Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Title: Slippery Slope


Summary: Son snowbound with Mom.




Keywords:inc,fic,erotic,hot,sex







   My girlfriend, Dee, didn't like my Mom, said Mom was too bossy. 

   That's probably true. 

   Mom is a take charge lady.  She doesn't let decisions hang in the air.
She tells others what she wants, and she has a voice -"kind of sandy and
resonating -"that cuts across everyone else's.  She is decisive enough that
others tend to go along with her. 

   Dee is one of those girls who, like Mom, knows exactly what she wants,
but Dee needs to be polite.  She won't come out and demand things like Mom.
Dee acquiesces to other people, but she gets bitter about it later.  It's
annoying.

   Mom is a force.  She's on the tall side, about five feet eight, but she
seems taller.  One morning when I was fourteen, Mom told me that I had
grown taller than her.  I didn't believe it until that night when her
boyfriend confirmed it as Mom and I stood back-to-back.  Yet, even knowing
I was taller, I still felt as if I was always looking up to her.  I think a
lot of people felt that way.  The woman took command.  Every one of her
boyfriends over the years -"all of them that lasted long enough for me to
meet them -"were pushovers for her. 

   I remember sitting in the family room with Pete -"her longest lasting
and current boyfriend -"when I was back in high school.  Mom was upstairs
getting ready.  Pete -"he wasn't complaining -"talked to me about how Mom
almost always decided what to do when they went out together.

   "I think she asks me so that she can have something to compare her idea
with, you know?" Pete said.

   "Yeah?" 

   He nodded.  "She needs to confirm her own plans.  She needs my idea to
make sure hers is the better one, so she can shoot something down." 

   Hearing him talk about it, I realized right then that Pete was spot on.
Countless occasions jumped into my head where Mom asked what I thought,
considered it for a moment, and then quickly dismissed the idea.  I always
had the feeling she already knew what she was going to do.

   She didn't plan on me, though.  Mom had me when she was twenty years
old. I never knew my father.  Mom said, "Believe me, you'd be disappointed,
honey." My guess is that I am the result of some kind of one-night stand
-"probably drunken -"with someone, in sobriety, she dismissed as a loser. 

   Right out of high school, Mom told me she was a dancer.  I used to ask
her about it.  She'd always be vague, other than to tell me that she quit
dancing because of me.  By the time I was fifteen, I quit asking because I
thought I figured out her dancing. 

   She never admitted it -"and I never asked -"but I had a pretty good idea
that she had been a stripper.  I didn't have any hard evidence, just
speculation.  For starters, a female high-school graduate with no
professional dance training probably can't get on at the Boise Ballet. 
Also, I had this memory from when I was six or seven years old.

   Mom and I were playing hide and seek in the house.  It was my turn to
hide, so I ran upstairs to her bedroom.  Her closet had two double sliding
doors on opposite sides of the back wall.  Between the doors sat Mom's
dresser.  I went into one of the closets, sliding the door closed behind
me.

   I'd looked in her closet before, but what I'd never known was the space
inside spanned all the way through, between the two sets of doors.  So, I
crawled under the hanging clothes to hide in the middle area, on the other
side of the wall opposite Mom's dresser.

   At some point, Mom came in.  She opened both doors, didn't see me, and
left to seek me elsewhere in the house.

   When she slid open the door, some light came in.  A reflection caught my
attention.  Once Mom left and the heat was off, I reached up and touched
what I'd seen.  It felt like beads or crystals.  I crawled to the side,
slid open the door, and then went back.

   There must have been fifteen hangers with really strange clothes.  I
pulled the most interesting one off the hook, completely forgetting about
hide and seek.  I laid it across Mom's bed, amazed.

   I didn't really know what I was looking at, other than it was clothes
-"women's clothes.  There were two hangers, interconnected, one hanging off
the other.  The top hanger was a bra, I thought.  Maybe a swimsuit, my
little kid's mind figured.  Either way, it appeared to be made entirely of
diamonds or crystals.  On the lower part hung the matching bottoms.  They
seemed impossibly skimpy, even to my inexperienced eyes.

   There were other strange outfits in there, and while I was retrieving
the diamond outfit, I noticed several colorful wigs on the shelf above.  It
didn't matter.  I was transfixed by the sparkling ensemble before me.  I
glided my finger across the studded jewels. 

   Mom walked into the room while I had the bra in my hands, rubbing it
against my cheek.

   She shrieked, and I jumped backward.  She ran over to me, threw the
outfit back into the closet, and rolled the closet door shut.  I started
crying, and whatever anger she'd had all dissolved away.

   By the time I'd gotten the courage to go back and see those things
-"maybe a few months later -"they were all gone.

   When I was fifteen, something triggered that memory.  I can't remember
what it was.  Doesn't matter.  I knew enough to know those clothes weren't
sexy outfits a woman wore for her lover in the privacy of the bedroom. 
They were something else, something to be worn at an event, and I thought I
knew what kind. 

   I blocked it from my mind and never asked. 

   The disconcerting belief that Mom had been a stripper was also
buttressed by the fact that my friends all fucked with me about her body
and her looks throughout middle and high school.  I couldn't really
separate myself from the fact that she was my Mom, so I never saw it the
way they did. 

   From my perspective, she just took care of herself.  Her white-blonde
hair was thick and rich.  She almost always braided it into a bun or a long
pony-tail.  Her skin tanned well.  She worked out.  Her sleek legs had
feminine lines of muscle that rippled when she walked.  Her chest wasn't
crazy, but big -"she embarrassed the hell out of me when she wore anything
with a low neckline.

   She was a beautiful woman.  I could see how people would think that. 
Her smile made me want to keep her happy and laughing.  Her eyes, dark
brown like coffee, expressed warmth and affection.  She had a wonderfully
long neck that made her seem alert and eager.  Her posture was always very
proper, almost regal. 

   That was another thing Dee sometimes complained about -"how proper my
Mom was.  She never swore.  She never left the house without being made up
and dressed perfectly for whatever the occasion.  Dinner at home was rarely
informal and almost always in the dining room.  I remember eating at a
friend's house and being shocked to see the television on.  Mom would never
allow such a thing. 

   Manners were another big thing for Mom.  We had lessons all the time
when I was a kid.  When I complained, Mom always said, "You will not find a
lot of boys with good manners in prison.  Does that tell you anything,
honey?" 

   I always wondered what my Mom must have been like in those times before
I was born.  How could this formal, perfectly-mannered lady ever have been
a stripper?

   I hadn't a clue.

   All I understood was my Mom knew what she wanted, she didn't hesitate to
tell people what it was, and she was forceful and beautiful enough to
almost always get it.

   It didn't surprise me, then, when after working as an administrative
assistant for an attorney, she decided to do night school to get her
degree. Then she finished law school.  Then, she worked for a judge.  Then,
she became an arbitrator -"which is basically a judge, but for mediations
instead of criminal or civil trials.

   So, Mom ruled.  Literally.

   And her profession was proper, like her.

   She didn't smoke or get drunk all the time.  She didn't really have any
vices but one: Fridays.

   Mom loved Fridays.  The minute she could set her own schedule, she quit
working Fridays.  As the years passed, Fridays became a kind of ritual for
her.  When she woke, she drank coffee and read the news.  Then, she would
go to the gym and work out for hours -"and I do mean hours: three, minimum.
When she got home, she showered until all the hot water was gone, and then
she curled up in bed with HGTV on.  She'd watch her favorite shows, read a
book, or nap until the evening. 

   But, there was one strange aspect to her Friday ritual: she didn't eat
all day.

   It's true.  She fasted on Fridays.  She'd drink her coffee and water, of
course, but she wouldn't eat, not until dinner.  And, oh shit, what a
dinner she would have.

   Friday night was often date night for her, but on those rare occasions
when it wasn't, I got to see how she ate.

   Fuck.

   We're talking porterhouse steaks with loaded baked potatoes.  We're
talking clam chowder, lobster, and cheesecake for dessert.  We're talking a
full rack of barbecue ribs with coleslaw and sweet potato fries topped off
with pecan pie.  She cut loose.

   Saturday would arrive, and she slept in.  Things returned to normal.

   I knew not to screw up Mom's Fridays.

   ***

   During my sophomore year in college, I spent a Friday with her. 

   It wasn't planned.  I didn't really even realize it until it worked out
the way it did.

   I was commuting at Boise State, living at home with Mom.  I had classes
on Friday, but when final exams came around, my last one turned out to be
on a Thursday. 

   So, it was mid-December, and I was home with nothing to do on a Friday.

   I planned to just chill, but Mom was energized.

   "Come to the gym with me," she said, half suggesting, half demanding. 
She took a sip of coffee, hanging on to the morning paper with her other
hand and waiting for me to agree to her plan.

   "You want me to?"

   "It'll be fun."

   "Okay."

   Shortly before 9:00am, we left together in her black Four-Runner.  I
forgot my cell phone.

   I was out of my routine.  During the school year, I always grabbed the
phone from my nightstand on my way downstairs.  I'd grab a pop and a
granola bar, then head to school.

   That morning was different; I took my phone and went downstairs, but I
wasn't dressed and ready to go.  When I went back upstairs to change into
workout gear, I left my phone in the kitchen.  I didn't think to grab it on
my way out the door.

   The air was weirdly calm that morning.  Outside, there wasn't even the
trace of a breeze.

   It was also unseasonably cold.  Boise is high desert.  It may be pretty
far north for America, but the climate is mild.  You get two bad months
-"mid-December to mid-February.  During those months, we get this thing
called "inversion" because we're in a valley.  So, during inversion, you
never see the sun and cold air just gets trapped by the mountains.  Other
than those times, it is clear, sunny, and comfortable.  Summers can be
downright hot -"100's, no problem.

   That morning, the chill in the air was deep.  It was the first truly
frigid day of the season.  Between that and the stillness, it felt like the
whole city lay frozen, waiting for something to happen.

   It had been a dry fall, so there wasn't a trace of ice, and the roads
were fine.  The drive took us almost twenty minutes because we lived in a
new development in the foothills north of town.  The only notable thing on
our trip was the fact that there seemed to be hardly any cars about.  As we
walked into the gym, I saw a snowflake on the sleeve of my coat.

   Mom's workout was something else.  For the first hour, she jogged around
the mini-track and then swam laps.  I only jogged, not having brought my
swimsuit.  Out the windows, we watched the snowflakes come down, and it was
beautiful.  Once Mom left for the pool, I found an elliptical and watched
ESPN. 

   Mom joined me after her swim.

   "Look at this snow," she remarked.

   I hadn't even glanced away from the television.  When I did, I slowed
down. 

   Geez. 

   Visibility was about 20 yards out those windows.  Fat snowflakes
obscured the rest of the world.

   "No wonder this place is empty," she added.

   "You worried?  Should we go?" I asked.

   "No way.  I'm not even close to being finished," she responded.  "Let's
go lift."

   So, we lifted weights, The snow kept falling, if anything, more
intensely.  When it hit the ground, it wasn't immediately melting anymore;
it accumulated.

   After close to forty-five minutes of lifting, we drank some water, and
Mom invited me to her spinning group, which started at 11:15am. 

   The class was in a room filled with spinning cycles.  There were no
windows, just a big flatscreen that showed us, video-game style, our route.
By the time it started, there were only five of us spinning, including the
instructor.  There must have been fifteen empty cycles.

   "Is this place usually full?" I asked Mom.

   "Yes.  I hadn't planned on inviting you until I saw how few people were
here this morning.  I didn't think you'd be able to get a bike."

   The instructor said something about how brave we were for coming out in
the blizzard.

   "It's a blizzard?" I asked the instructor.

   She looked at me strangely, saying, "Well...yes.  You didn't know?"

   I shook my head.

   "We're supposed to get six to ten inches.  Crazy, right?"

   Shit.  Mom and I glanced at each other.  She waved it off, and away we
went.  It was a forty minute ride, and it sucked.

   Mom pushed herself, her face set and determined.  Every few minutes, she
would catch my attention as she wiped her face with a towel or grabbed a
drink from her bottle.  She worked hard, but it didn't seem too challenging
for her.

   I, on the other hand, was doing everything in my power to keep the wheel
spinning.  Huffing, gasping, and feeling like my heart was going to
explode, I refused to stop.

   When I stepped off the bike, I lurched forward because my legs were so
used to churning.

   Mom laughed.  "Newbie," she said.

   Normally, Mom would do a short yoga routine for her cool down, but when
she saw the streets out the window, she canceled that plan.

   "Let's just go home," she said.  "Let me grab my things." She left for
the locker area.

   I waited for her in the lobby, and my eyes were glued to the windows.

   Fuck me.  This was downtown Boise on a Friday at noon, and I only saw
about five cars.  The streets ought to have been humming with lunch
traffic. Plus, it was clear that the drivers struggled.

   Downtown Boise is flat, but these cars spun and slid like they were on
muddy hillsides.

   When Mom appeared, I asked her for the keys and told her to wait while
to got the car cleared of snow and warmed up.  She didn't object.  It was
only proper for her son to do such a task.

   The phrase "witch tits" burst from me when I felt the full brunt of the
snow and wind.  I slipped a few times running to the car.  Mom hadn't
packed her ice scraper, so I cleared the drifts on the windows with my
arms. Then, I climbed in and started it up.

   Freezing my ass off, I decided there was no way I was going to wait
until the car warmed up and the windows defrosted.  I ran back to the gym.

   When Mom saw me, she laughed.  "You look like Jack Frost!"

   I turned to the mirror in the lobby and saw myself.  My face was pink. A
thin layer of snow completely covered everything else.  I started laughing,
too. 

   As we waited for the car to get warm, the lobby attendant told us how he
saw four accidents on the way in just a few minutes ago, and that he only
traveled from the apartments at Tenth and Main Street -"just eight blocks
away.

   He called for us to be careful as we walked out the door.

   Mom gasped, "Ah!" when the cold hit her.  We jogged to the car.  She
wanted to drive.  I opened the door for her and then went around to the
passenger side.  She put the car in 4-Low, and we left.

   The car performed really well until we left the plain-like downtown for
the rolling, curving foothills.  There, we felt the back-end slide out from
us a few times on turns. 

   We were just four miles or so from our development when Mom went around
a left-hand curve on a ridge that threw our back end out from us.  I felt
Mom gun the engine and throw the wheel the other way to save it, but it
only spun us more.

   "Shoot!" she cursed.

   "Woah!" I hollered, watching the world carousel around us.

   As our front-end spun through 180 degrees and beyond, I felt the car
drop off the road's narrow shoulder.  I figured it would stop us.  In the
foothills, the terrain is native grasses surrounded by jagged pebbles,
rocks, and a few scattered boulders.

   We didn't stop.  The front end came around, almost to 360 degrees, but
we were half on and half off the road, with my side leaning down the slope.
The car stopped for a brief moment, and then the front end began to slip
down.

   "Oh.  Oh, shoot," Mom said. 

   "Reverse?" I suggested.  "Mom, reverse."

   The hill went down at an obscene angle from my point of view.  It must
have been a thirty or forty-yard drop at what seemed like at least 45
degrees.  It was probably less, but looking at it?  Shit. 

   There were no trees, but several bushes and a few large boulders, one of
which lay directly in our path.  Mom threw it in reverse, but it was too
late. 

   Down the hill toward the gully we went.

   Mom screamed, "I'm sorry!"

   "Boulder.  Boulder!  Boulder!!  Hold on!" I yelled.

   We were halfway down the hill, picking up speed.  The dense grasses,
long and crunchy at this time of year, combined with thick pebbles and
coarse gravel under the tires did not slow us down.

   There would be no avoiding that boulder.  Above the snow line, a good
foot or so remained exposed.  It sloped up to a jagged point like a mini
Sawtooth mountain.  Mom pushed hard against the steering wheel.  I threw my
hands out toward the dashboard.

   We hit it on my side -"the right front tire striking it dead on,
rocketing me from my seat and throwing the car into a spin.

   Mom screamed.

   My head hit the roof.  "Ah, shit!" I said.

   The car swung halfway around, and we slid backward the rest of the way.
We came to a stop when the back end mowed down a thick bush.

   Mom's knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

   "You okay, Mom?"

   "I'm okay.  I'm fine.  You?" She let go of the wheel and turned to me.

   "Head's a little sore, but I'm good."

   "Do you know how lucky we are?" she asked.

   "Uh-huh.  We could have flipped."

   "That rock should have flipped us."

   "I know."

   "We could be dead," she said.

   I nodded, looking at her.

   "I went too fast.  Oh, honey, I'm so sorry..."

   "Mom.  No.  It could've happened to anyone.  You did great."

   "You think?"

   I nodded.

   "Call the police, honey, will you?"

   I reached into my coat pocket.  Then the other one.  Then the inside
pocket.  Then the pockets of my sweatpants.  I scanned the area between my
seat and the door.  I checked between my seat and the little storage
console between us.  Nothing.

   "What the matter?" she asked.  "Can't find it?"

   I shook my head.  Then I knew.  I saw the phone in my mind's eye.  "No.
Damn it!  I left it in the kitchen."

   "There's no need to curse," she said, reaching into her own pocket. 
Then she checked another.  Then another.  "Wait a minute," she said,
pushing her butt up and checking the seat.  She grabbed her purse from the
floor in front of the console, digging and searching. 

   "Oh, no, no, no," she muttered.  She frantically dug through her purse.
"No!  I must have left it back in the gym!  Shoot!" She threw her purse
back to the floor angrily.  After a few calming breaths, Mom turned to me.
"It was when we decided to leave.  I always check it after spinning, and
then leave it when I do yoga."

   I sighed, nodding.

   We stared at each other for a moment.

   "Can you start it?" I asked.

   Mom reached for the key and then stopped.  "It's already running."

   "Oh," I said.  I couldn't hear it.

   "You're not suggesting that I try to drive up that hill," she said,
pointing up the steep snowy bank toward the street.

   "No.  Radio."

   "Ah," she said, reaching for the button.  We scanned channels until we
found a weather report.  It didn't take long.

   What we learned was that the blizzard would continue through the night,
ending sometime the next morning.

   "Did you know about this?" I asked.

   "The blizzard?"

   I nodded.

   "No," she said.  "I mean, I heard we were going to get some snow, but
that was a few days ago when I checked.  I had no idea it was going to be
like this." She gestured out the windshield to the hurricane of fat
snowflakes.  "You?"

   I shook my head.  "How are we on fuel?" I asked.

   "Just under half," she responded.  "Why?  Do you think I should shut it
off?  Save gas?"

   "No," I said, "but, I think I should get out, go up there, flag down a
car."

   Mom stared at me a moment, and then said, "I was thinking the same
thing."

   "No phones.  It's that or walk home."

   "Absolutely not.  No.  You cannot walk home.  In this cold?  I forbid
it."

   "I know.  I won't, Mom," I said.  I looked around the back seat.  "Have
you got any extra cold weather gear?  Anything?"

   She turned.  "Just the blanket.  Do you want to take it?"

   I shook my head.  "No.  I don't want it to get wet in case..."

   We stared at one another.

   I finished, "...in case we have to be out here for too long."

   She searched my eyes.  "You don't think..."

   "I don't know." 

   I drew in a deep breath and started to tuck, zip, and bundle myself up.
I was wearing sweatpants with shorts and underwear beneath.  I wore
athletic socks and tennis shoes.  On top, my tee-shirt was still soaking
from the workout.  Over that, I had on a thick hoodie and my winter coat.
No gloves.  My hoodie would have to be my hat.  I pulled it over my head
and drew the strings tight, securing them with a knot.  I turned to Mom.

   "Ready?" she asked.

   I nodded, and then I pulled the handle and jumped out.

   My shoes vanished in the snow, which rose up to my shins. 

   The right front tire was dead flat.  Otherwise, the car didn't look too
bad.

   I turned and looked up the hill.

   Shit, it was cold.  Sharp cold.  My face felt tight, like the slightest
touch might slice my cheek open. 

   I trudged upward, and within a few steps, my feet slid from under me. 
My bare hands plunged into the frigid powder to catch my fall.

   I cursed, yanking my hands up and putting my knees down.  I rose, cursed
again, and began a methodical and careful ascent.

   The boulder that had rocked and spun us looked untouched as I passed
it. 

   I followed our tracks back up the hill, but they were rapidly
disappearing from the ongoing snowfall.  The only way to make progress was
by walking with my feet herring-boned outward for traction.  It took about
three minutes to go about forty yards. 

   At the top, my body was shaking from the cold, despite my exertion.  I
pulled my arms through my sleeves and rubbed my hands together.  I ran in
place for a minute.

   There were no other tracks on the road, inbound or out, and ours, like
on the hillside, were almost invisible.  Looking around, I decided to cross
over to the inside of the curve -"to be safe in case the next car to come
around spun out, too.

   Fuck, the cold hurt.  I couldn't feel my nose.  I started jumping and
jogging.

   No one came.

   Every minute was an eternity on that frozen, windblown road.  At some
point, I quit moving and just shivered, not even bothering to look for a
car.

   Later, I began to feel like I wanted just to sit down, and I knew I had
to get the fuck out of there.  Get back to the car.

   But, my feet didn't want to move.  Each step was a conscious, forced
decision.  I made it across the road, but on my first step down the
declivity, I slipped, landed hard, and began rolling down.  Snow shot up,
inside my tee shirt.  It caked on my face and in my ears inside the hoodie.

   Throwing my arms out, I slowed and, finally, stopped the roll. 

   I sat up and looked for the car.  It was almost invisible with snow
except for the windshield, which was completely fogged in.

   Staggering to my feet, I inched down the hill, feeling the snow melt
against my body and trickle down over bare skin.  I didn't even care.  All
that mattered was the warmth of the car.

   I opened the door and crawled in.  It took some time.

   "Shut the door, honey," Mom urged.  She was searching in her purse.

   I twisted my body toward the door, hooked my numb fingers over the
handle, and pulled the thing shut.  It took my last ounce of energy to do
it.

   Still digging, Mom said, "Tell me you found someone."

   I turned to her, and it was then she finally looked up at me Her eyes
widened when she saw my face.  She took in the rest of me, and then
commanded, "Get in the back right now.  Take off those clothes.  Oh, honey!
Oh, my word!  Get that blanket around you."

   Shivering, I said, "I'm not moving." I slurred the three words, but she
understood.

   She disappeared into the back seat.

   I turned the heat to full blast, groaning at the feel of the warmth on
my fingers. 

   I sat there, thawing for a few minutes before I felt how wet my socks
and shoes had become. 

   Mom called to me, and I turned around.  She had lowered the second-row
seats, creating a square-shaped flat space about six feet long and four
feet wide.  "Come back here, get those wet clothes off and get under this
blanket, honey.  Now."

   We traded spots.  She reached back from the front seat to take my
clothes as I pulled them off.  She set them on the dashboard over the
vents. I took off everything except my underwear and shorts.  Then, I
curled under the blanket and shivered uncontrollably.

   "Ready to talk?" she asked.

   I mumbled a yes.

   "Did you see anyone?"

   "N -"no.  Not a car.  Not ev -"even another s -"set of tracks, going
either way."

   "Oh, no," she said.  "Well, just get warmed up, honey.  That's all that
matters now."

   "Can't," I began, "Can't stop sh -"shivering."

   I glanced up at her.  All compassion and motherly affection in her eyes,
it wasn't but a moment before she climbed into the back beside me, drew the
blanket over the both of us, and began rubbing me forcefully with both
hands.

   "Oh, honey, your body is freezing."

   I mumbled something.

   She quit rubbing.  She climbed on top of me, wrapping me in her arms and
legs.  I was on my stomach, and I could feel the shapes and contours of her
body on my bare skin.  Her hands slid up and down my sides, and her legs
churned over mine as if she were on a horizontal stair-stepper machine. 
She went for a few minutes.

   "Better?" she asked.

   "Little bit."

   "Turn over," she said, pushing herself to her hands and knees.  There
was not a great deal of overhead clearance in the back of her Four-Runner,
but we managed.  She laid on top of me and resumed her rough rubbing.

   With the heat on full blast and Mom's unrelenting buffing, I very, very
slowly thawed out.

   Mom must have exhausted herself from the effort because the insistent
pressure of her hands and legs had faded into a slow massage with just her
hands along my sides.  Her face was on my bare chest, and I felt the
silkiness of her ponytail on my arm.  Moms soft hands glided up my arms and
over my shoulders, then slid down onto my chest.  She repositioned her arms
and slid her fingers over the sides of my thighs, down and up.  On the way
up, her hands slid under my shorts until they touched my underwear, then
drew away.

   She did it again, starting on my arms and finishing at the tops of my
thighs.

   On the second pass, I noticed how her breasts squashed against my tummy.
I hugged her body close to mine.  "Thanks, Mom."

   "Better now?"

   "Yeah."

   She did a third pass, but I stopped her.  I slid out from under her,
gently setting her beside me.  I had been getting an erection. 

   Fuck me.  What the fuck?  From my fucking Mom?

   "Something the matter, honey?"

   "No, no.  I'm way better.  Thanks."

   She rolled to her side, facing away from me.  After a brief silence, she
asked, "Honey, what are we going to do?"

   I knew, then, this situation alarmed her.  She was the take-charge
woman, the judge.  She didn't sound like she was asking me in order to
shoot down my idea.  This was different.

   But, I put that aside and considered her question.  I said, "There's no
way we can walk home in this.  It would take hours.  We don't have any snow
gear.  Even if one of us put on -"well, no, it would have to be you -"even
if you put on all my clothes, plus yours, there's no way to make it."

   "I'm so sorry, honey."

   "Mom, it isn't your fault.  Would've happened to anyone.  Me, included.
I mean, at least the car still runs.  We're not upside down."

   "Am I right in thinking the snow is covering up the tracks -"our spin
out up there?"

   "Yeah.  No one would see it."

   "What do you think we should do?"

   I thought about it for a moment.  Then, I asked, "Did we pass Shadow
Ridge Road?"

   She nodded.  "Half a mile back."

   "I could walk back..."

   She interrupted, "Honey, Shadow Ridge is at least three miles down that
road."

   "Oh." I hadn't known.  She'd considered buying a home there before she
settled on building ours in Quail Valley.  "What about that little farm
store?"

   "At least two miles back," Mom said.  "And they've got strange hours.  I
really don't think they would be open, especially in this."

   I rubbed my hands together, thinking.

   Mom said, "Home is the only way we could possibly go from here, and it's
three and a half miles, minimum.  Probably more like four.  How far do you
think we could get on foot?"

   "In this?" I considered it.  "It's probably less about distance and more
about time."

   "What do you mean?"

   I said, "A person could maybe last thirty or forty-five minutes out
there."

   "How far could you get?"

   "Jogging through that stuff?  Maybe two miles or so."

   Mom sighed, shaking her head.

   I said, "Maybe there's something we could put up there by the street.  I
don't know.  Something that a car driving by might see and know there's a
problem."

   "You're not going back out there.  I can go."

   "No, Mom.  I'm going."

   "What?  Why?  It's my turn."

   "Mom, you haven't..." I didn't finish because I realized at that moment
that bringing it up might be worse.

   She finished for me.  "Eaten.  No.  Not since dinner last night."

   "You okay?"

   She rolled to face me.  A moment passed, and then she said, "For now."

   I nodded.  "Anyways, I'll go.  You save your strength."

   "Well, you're not going until your clothes are all dried out."

   "Believe me, I don't want to go back out there.  It sucks." 

   She touched my face and said, "My poor honey."

   "Time is it?" I asked, not really feeling like getting up and looking.

   "One thirty or so, I think."

   I didn't say anything.  I laid there without moving, and soon, I felt
completely exhausted.  I heard Mom speak, but I don't know what she said. I
mumbled a response of some kind then fell asleep.

   ***

   When I awakened, Mom's body nestled into mine, her butt against my
crotch.  I had an angry boner, and it was riding up her ass.  Immediately,
I drew back from her, and she stirred.

   This time, my erection didn't bother me like before.  I knew it was one
of those automatic sleep boners.  Didn't have anything to do with her.

   Better not have, I thought.

   Looking around, I saw that it was still light out.  The clock read
4:15. 

   The fuel gauge was nearing one-quarter tank.

   "Shit," I said.

   "Huh?  What?  What is it, honey?" Mom turned to me.

   "Getting lower on gas."

   "Please don't curse," she said.  The, she looked at the gauge.  "Should
we shut it off?"

   I thought about it.  "Maybe."

   "But, no, we need to put something out first -"like you said.  Then
you'll need to warm up.  Let's leave it on for now," she suggested.

   I nodded.  "Maybe sooner than later I should go.  Anyone working might
be heading home soon."

   Mom didn't speak.  She stared at me for a moment, and then said, "Honey,
I'm not sure it's worth it -"putting up something."

   "Why not?"

   "The road.  That road leads to our development, and not really anywhere
else -"oh, the old quarry, I suppose, but no one goes there.  There are
only six homes in Quail Valley, and that includes ours.  I just...I don't
think it's worth you getting cold again." 

   "What else can we do, though?"

   "I hate to say this, but I think we should stay in the car, conserve
gas, and wait out the storm.  It'll end tomorrow, and the radio says the
temperature will shoot up to the low thirties by the tomorrow afternoon. 
We could walk it then."

   "Maybe.  But, Mom, there's going to be snowplows.  Emergency vehicles.
Somebody's going to check out Quail Valley.  A cop.  Somebody."

   "Maybe."

   "Let's at least see if we have anything to use."

   She agreed.  She went up front, and I dug around in the back. 
Eventually, I found four orange plastic road emergency triangles in a small
storage bin where the spare tire tools were located.

   "These," I said.

   "Will the snow be too deep?"

   I shrugged.  "Better than nothing."

   She nodded.

   My clothes were not yet dry, but I put them on.  Moving back to the
passenger seat, I took a few deep breaths, steeling myself for what I knew
was coming.  Then, I had an idea.  "Mom, can I have your socks for my
hands?"

   "Sure," she said, and she slipped off her shoes, tugged each sock free,
and handed them to me.  "What about something for your face?" she asked. 
Before I could respond, she said, "Wait.  Here." She took off her coat and
handed it to me. 

   I held it up, considering how I might use it.  Then, I tied the sleeves
behind my head so that the back collar was just below my eyes.  The knot
didn't hold; the material was just too slick. 

   "Let me," Mom said. 

   I turned around for her. 

   She tried tying it -"nothing.  "There's not enough for a double knot."

   "Forget it, Mom."

   "No.  No.  You need something." She seemed to consider an idea for a
second, and then she pulled her shirt over her head and off.  All that
remained was her sports bra.

   "What are...?" I glanced at her breasts, and then her bare stomach.  The
fuck am I doing?  I handed her coat back, turning away.

   She gave me the shirt, saying, "Wrap it around your face." She took the
coat and put it back on.

   I tied her shirt over my face.  Then, I reached for the door.

   "Wait," Mom said.  She handed her water bottle to me, lid off.  "Fill it
with snow.  We need drinking water."

   I nodded.

   As quickly as I could, I opened the door and scooped snow into the
bottle.  Closing the door, I handed it to her. 

   She screwed the lid on and set it on the dashboard. 

   "I'm going."

   She nodded.

   Road triangles in hand, I threw open the door and bolted out.

   The ascent was easier this time, but it was colder and gustier.  At the
top, there was still no sign of any other cars having passed by.

   I took one of the triangles and set it down.  It vanished under the
snow. The shit was too deep.

   I needed to clear off a space.  A stretch of about fifty or sixty feet,
I thought, ought to do it.  Maybe a foot or two wide.  So, I began
shuffling and drawing my feet across the snow to plow it off.  Back and
forth I went, clearing it as best I could. 

   My body began shivering again. 

   It wasn't working, my method.  I got down on my hands and knees and
pushed the snow with my arm, dragging it along the path I wanted to use for
the markers.  It took longer, but it was more effective.

   This was taking way too long.  Mom, I thought, was probably getting
worried.

   Fuck it.  I needed to finish.  I kept plowing that snow.  There was just
so fucking much.

   It must have taken me near fifteen minutes before I was able to set out
the triangles.  They each had a little folded-up stand that my fingers,
numb and unresponsive, could only barely deploy.  I set them in a line,
pointed from the side of the road, toward the curve, and with the last one
over the side, each about 20 feet apart.

   Good enough. 

   Colder than I've ever been in my life, I set off back down that hill.

   When I neared the car, I could see Mom's hand frantically rubbing
circles inside the windshield to help her see out.  Her door opened, and I
heard her yell for me.

   I called back, heading straight for her door.  There was no way I would
be able to open a car door on my own.

   She made space and helped me inside.

   "Oh, no!  Oh, honey!  Get in the back.  Here, let me help you."

   Somehow I made it into the back.  Mom threw the blanket over me and
began to reach under and pull off the snowy clothes.  She took off
everything except for my underwear.  She stripped off her own coat, slid
under the blanket, and laid on me, rubbing furiously.

   "Getting warmer, honey?" she asked.

   I didn't respond.

   "Don't talk.  Just be still.  I've got you." 

   I felt her climb off me, and a few moments later her warm bare legs
hugged my own.  She had removed her yoga pants.  She slid her body along
mine. 

   I was too cold to think about how much like fucking it must have looked.

   After a few minutes, she put me on my side.  She laid on hers, facing
me. She took my hands and put them between her thighs.  Her body down there
was a furnace, and my hands felt better almost instantly.

   She used her own hands to rub my chest, stomach, and shoulders.

   After a minute or two, she felt my face and said, "Oh, my goodness!"

   She pulled my face to her bra, rubbing my ears, neck, and head gently. I
kept my hands inside her thighs.

   A few minutes passed, and then Mom said, "Now, your feet, honey." She
tucked the blanket around my chest and head.  The car lurched as she slid
down.  She put my feet between her thighs with a little "Ah!  Cold." Then,
she hugged my legs, kneading the backs and fronts of my thighs.  I could
feel her forehead against the front of my underwear.

   I was improving enough to begin to feel uncomfortable.

   "Mom," I began.

   "Shush, honey.  You're still cold.  Let me warm you up."

   She hugged my legs tighter, and her forehead pressed into my balls. 

   I took in a breath.  No.  Fuck.  I pinched my face into a grimace.  No.
Fuck, no. 

   It didn't matter.  I was getting a boner.

   "Mom, let me just..."

   "Be still, honey."

   Her fingers slid over my butt and back down.  They slid over the sides
of my legs to the front.  Massaging, Mom's hands worked up my thighs to my
underwear.  Her fingertip danced just under the elastic before sliding down
toward my knees and calves.

   My cock grew against her forehead.  It was getting way too obvious.

   That was it.  Enough.  I rolled away from her, giving her my back.

   She didn't move or speak for several seconds.  "I didn't mean to -"to
embarrass you, honey," she said, quietly.

   "Yeah, no.  I know," I said.  "Thanks for -"for helping get me warm
again.  It really helps."

   She snuggled against me, and her light fingers stroked my chest.  "Well,
I can't let you freeze."

   I felt her breasts against my back.  They were full and firm.

   Pinching my eyes shut.  I tried to block it all out -"her tits, those
smooth feminine legs against mine, the delicate caress of her fingers on my
stomach.

   My cock stretched my underwear.  It was like a rocket had been launched
inside of it.  I reached down and adjusted my thrumming boner.  It was so
hard that it wouldn't lean left or right.  Nothing was comfortable, so I
drew it up against my stomach, letting the elastic waistband pin the shaft
to my belly.

   I needed to think about something else.  Rescue or something.  I asked,
"Mom, when do you think Pete will get concerned, come looking for us?"

   "He's in Coeur D'Alene visiting his parents."

   "Oh," I muttered.  "But, won't he call?"

   Mom's hands stopped on my chest.  I heard her breathe, and she said, "He
may have called already.  Texted, maybe.  For sure, he'll call tonight.  I
guess it's possible if he hasn't heard back from me by, say ten or so, he
may try to reach you."

   "Yeah?"

   "If he can't reach you, he might get worried and send someone to the
house," she said.  "But, that's a best-case scenario.  I think it more
likely he wouldn't start worrying until tomorrow sometime."

   Her hands resumed, and she changed her touches.  Instead of light
circles, she started long strokes up and down my chest.

   Oh, shit.  Wait. 

   Before I could stop her, those fingers crossed down my stomach and her
pinky finger bumped into the tip of my cock.  I felt Mom flinch, and her
hand slid back up to my chest.

   "That's -"I'm good now, Mom.  Thanks."

   She said, "I should try to dry out these wet clothes."

   I made to sit up and help.

   "No, you rest.  I've got this," she insisted. 

   I laid on my back under the blanket as she slid out.  Her body -"in
panties and a sports bra, only -"was fully displayed.  On all fours, she
spun around toward the pile of wet clothes, presenting her ass to me. 

   Instantly I covered my face, silently mouthing, "Oh, fuck," at what I'd
seen.  She had an incredible body.

   I rolled away from her, knowing I would miss out on more astounding
views of her, particularly when she crawled over into the front seat.

   Fuck it.  I didn't want to see.

   "Ah, shoot," Mom spat.

   My mind replayed the image of her ass, over and again.  I fought against
it, responding, "What's wrong, Mom?"

   "In my haste to rewarm you, I left my pants in the pile of snowy
clothes, and now they're wet."

   "Oh.  Sorry."

   "Never mind, honey."

   When I felt her climb into the front, I turned over.  She sat in the
driver's seat, arranging clothes along the dashboard over the defroster.

   "How's gas?" I asked.

   She stopped, looking.  "Right above one-quarter."

   "Okay."

   "Did the water bottle thaw?"

   She picked it up and shook it.  "Yes.  Do you care if I drink it?  I'm
absolutely..." She didn't finish.  She was going to say how starving she
was, I knew it.

   "Go ahead, Mom.  I'll scoop some more snow when you're done."

   She drained it in one pull.  When her lips smacked off the nipple, she
gasped and said, "Oh, my gosh, that was good.  Oh!"

   My erection having subsided, I climbed up beside her, took the bottle,
and did another rapid snow scoop.  When I handed it back to her, I glanced
and saw her nipples bulging against the fabric of her sports bra.  I turned
away.

   "Okay, now I'm freezing again.  Come in back with me?" she asked.

   "Sure."

   She set the bottle on the dashboard, and then went first into the back.
I stared straight ahead at the windshield, but in my peripheral vision, the
smooth, tanned skin of her leg and hip passed inches from my face. 

   For a fleeting instant, I imagined what I would have seen had I just
turned and watched -"her beautiful ass, bent over and aimed at me, her
sleek legs spreading wide as she threw one at a time over into the back.

   Stop, dammit!  Enough, I commanded myself.

   "Come on, honey!"

   I climbed back with her, and she let me under the blanket.  Instantly
she clung to me, her head just underneath mine, each of us with an arm
around the other.

   "Need me to do anything to warm you up, Mom?"

   "Just be close." She pulled her body close to mine, nudging her leg
against mine until I spread them apart so she could rest her thigh between
mine.  I gently rubbed her back.  She fell asleep.

   Flash images of me touching Mom while she slept -"softly rolling my palm
over her breasts, slipping my fingers under the elastic of her panties
-"zipped through my mind.

   No.

   The fuck was wrong with me?

   What had changed?

   Never in my life had visions like these entered my mind.  Never.  Sure,
my friends kidded me about having a hot Mom or whatever.  Sure, I had
noticed that she was, in fact, lovely and fit -"well proportioned.

   So when did lovely become hot?  How did fit become sexy?

   Fuck that, I decided.  I needed to treat her with respect and honor, and
that included how I thought about her.

   I looked at her face, focusing on repeating the words to myself: this is
my Mom, this is my Mom...

   She made a sound, a tiny moaning hum.  Her body twitched. 

   Dreaming, I thought, as her breathing resumed a regular rhythm.  Moments
later, her body jerked, and she muttered, "Please." Her voice broke, and
the words were filled with sadness.  It wasn't but a few seconds after this
utterance that Mom made a new sound. 

   At first, I thought it was the beginning of laughter.  It was a series
of low, almost coughing sounds -"but softer, not with the hard edge of a
cough.  Then her face pinched together and she sobbed.  She groaned
something, and the only word that came across clearly was "food." Next
thing, she drew her hand from my side, and shortly after, she resumed a
peaceful sleep.

   Very carefully, I crawled to the front.  None of the clothes were dry,
yet.  The fuel needle was resting along the bottom of the one-quarter line.
The water in Mom's bottle was half ice.  I drank it down, munching on the
snow, thinking. 

   ***

   She woke after 6:30pm.  I warned her about the cold, opened the door,
and scooped more snow for drinking water. 

   I had put my clothes back on; hers were now dry, too.  I handed them
back to her.

   She climbed up to the driver's seat, the wad of clothes still in her
fist.  "Nothing happen?" she asked.

   I shook my head.  "No."

   She stared at the dashboard.

   "What is it, Mom?"

   "I need to relieve myself."

   "Oh."

   "Have you gone, yet?  When you were out there?"

   "No."

   "I don't want to put these on just to take them off again," she said,
touching her pile of clothes.

   "You should put something on, Mom.  It's freezing."

   "Why, though?  They'll just get snowy and wet, and I'll have to take
them off."

   She had a point.  "Shoes, though.  You've got to."

   "I'll put on shoes," she said.  "Do you need to go?"

   "Not really.  I could, I suppose."

   "Then you should.  The fewer times we open the door, the better."

   I said, "You're right.  We should plan this, as much as we can."

   She nodded.

   I went on.  "When you go, I could go, too, and then check on our
triangles up there, make sure they're still visible."

   "When do we shut off the car?" she asked.

   "When we go to sleep for the night, I think."

   Mom nodded and then suddenly turned away from me, sniffing.  Her hand
went up to her mouth.

   "Mom?"

   She shook her head.

   She was hungry.  Really hungry.

   I knew enough about hunger to understand that it's relative.  People who
snack every couple of hours, if put in a position where they miss an eating
period, get hungry.  If they miss a couple of eating periods, they get
pissy and hungry.  Miss more, and they're starving.

   Mom hadn't eaten since last night, but she was used to it.  She did it
every Friday.  The problem was she had crossed over the time when she would
usually have her crazy-huge Friday dinner.  So, not only had she missed her
regular mealtime, but she also hadn't eaten in twenty-four hours.

   It surprised me to think how long she kept herself together.  Hell, I
was hungry and pissy, and I ate breakfast.

   Mom grabbed her water bottle, unscrewed the lid, and tilted it up to her
face.  If there was water in there, it was only a few drops.  She was going
for the snow.

   "Mom, that'll only make you colder, eating snow."

   She turned the bottle up again, going for more.  When she finished, she
set the bottle down.  She said, "I don't care, honey, if it makes me cold."
Her eyes were flat and sullen.  "Tell me when you're ready to go." She
grabbed her shoes and slid them on.

   I bundled up.

   Ready, I turned to her.  I was covered, head to toe, she was in panties,
a bra, and shoes.  She grabbed the handle.

   "Wait," I said.  "The door won't lock, will it?"

   She shook her head.

   "Go," I said.

   Peripherally, I saw Mom take three big steps, yank her panties to her
knees, and squat.  Turning away, I dropped my sweatpants and peed.  Wind
blew the stream sideways.  I shook it and drew up my pants.  Turning, I saw
Mom, still bent low, her butt grazed the top of the drift.

   I looked up the slope and started moving.

   The world had gotten colder and windier.  Snow wasn't falling as
intensely, but powerful gusts swept up the powder, spun it into a vortex,
and hurled streams of icy flakes into my face.

   I swore. 

   At the top, I swore again.  The triangles were scattered about, and I
only saw three of them.

   I walked to pick one of them up, and I stopped.

   Tracks.

   Fresh tracks.  Someone had driven by here, and it couldn't have been
long ago.  It was hard to tell what direction the car had been going; the
tracks were in the middle of the road.  I hustled to pick up the three
markers and find the fourth.

   It had blown several yards down the hill, so I went after it.

   Each triangle had a spike that could be used to sink it into the ground,
but the earth was too rocky, and I knew the plastic spike would just break
off. 

   Snow hadn't yet completely obscured the area I had established the first
time, but there was work to be done to clear it again.  Plus, I needed to
find some rocks big enough to weigh down the triangles.

   It was not, however, the kind of weather a person wanted to spend any
amount of time searching for something.

   And that deep, icy chill had already set in all over my body.  My
muscles didn't react quickly to the things I was asking them to do. 
Everywhere I shivered.  I needed to quit.

   But, fuck it; this was too important.  A car had come by.  If it had
gone out, it may be coming back.  If it had gone in, it may have been a cop
or something checking out our road before heading back to town.

   I had been out for near five minutes, but it felt like longer.  I would
remain out there for another five.  I found three decent rocks that would
hold the markers up.  For the last one, I had four small stones; they would
have to do.

   "Fuck this," I muttered, and I trudged down the slope.

   Climbing into the front seat, I sat, unmoving.  I didn't look or listen
for Mom; I was an ice statue.  After ten minutes, I felt thawed enough to
move again.  Very slowly, I began stripping everything off down to my
underwear.

   After setting my clothes on the dashboard, I looked in the back.  Mom
laid under the blanket.

   "Mom, can I...?"

   "Please, yes."

   Once under the blanket, she climbed on top of me, hugging with her arms
and legs.

   "I saw tracks.  A car had come by," I said.

   She didn't speak or move.

   "But, the markers had blown over.  I had to reset them, weigh them
down."

   Still, she didn't respond.

   "There's a chance, maybe," I offered.

   A few seconds after I had finished, Mom said, "When you're warmed up,
will you help me look for something to eat in here?  I don't care what it
is."

   "Sure, Mom."

   "We'll have to raise the seats in the back."

   "Okay."

   "Under seats, in pockets, everywhere.  I don't care what it is.  I need
to eat."

   I nodded from under her.

   "And you're right about eating snow.  We need to let it melt first."

   "Yeah."

   "Let's get you warm again," she said.  She began sliding her smooth body
up and down mine.

   Fuck, it felt good.  I never wanted it to stop.  She was warm, and her
body had a perfect balance between downy softness and healthy firmness.

   I stopped her before my body started to respond.  "I'm good.  Let's
look."

   "Okay."

   She took the front seat.  I lifted the back seats up and searched. 
Under the passenger side front seat, I found an empty styrofoam drink cup.
I kept it so that we could have two cups of snow melting.  There was an
unopened 12-ounce bottle of water in the seat pocket behind the driver's
side.  I handed it to her.

   "Do you care?" she asked.

   I shook my head.  She downed it in two pulls, gasping with relish when
she finished.

   Under her console, I found the biggest treasure: a little box of orange
Tic Tacs.  When I showed it to her, she seized it.  Her eyes were like
saucers of dark fire.  She opened the lid and upturned the container into
her gaping mouth, shaking the contents free.

   Half of them fell out, and she uprighted the little box and began
munching.  When she swallowed, she moaned, "Oh, that's good."

   She pushed the container to me.

   I shook my head.  "All yours."

   She finished the rest, devouring them and vocalizing her satisfaction
lustily before tossing the container to the floor.  She reclined the
driver's seat and rested, her hands on her tummy.

   Ten minutes later, she began weeping quietly.

   I touched her shoulder gently from the back seats.

   Her voice broke when she said, "I'm just so hungry it hurts."

   "I know, Mom.  I'm sorry."

   I rubbed her shoulders and arms.

   "I feel like I'm losing control," she cried, sniffing and wiping her
nose.  "I can't stop having these -"these crazy notions."

   "How can I help, Mom?  I'll do anything."

   I felt her kiss my hand.  Afterward, she moaned sadly.

   I said, "I'll run for it, Mom.  I'll run for home.  I can make it, and
I'll come back with my car."

   She wiped her eyes, saying, "Honey, no.  It's -"it's gentlemanly of you
to offer, but you mustn't.  I couldn't bear the thought of you getting
frostbite or -"or worse."

   I continued massaging her shoulders.

   She checked her water bottle and drank the water that had melted.

   I said, "When that's empty, I'll fill this one, too." I pointed at the
cup I'd found.

   Mom nodded.  "Will you lower the second-row seats again?  I need to lay
down."

   She climbed in back and slid under the blanket when I finished.

   "Hold me," she said.

   On our sides, she backed into me, and I draped my arm over her stomach.

   Outside the windows, the darkness of night fell around the car.

   We talked.  I held her, and she starting asking me questions.  We talked
about my classes.  We talked about Dee.  We talked about past Christmases
and old vacations. 

   I asked her about Pete, about Grandma and Grandpa, about what she was
like when she was a kid.  She told me stories from school.

   It was, maybe, the first time I had ever gotten her telling stories
about her much younger self.  She had been a rowdy one.  She told me about
skipping classes, smoking, and partying.  She told me about her friends all
sneaking out together one snowy winter night -"a school night. 

   It was going to be a light dusting of snow, maybe 2-3 inches.  Mom and
her friends summoned all the boys they knew who drove trucks.  Together,
they filled them with snow and then dumped it all on the school
superintendent's front porch and driveway.  School got canceled the next
morning. 

   At one point, when we were both laughing, she turned and kissed me on
the cheek.  I took the moment to reflect on the idea that, despite us being
sandwiched together, I had not thought about sex or even gotten the whisper
of an erection.

   That's fucking more like it.

   I checked the clock.  It was almost 9:00pm.

   "I should shut off the car," I said.

   "We ought to relieve ourselves before you do -"and fill the snow cups."

   "Yeah," I said.  "Ready?"

   She nodded.

   We climbed into the front.  She finished the water bottle.  We both put
on our shoes.  I grabbed the styrofoam cup.

   "One.  Two.  Three!"

   We were out.  I didn't really have to go, not having drunk very much
water since our ordeal began.  I pissed anyways, not wanting to have to
leave the car in the middle of the night.

   Just putting myself away, I heard a scream.

   Turning, I ran over to the driver's side.  Mom had fallen backward.  Her
knees were in the air, panties stretched between them.  The snow was so
deep that the rest of her body was buried.

   I dug her free.  Her hand grasped mine, and I pulled.  Halfway up, her
feet slipped.  We both plummeted into the frigid powder.

   I pushed to my knees, feeling snow inside my underwear.  "Shit!" I
yelled.  I pulled Mom to her bottom, and then we both stood.

   She was gasping when she emerged. 

   There was no hair on her pussy.  I couldn't stop myself from looking.

   "Hold -"Hold me while I finish, honey!"

   She gasped and shivered, but I held her.  Finished, I picked her up and
carried her back to the car.

   Opening the door with one hand was a bitch, but I did it.  I set her in
the seat and closed the door.

   Racing to the other side, I climbed in, myself. 

   "Fuck!" I yelled.

   Mom turned to me.  Her face was pale.

   "The cups," I explained.  So, I went back out, picked them up, filled
them, and leaped in the car.

   Without a second thought, I yanked off my snow-packed underwear.

   Turning to Mom, I watched her eyes dart from my groin to my face.  She
was shaking uncontrollably.  "Help m-me t-t-take off these things!"

   On my knees and leaning over her, I pulled her bra up and over her
head. 

   Her nipples are perfect, I thought. 

   Shaking off the vision, I tugged her panties from either side of her
knees and pulled them over her feet.

   "In back, " I ordered.

   "Don't -"don't make me move."

   "No!  Under the blanket.  Come on."

   "H-help me, honey."

   As best I could, I helped her up and into the back.  I climbed in beside
her and lifted the blanket over us both.

   "No.  Please.  Please, just -"just lay on top of me."

   I did.  Her breasts pushed against my chest, and I could feel the gentle
nudge of her nipples.  My package rested in the gap where her thighs were
pinched tightly together, just beneath her vagina.

   "Move," she urged.

   With my hands and knees on the floor, I rocked my body against hers. 
Despite my own cold, my cock reacted almost instantly.  As it expanded, I
raised my hips to lift it off her.

   "Honey," she said.

   I kept rocking.

   "Honey."

   I stopped.

   "It's okay."

   I stared at her.

   "Don't be embarrassed."

   I opened my mouth to talk, but nothing came out.

   "Relax yourself.  Just please make me warm."

   I nodded, and I lowered my erection onto her.  Then I began to slide
over her, back and forth.  The heat and friction sent waves of warmth
through me.  There were times when the entire length slid right over her
small mound.  Once, the rigid tip butted against her., between her legs

   She gasped.

   I adjusted myself and continued.

   It was feeling too good.

   The fuck was I doing?  I stopped and lifted my body up, drawing deep
draughts of air.  I needed to stop this.

   But, underneath me, Mom took this as a signal to roll to her stomach. 
She said, "Do my back now."

   I hesitated.

   "Please, honey."

   I lowered myself, feeling the shaft of my cock nestle along the crease
between the fleshy pillows of her ass.  Then, I slid, slowly, back and
forth.

   Mom hummed underneath me.  She told me how good it felt.

   Not long after, I stopped.  I had to.

   "Keep going, honey."

   I didn't speak.

   She rolled over to face me.  "Honey?"

   "I can't Mom, I'll..." Too ashamed, I couldn't finish.

   She nodded.  "I understand." She cupped my face in her hands, and I
thought she was about to speak.

   But, her expression grew distant, like she was looking through me, not
at me. 

   "What?" I asked.

   She didn't reply.

   "Mom, what?"

   Then, her eyes came back to mine.  "It's -"it's nothing."

   "I'm sorry, Mom."

   "Don't be."

   I looked at the dashboard.  "I'll shut off the car.  We should try to
sleep." I sat up and leaned to the front.  "Ready," I asked, glancing back.

   Oh, shit.  Mom was on her back, looking up. 

   She was looking up at my cock, hard and hovering inches over her face.
Her voice was airy when she said, "Ready." Her breasts rose and fell.

   I shifted my lower body over and away from her. 

   She turned her face toward mine, and we stared at each other for a
moment.

   I broke away and shut down the engine.

   When I slid back under the blanket, I turned away from her. 

   She inched closer.  Touching my back, she said, "I'm sorry, honey.  I'm
not myself right now."

   "No, I'm sorry, Mom," I whispered.  "I lost control.  Forgot where I
was."

   Mom began weeping again.  "I'm just so...so fucking hungry!"

   I rolled to her and held her, not even thinking about her swear.  My
boner began to relax and fall away.  She sobbed.  Eventually, she
whispered, "I love you, honey."

   "I love you, too, Mom."

   She sniffed again, and with a clearer voice, she whispered, "It just
hurts." 

   I hugged her, and she cried herself to sleep.

   ***

   I woke several times during the night as the inside first grew chilly
and then downright cold.  On one of my awakening, Mom and I had squashed
ourselves together, her back to my front.

   On the next, I woke with a start from a dream I couldn't remember.  I
was certain that my sudden, jerky movement had wakened her, but she didn't
stir.

   I laid back down, trying to remember the dream, but I was drifting away.

   Then, Mom rolled.

   She flipped over, facing me, and her hand fell on my hip. 

   I liked how it felt, her fingertips so gently resting there.  A rapid
succession of images ripped through my mind, and, in my weakness, I acted
on one.

   It couldn't hurt, I thought.

   I let my hips roll, ever so slightly, to the side.

   Mom's hand slid down.  It was now wedged just inside my hip, ever so
much closer.

   I rolled completely onto my back, and her hand came to rest on my cock.

   I silently mouthed, "Oh, shit."

   Mom snuggled closer.  I felt her breasts against my right arm.

   My penis grew under her hand.  Soon, it was fully erect, jutting through
the gap between her thumb and index finger.  I closed my eyes and let the
feeling soak through me.

   Her hand adjusted -"just a reflexive movement, I thought.  Yet, suddenly
my cock was throbbing in the grip of her fingers.  I gasped.

   "I'm awake, honey."

   "I..."

   "Don't talk.  Listen." She waited for me to say something.  When I
didn't, she began.  "Take your penis from me.  Take it in your hand."

   I did.

   "That's good," she said.  "Now, I want you to please yourself."

   I didn't move.

   "Stroke it, honey.  Please."

   Her voice was all sweet cream with an underlying hint of urgency.  I did
as she asked.

   "Make yourself feel good," she urged.

   I heard the blanket's soft rustling from my tugging.

   "That's it." 

   I grunted at the sound of her gentle encouragement.

   "Keep going, and listen while I tell you what I want," she cooed.  "When
you begin to feel ready, I would like you to climb over me.  The roof is
low, so I understand if it's difficult.  Climb over me at my chest." 

   I heard her swallow.

   Then, she said, "Honey, I want you to ejaculate into my mouth.  Do you
understand?"

   "Yeah," I whispered.

   "You're just giving me something to eat is all."

   "Yeah."

   "Don't feel embarrassed.  Just know that you're helping me."

   "I'm close, Mom."

   "To me, then, honey.  Come."

   Mom threw the blanket down to her waist.  I put one leg over her and
followed with the rest of my body.  Her breasts pressed under my thighs. 
The roof was low enough that I hunched over into the front seat.  I put my
hand on the driver's side headrest and looked down.

   Mom stared at my erection, licking her lips.  I stroked, watching her.

   She adjusted herself.  The tip of my cock was maybe an inch from her
lips, but as I stroked, it moved.  Mom tried following it with her mouth
for a time, and then she reached up and wrapped her hand over mine, keeping
the tip steady.

   "Come on, honey," she huffed, and her lips surged upward, stretching
toward the tip.

   I grunted.

   "Feed me!" she urged.

   "Now," I said.

   Her mouth opened wide.  Her hand held me tight.

   The inside of the car was faintly illuminated by the bright snow
outside. I watched the silhouette of my semen fire into her.  Another jet
launched.  Another.  Then, it fell from me in drooping globs.

   Mom uttered a kind of sweet, open-mouthed hum as it filled her mouth. 

   Her hand, still over mine, squeezed my penis tightly, stroking again.  A
final drop eked out from the tip and clung there.

   She tugged once more, and the drop fattened, but it didn't fall.  She
gently shook my erection, but the drop held.  Mom grew still, just watching
it.

   Then, I saw the shadow of her tongue stretch out and wipe the tip
clean. 

   She swallowed with a guttural cluck.  "Oh, yes," she gasped.  "Oh, thank
you, honey." 

   My strength seemed to leave me completely.  With what energy remained, I
pushed myself back into the rear area and fell beside her.

   I had seen how much cum I usually spent in one orgasm; it was far from a
meal, but she seemed genuinely satisfied for the moment. 

   We laid beside each other in silence, listening to one another's
breathing. 

   Finally, Mom said, "Sleep, honey.  Rest."

   I did.

   ***

   It could not have been very long before I was awakened to the feeling of
my testicles being softly caressed.  I was on my side.  She was on hers,
facing me.

   "Mom?"

   She shushed me.  "Relax, honey."

   I did. 

   When my erection began to fill out, Mom grasped it.  "It will be easier
for you this way.  Me, too."

   Fuck, her hands were perfect -"so tender and warm, yet firm enough so as
to feel like a deep massage.

   I groaned.

   "Yes," she whispered.  "You're just feeding me, just giving me something
to help."

   She let go of the shaft, and a little spark of anger rose inside me.  I
had the urge to hiss at her not to stop, but I kept my mouth shut.

   She took my hand and placed it on her breast.

   It was full and supple.  The hard nipple pressed against my palm.  I
remembered seeing it, remembered how absolutely perfect it was.  I squeezed
it.

   "Yes, honey, let it help you."

   I grunted some response.

   "Tell me when you're ready."

   I squeezed her tit again, and the words just escaped me: "Fuck, they're
perfect."

   Mom laughed and said, "There's no need to swear, but I'm glad you like
them."

   The pace of her hand quickened on my cock, and I let out a sigh of
thrumming pleasure.  Her breast fell out of my hand.  It was too good.

   I said the same to her.

   She moved quickly, sliding down toward my erection.  Her jaw gaped, and
the tip disappeared inside her mouth.  Her hand continued stroking me, and
trembling energy starting roaring through my body.

   Her lips didn't close down upon the tip.  I felt nothing from her mouth.

   Then, her wet tongue pressed firmly against the underside. 

   It threw me over.  Every time I grunted, Mom moaned as if the flow of
semen into her mouth was, itself, orgasmic for her.

   She stroked again, squeezing and milking.  Then, her lips closed over
the tip. 

   I groaned.

   Her tongue briefly bathed and caressed the tip, and with a smack, she
drew back. 

   I listened to her swallow my cum with a low, feminine moan.

   I blew out the air I'd been holding.

   Breathlessly, Mom cried, "It's so good, honey.  Your semen tastes so
good." She let go of my cock, and then she kissed it, whispering, "Thank
you."

   I sighed, and Mom slid back up to me, hugging my face into her breasts.
"It helps you, Mom?"

   "It does, honey," she whispered.  "Rest now."

   I kissed her cleavage, snuggling into it.

   Mom kissed the top of my head, and I slept.

   ***

   She shook me awake, but not entirely. 

   It was deep in the night when I briefly opened my eyes.  I closed them
again. 

   "Do you think you might be ready again?" she asked.

   Still groggy, I didn't answer.  Her words were not quite registering in
my brain.

   "I want more," she said.

   "Tired, Mom," I said, rolling onto my back.

   "Oh, I know, honey," she said, soothingly.  After a brief pause, she
said, "I'm just going to help myself while you rest."

   I mumbled a response, but I was fading.

   Then, I felt her tongue.  I felt it again.  She was licking my penis and
my balls.  She kissed my cock, and then there were more licks.  I woke. 

   "Mom," I began.

   She stopped, glancing up at me.  Her ponytail wrapped around her neck,
dangling on my thigh.  Her silhouette was perfectly feminine -"high
cheekbones and a gently sloping jaw.  Fuck, she was gorgeous.

   While she waited for me to say something, she kissed my penis again, and
then looked up at me.

   "I -"I don't...that feels really good."

   She smiled, bent down, and clasped my penis in her lips. 

   I felt her suck it's limp, but surging length inside her mouth, and I
groaned.

   This was the same perfectly mannered and proper woman who on countless
occasions had corrected my behavior: 

   "Wipe your mouth, honey." 

   "You're not a bell-ringer.  Stand up straight, young man." 

   "I forbid you to eat that off the floor.  It's fouled."

   "Do not use that word, and especially in front of a lady."

   Now, she was sucking my dick. 

   My cock quickly grew to completeness.  Mom's head slid up and down, and
the feeling was exquisite.  Her mouth was wet and hot, her lips soft.  Her
bearing and attitude seemed pampering, like all she wanted to do was care
for me in the most intimate of ways. 

   She moved simply, without the contortions and frenetic energy of some
woman who just wanted to get her man off.  Affection and tenderness
characterized her every motion.  Despite her intense hunger, it seemed a
labor of love.

   I told her how good it felt.

   She hummed and drew off.  "I'm sure you usually let your woman know in
advance, but there's no need now.  Relax and let it go, okay, honey?"

   I nodded vigorously, waiting for her to continue.

   "Feed me," she cooed, and her lips clutched the shaft.  Her tongue
dragged against it inside her mouth.  Her head lowered.

   I swore at the sheer perfection of it.  My body began to fill with raw
energy.  My chest heaved as I drew breath to feed my muscles with oxygen.
Her mouth was giving me power.  It surged in my heart, and I flexed my arms
and legs.  My shoulders rose from the floor when my stomach muscles
clenched.  My head went dizzy, and I released into her.

   She swallowed as it flowed.  I heard every throaty gulp and every
satisfied moan that followed.  She loved it.  She fucking loved what my
body was giving her.

   I collapsed when it ended, swearing and gasping for breath.

   She sucked for some time afterward and then drew off. 

   My cock remained ramrod erect, wobbling when it emerged.  It glistened
in the snow-illuminated darkness of the car.

   Mom slid up beside me, thanking me, and snuggling close.  She kissed my
cheek and whispered how she wished she had something to give me in return.

   She fell asleep well before I did.

   ***

   Flat on my back I awakened to a sensation.  My limbs were cold, but my
core was warm.

   Mom was on top of me, gliding.  She was on all fours beneath my stomach,
and she was sliding her breasts over my penis in circles.  When she noticed
me, she stopped.  She took one of her breasts in hand and traced little
curves over my cock with the nipple.

   The lightness of the touch electrified me.  I groaned.

   She released her breast and started sliding her tits from side to side
across my sprouting erection.  When it flipped up toward my face, Mom
rested her chest on me, so my cock grew to fullness through her cleavage.

   Still on her knees, Mom propped the rest of her body on her elbows, one
beside each of my hips.  Then, using her hands, she imprisoned my cock
between her breasts and began rocking her body over me.

   The fullness of those tits stirred me.  Before, I had an idea of their
size, but only in a disinterested way.  Now, I experienced their true mass.
They were heavy and soft, but underneath that smooth, supple outer layer,
there was thickness and density, like an unflexed muscle. 

   I liked tits, but they weren't a big thing for me.  They were just one
of the many aspects making women sexy and beautiful.  Beyond feeling them
and, perhaps, sucking them on occasion, I didn't really see a sexual point
to breasts. 

   I did now.

   Mom watched me while she gyrated.

   My mouth hung open.  I couldn't last.  I didn't.  I threw my head back,
grunting.

   Mom stopped, and her lips closed around the fat tip.  She sucked hard,
and my cock felt like it bent inward as it drew the semen into firing
position and surged outward to usher it up the shaft and into Mom's waiting
mouth.

   I was vocal.  I groaned and swore. 

   When she finished swallowing, she crawled up and laid beside me.  "Thank
you, honey.  You have no idea how much you're helping me."

   I rubbed her shoulder. 

   "I love your cum," she added.

   I smiled.

   She sighed and almost immediately fell asleep. 

   I spread the blanket over us both.

   ***

   I woke first.  The light of the new day just showed through the frosted
windows.  My body shivered.

   Climbing to the front, I put the key in the ignition and started the
engine.  I drank my cup of water and went back.

   Mom remained fast asleep.

   I laid on my back, replaying the night's surprises and pleasures in my
mind.  It helped keep my mind off my own hunger, which raged when I let it.

   It was a new day.  I wondered if that might mean something.  An ending?
A beginning? 

   I turned to Mom.  Her back was to me, and from the shape of the blanket,
she'd brought her knees up into a tight fetal position.

   My stomach rumbled, and the deep, hollow ache made me wince. 

   I needed a distraction.  Looking at Mom, it was easy to decide.  The
contours of her hips and ass under the blanket drew my curiosity.  The
knowledge that she was naked under there -"that I could really see her body
now that there was some light -"moved me.  I wanted to see her pussy.

   I sat up and flipped my position, still facing Mom, but with my feet
toward the front.  I had to curl my knees to my chest in order to fit.

   Delicately, I lifted the blanket, laying it over her hip.  Her ass was
completely exposed to me, and I could see the slit of her vagina wedged
between her thighs.

   I swore.  Was there anything -"any part of her -"that wasn't
heart-crushingly perfect?  The sight of her ass threw me into confusion. 
Did some lingerie model take her place in this fucking car?  How can this
be my Mom, for fuck's sake?

   Inching closer, I ran my hands lightly over her flesh -"the curve, the
thick fullness of her butt, the smooth sleekness of her thigh.  Fucking
hell.

   I whispered, "Oh, Shit.  Look at that pussy," and I didn't mean to
actually say the words.

   I drew nearer, and my nose came to rest mere fractions of an inch from
her labia.  I inhaled her aroma, and a hunger rose up in me like a rogue
wave.  I put my tongue on her vagina and slid it across.

   I did it again, tightening the tip of my tongue.  It dipped inside her.

   I swore quietly.  This pussy was amazing.  Fuck, it tasted good. 

   "Honey?"

   I heard her voice and froze.  Then, staring at her pink slit, seeing it
shine with my saliva, I said, "Don't stop me."

   A moment passed in silence, where neither of us moved.  Then her leg
lifted, giving me unfettered access.

   I buried my face into the opening.

   Mom gasped.

   Her pussy was simple.  There was no excess -"no extra wrinkles or fleshy
abundance.  It was clean and efficient.  It didn't look anything like how I
imaged some Mom's pussy would look.  The thing was a fucking wonder
-"pristine, like something just having emerged from its original
packaging. 

   She tasted like a woman -"or maybe everything a man wants in a woman. 
It wasn't some pungent, heady thing.  Like its appearance, her flavor was
simple.  It was elegant.  I imagined that if roses tasted anything like
their scent, then Mom's pussy was like plucking the petal from a pink rose
and letting it slowly melt on my tongue.

   Her fluids came, and I sucked them up. 

   I was lost there between her thighs.  I had no idea if I was giving her
any pleasure at all, and I didn't care.  I loved her pussy, and I could not
stop licking, sucking, and kissing every inch of it, tirelessly searching
for more of its nectar.

   Her clitoris, I found when I danced on it with the tip of my tongue,
triggered more of her smell and taste.  I poured myself into that little
nub.

   Some few minutes afterward, I felt hands plunge into my hair and grip
the back of my head, urging me deeper and closer, drawing my face further
into her.  I felt thighs clamp down over my ears, securing me in place.

   Still, I lapped.

   I could barely hear a thing, but the car seemed to shudder with shrieks
of rapturous pleasure.  A jet of hot, watery fluid cascaded across my
tongue and into my mouth.  I gulped it, and more came.  I didn't give a
shit, I swallowed it.  I wanted it.

   I liked it.

   I knew, the moment I first felt the fluid, that it may have been piss.
But, it wasn't.  The crazy thing is, whether it was my physical or sexual
hunger that drove me, I wouldn't have even cared if it had been. 

   Her thighs relaxed and fell away.  Her hands released my head, and I
drew back, staring at the glistening pink pussy that I'd just eaten.  I
glanced at Mom.

   She stared at me, spent and satisfied.  She didn't speak. 

   I had the urge tell her something, tell her that her pussy was the most
fucking beautiful thing in the universe. 

   She adjusted herself, sitting up a little,.  She covered herself with
the blanket.  Then, her face took on a stern expression.

   I'd seen it before.  She looked like that when she as going to tell me I
did something improper.

   I yanked the blanket off her, seized her hips, and rolled her over onto
her stomach.  Then, I clutched the two perfect little fat bubbles of her
ass in my hands. 

   She caught her breath, twisting her face around to make eye contact and
render her shock. 

   I wanted to show her that I didn't give a fuck about proper.

   I wanted to show her that I loved her body.

   I spread her apart and licked her asshole, twice -"agonizingly slowly.

   She gasped in astonishment.

   I let her go and flopped down beside her.  I felt her stare, but I
didn't look back.  I looked at the ceiling of the car, enjoying the
moment. 

   I'd given her an orgasm.  I'd made her squirt.  I'd dragged my tongue
across her proper little asshole.

   Somehow, it wasn't enough.  I glanced down my own body.

   My cock was a column of granite. 

   I turned to her, swallowing a nervous lump in my throat.  Then, I
decided.

   She knew something was underway.  Her eyes flashed at mine, and her head
drew back.

   I was gentle but unyielding.  I rolled her onto her back and spread her
legs.  I ducked under one and positioned myself to mount her.  Driving my
hips forward, I stopped.  The bulbous head of my cock came to rest, poised
and nestled inside her labia, but no further.

   I looked at her.

   She panted, staring up at me. 

   I waited.

   "Cum in my mouth?" she asked.

   "Yeah."

   A moment passed, and then she nodded.

   I urged my cock into her.  She opened slowly for me, and I tried not to
force it; I tried to match the pace with which her body allowed my
passage. 

   Her jaw fell open when the tip sank inside.  Mine, too.  I felt her body
fluids coat my erection.

   Mom moaned when I reached the limit.  I drew back and thrust, now fully
lubricated by her. 

   I stopped when our bodies clapped together. 

   She held me.  I was completely inside her, our bodies as intimately
joined as possible.

   Her body made me feel like a warm electric current surged through my
every fiber and tissue.  I couldn't have moved if I wanted to.  I didn't.
The connection with her felt absolutely sublime.

   I was gasping; she was moaning.  We made eye contact.

   She cried, "It's too good, honey!"

   I couldn't respond; I just nodded, preparing myself to move -"to fuck
her, so I could feel that buzzing surge fill me up again.

   Someone pounded on the driver's side window of the car.

   I felt two things in machine gun succession: desperate alarm and abject
dismay.  Mom and I shoved ourselves apart.  My mind fucking roared in anger
at the interruption of a moment that had been singularly perfect.

   "Stay and cover up," I hissed, and I climbed into the front as quickly
as I could manage.

   The defroster had done its job on most of the windows, but the moisture
inside the car made seeing in or out impossible.  I was grateful for that.

   I buzzed the window down a few inches, enough for the person out there
to see inside, but not enough for him or her to see I was completely naked.

   "Need any help?" the guy at our window asked.  He was wearing a blue
snowcap that said BPD on it -"a cop.

   "Yes, sir!  You have no idea."

   "Just you?"

   "No, my Mom's in here, too." I glanced back.  He looked back and saw
Mom; she was neatly wrapped up in her blanket.  The cop nodded at her.

   "Thank you!" she said.

   "My pleasure, ma'am." The cop turned back to me.  "Anyone hurt?"

   "No, just really hungry."

   "How long have you been down here?"

   "Since yesterday afternoon."

   "Cell phones not work in this area?" he asked, glancing around the car.

   I sighed.  "We both forgot ours."

   "Ooh, that's bad luck.  Well, bundle up and come on out."

   I hesitated.  "Give us a minute.  Our clothes got wet and we've been
trying to stay warm under a blanket."

   "I understand.  Take your time.  Get your things." Before I rolled up
the window, he said, "Hey, that was good thinking, putting out those
markers."

   I thanked him, and Mom and I dressed without exchanging a word.

   A few minutes later, we were in the back of his cruiser at the top of
the hill.  He called base, reported us, and then filled out some form.  I
stared out the window.  He talked mostly to Mom. 

   What guy wouldn't?

   ***

   Back home, Mom and I ravaged the pantry for food, neither of us willing
to take the time to make something. 

   We talked, but not about the sex.  Mostly, we just raved about how good
the salsa tasted, how great the chips were.

   I had this vision while I was munching away: Mom, once we had satisfied
ourselves, taking my hand and leading me up to her bedroom.

   Silly me.

   She called Pete when we finished eating.  I hardly saw any of her the
rest of the day.

   ***

   The days passed. 

   The car got towed and fixed.  The snow melted. 

   It's easy to think that, after what we shared in that car, things
couldn't possibly be normal again, but they were somehow.  Mom made it so
that things would not be weird.  She ignored what had happened, and I
followed her lead, not wanting to bring it up and upset her. 

   I guess she wanted to forget the whole thing.  It hadn't been ladylike
what she'd done; it hadn't been proper.

   At some point, it dawned on me that we would never talk about it.  I
came to accept it.  But, I still believed that, at some point or other,
there would be a look, a glance, a moment between us that would serve as an
acknowledgment.

   Didn't happen.

   ***

   Christmas came and went.  I registered for Spring classes.

   On the Friday between Christmas and New Year's, I didn't go out.  I'd
broken up with Deanna, and most of my friends were out of town.  A light
snow fell.  Mom went out, of course.

   I went to bed before midnight.

   I was dreaming about meeting my Dad for the first time, and I remember
feeling really pissed because, as it turned out in my dream, Pete was my
father.  I didn't like it, and I was about to yell at Mom when an
earthquake hit us.  I fell to the floor, watching pictures drop from the
walls, seeing glasses fall from the table.  The floor, itself, was rocking
me to and fro.

   I woke with a start.

   Mom's soft hands stopped shaking me.

   "Mom?" I muttered, rubbing and opening my eyes.  It was two in the
morning.  I looked at her dark silhouette.  "Everything okay?" I asked.

   Silence. 

   Her face was unreadable in the darkness.  Finally, she said, "I'm
hungry, honey."

   *****



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