinking about this day for the past 7 years, I said. After another 7 years, I finally came up with a plan to find out how interested my mother was that would keep either one of us from being embarrassed or looking foolish.

I could hear her whispering, "No, we shouldn't be doing this. This is all wrong.. We need to stop now...." She explained that these were lubricated and that when I opened one the slippery side went out. I opened the box and tore one off. She grabbed for it and started to open it. She showed me the slippery side and the dry side. Then she used her thumb and showed me how to make a "well" with the tip so that it wouldn't burst inside a woman. She explained that she had one bust inside of her with a previous boyfriend and that thankfully she didn't get pregnant. Then she showed me how to roll it all the way down my penis and said it worked a lot better on erect penises. She went on to confess that she had her tubes tied shortly after that, but still demanded that her boyfriends used condoms the first few dates to avoid STDs. I reached for the one she used and she told me to get another one out and try it. When I stood up she asked what I was doing. It was midweek and I decided to wait until that Saturday. I had to work Saturday morning and by the time I got home she had probably already had two or three drinks. She was somewhat upset and hurt that day and had told me she found out that the man she was talking to at work and having lunch with was married. I waited until she was in the bathroom and got my bottle of Everclear out of hiding and added another shot or so, to the now lower bottle of vodka. When she fixed another drink she looked at her glass after she took the first sip. Once she rinsed all the shampoo out she noticed me. "Joe, what are you doing in here with me? You need to get out right now! Right now!" She looked at me for a moment hesitantly and then a smile spread across her face as she lifted her ass from the couch and allowed me to pull her suit down.

At that time, I was supposed to be deciding which university I wanted to attend. My parents had divorced years before and I was strongly leaning toward going to live with my dad and go to school there. My dad had remarried and my mom had been in a string of relationships with some real losers. She really didn't want me to go because I long before became the "man of the house", minus the sex. She really didn't want me to go away and pointed toward all the local universities, and she especially despised the thought of me moving into dad's place. We talked about it a lot that year and when I called my dad to ask for materials from the university in his town, she broke into tears and begged me to stay with her, arguing that the multiple local universities had much more to offer. As a bribe, she even started buying me Playboys and Penthouse Forums (which she enjoyed reading too), simply saying it was normal for me to look at them.

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She finished that drink and was going to start dinner and the alcohol hit her. I had been watching TV, and her, and heard her stumbling in the kitchen. I got up and saw her trying to cut up food for dinner. She was not standing steady, so I offered to help. She said the vodka really hit her, but it would go away in a few minutes: It didn't, in fact it got worse. I pleaded, "Mom, I saw the look in your eyes earlier and I know you want to have sex with me as much as I want sex with you. Please it will be our secret."

C'mon, Mom. We're both adults and we love each other. You always taught me that this is something that is only for people who love each other and I don't love anyone as much as I love you. She seemed to melt in my arms when I said that. As the years passed, however, I found myself fondly remembering that kiss and wishing I had made an effort to go further.She then admitted that despite how drunk she was, she got aroused too, but she said it just had to stop. Then she changed gears and wanted to make sure I knew how to used condoms.