Convincing Mother

After sitting by and doing nothing while my grandfather used me as his sex toy for five years, and even making a bargain to continue to let him do so in exchange for not doing the same to my younger brothers, my mother finally became concerned enough one day to have a talk with me about sex, just before I turned sixteen.

The incident that triggered it occurred in our home one day when my mother returned from work early. We were in the process of packing to move out to her brother’s place a couple of states away, just my mother and me. My two younger brothers had already gone with my uncle, a week or so earlier, and we had planned to spend a couple of weeks packing stuff up and drive out there later with a U-haul trailer. Dammit, she normally parked in front of the house, where we would have heard her pull up in plenty of time to stop and get our pants on, but for some reason she had parked in the back, and come through the kitchen to walk in on us. She caught me licking and sucking the cum off a friend’s cock on our living room couch. Albert, the boyfriend, had already given me my Blowjob, and I was just returning the favor, when my mother somehow managed to park the car and get into the house without us hearing her arrive, and walked in on us in flagrante delecto, as it were.

I’ll give her credit, she didn’t completely freak out. After all, she had spent five years listening to my grandfather and me have sex in the next room at my grandparent’s house, and never said a word to me about it. The intervening four years, she had no idea I had been sexually active, with boys and girls, and was a committed bisexual. Well, considering her upbringing and the times, the early 70’s, she didn’t even know what a bisexual was.

She made us get our clothes on and sent Albert packing, not even threatening to call his parents, though he did worry she might do just that, until I saw him the next day and reassured him that wasn’t going to happen. He asked how I could be so sure, and I just smiled at him…

But for the moment, my mother proceeded to sit beside me on the couch, and began to ramble on and on about how it was her fault, she should have done something before – she wouldn’t say before what, but I knew she meant when my grandfather, her father, was using me for sex – and stopped it then, and she thought when it had stopped maybe I would return to ‘normal’ again, but now she could see it hadn’t worked, and now I had turned out ‘queer’. I’m sorry if anyone is offended by that, but this was the early 70’s, and that was the word in use at the time. She babbled on and on about how it was too late now, probably, and I would always be ‘queer’, and it was all her fault, and on and on and, well, you get the picture.

All this time, I couldn’t get a word in edgewise, and I knew from experience the best thing to do was just let her run down, and then I could try to explain.