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Author’s note: Inspired from a tale of Sophia Cleese.


The story of a man who sleighed his father, wed his mother and had sex with her, then lost his site.

My mother screamed. Mother was hysterical. My mom laughed so hard, I thought she would pee in her panties. Except of course she had none. She and I were both naked on the bed. Perhaps I ought to start from the beginning.

I got a call one day at the office. It was from my step-sister. “Mom’s dying!”

“What are you talking about?”

Carmen Casta, my step-sister who was the daughter of mom’s second husband, lived with them in Thebes, Illinois. I lived in Winnipeg, Canada. My dad had joined me up there recently.

“I overheard Jolene, talking on the phone. She said it out loud.”

“You must have mistaken her, Carmen.”

“What could I get misunderstand, when she used the words, ‘I’m dying’? Then a few moments later she mentioned, ‘Cancer’. A minute or two later she said, ‘I only have three months’. I know that my father doesn’t know yet and he’ll be devastated, but I don’t think it’s my place to tell him such bad tidings. But I figured you ought to know, since you’re so far away and her only son.”

“God! Thanks, Carmen, for letting me know. I’m going to come down as soon as I can. Don’t tell mom that I’m going to be arriving as she’ll try to talk me out of it. Not that she could, but I would rather avoid a useless argument.”

“Sure, no problem. Listen, my dad and I are going on a week’s trip in a few days. Maybe you could be here just after we leave, so she won’t be alone. She probably hasn’t told dad because she doesn’t want to spoil the trip. She knows he wouldn’t leave if he knew. We’re going to look at a couple of colleges, for me to decide where I want to apply to, for next year. We’ve planned this for a long time. If you’re here I would feel better about going. You can stay in my room, so you wouldn’t have to get a motel nor sleep on the fold-out couch. We’re leaving in three days. Does that work for you?”

“Perfect, I’ll be there just after you guys are gone, and I’ll plan to stay more than a week, so I’ll see you when you get back. Just don’t tell, Jo.”

Jolene was my mother’s first name, but ‘Jo’ was what everybody called her, even me sometimes. I also called her mom, and I called her at least once a week to keep in touch. We have always been very close. But since I have been up in Canada, I don’t see her as much as I would like. I own a very successful snowmobile dealership/lease/rentals in Winnipeg. But this was the beginning of December, and a sideline part of my business during the holiday season was my sleigh rentals.

That’s right, just like the one Santa uses, a sleigh; snow skid rails to run on, front and back seats, red with white and gold trim; straight out of the 1880’s. Only these were built fifty years ago, and use horses to draw them rather than reindeer. In fact, we supply the parade sleigh for the local Santa, mounted on a float of course. Tourists, a large part of the holiday business, love to ‘go dashing through the snow, in a one horse open sleigh’; over the fields they go, laughing all the way. Or they’ll rent the snowmobiles, either way, there’s profit.

I don’t make a huge profit on the sleigh end of the business, but the advertising value is super and definitely worth it. I told dad what was going on with mom. He didn’t feel that it would be right to show up for a visit this early in her illness. Especially if she hadn’t yet told her current spouse even. He asked what he could do, while I was away. My regular manager could handle most everything, but I told pop that if he could deal with the sleigh rental end, that would be one less thing for my employee to worry about.

He agreed to take on the responsibility. So I put him in one of the sleds and let him see what it felt like to be Santa. He laughed all the way. “You ‘sleigh’ me!” he said chuckling on his return, “That is a great ride!” I knew that my father would be able to convey that sense of merriment to the folks who inquired about how enjoyable the experience was. Indeed, dad did twenty percent better sales over the whole season than we had last year. So that had been a smart move on my part.

What was not so smart was showing up unannounced on my mother’s door step, six hours after Carmen and her father had left. First she thought something was wrong with pop, then it was her husband and Carmen had been in a crash. Mom always thought the worse had happened, any time the phone rang late at night, or someone showed up unexpectedly, or there was a fire siren when she was away from the house. “My home is up in flames!” always the pessimist, my mother.

I think that stemmed from her childhood, where there had been quite a lot of real tragedy that happened over the years. It scarred her in ways that were psychological, though physically she had never been touched by any serious injury or illness. Up kızılay escort until now. But I was sure the current bad news would be devastating, and I knew she would need all the morale boosting help she could get, to face dying of cancer in just three months.

I had another motive for wanting so see mom while she was still relatively healthy for a short while. Jolene and I had always been close, very close. Closer that most sons and mothers get, especially I am talking about physically. Though we never had actually had sex, we had been involved in intimate foreplay when I was in my late teens, just out of high school. She and dad had separated and we were both emotionally leaning on each other in those days.

Was it incestuous, those few years after they split, but before she met Juan? Juan ‘Jack’ Casta was an ex-Cuban entrepreneur who had a thriving lumber mill in Illinois. Yes it was indecent, but discrete, incest of a sort perhaps, but we never consummated our erotic relationship, much to my regret. Perhaps to mom’s sorrow too, I thought. She had been reluctant to go that far with her young son; well I was 18, I thought I was mature for my years and I certainly didn’t feel restrained by her age. Even though we didn’t actually have sex, we became awfully familiar, more than just cozy. Once we had made each other cum, we did it often, as we had all but become lovers, and we came closer and closer to that point of no return.

Now I was twenty-nine and divorced myself. While she was married again, I knew there was only a small window remaining if we were ever to make love. Jack’s and Carmen’s trip out of town was essentially the only possibility. On the plane I remembered the last time we had had flirted with danger, narrowing missing disaster when Jack had dropped by and nearly caught us together in a compromising situation. It had started on the couch, as so often the sofa had been the playground for foreplay that had led to the mattress. After maternal external massages of my private parts and I hers as well, then on her bed we gave into our lustful needs, nearly having intercourse. Each of the numerous encounters of our mutual kissing and touching spiraled in and up, drawing us tighter, higher and less in control of our emotions and desires, until that last evening.

We had been home, after a nice dinner which we had shared. Not just consuming the meal, but I helped to cook, I set the table, I did dishes while she dried. She counted that domestic partnering of chores, as a romantic thing and it put her ‘in the mood’. Perhaps because she never had that kind of mutuality with pop, she saw me as a sort of surrogate spouse. But I was fully aware of the seductive power that making supper and cleaning up afterwards provided to our evening. For whatever reason, it actually made her horny, and I was the guy who was to benefit from those stimulated stirrings within her.

We were comfortably situated on the sofa; mom had changed into her robe, I in just some old shorts and a tee shirt. She had cuddled up to me while we were reading, not an unusual position for an evening when there was nothing on TV. Soon however, she tilted her head up and looked at me. I knew that signal and kissed her on the lips, I caressed her hair, which was a big turn-on for her. As things quickly became a necking session, the magazine and book slid to the floor, while my hands were slipping inside her robe. She hadn’t any top on, and I thought it was likely that her panties were a loose old pair that could easily be peeled off her hips. The belt to the robe was hardly any barrier, and in no time her two globes were exposed to my view and being caressed by my palms.

As the robe slid off her shoulders my stroking fingers sought her mons and sure enough the cotton material at her crotch was damp. I put my hand inside that flimsy clothing and she spread her thighs. My digits sought the gooey gash and divided her labia seeking the entrance to her wet cavity. The waistband of worn out elastic was pulled lower so that I had freedom to play in her womanhood all I wanted. The undies were so useless that they just finally fell to her ankles as I slipped my middle finger inside and diddled her, while my thumb grazed across the nubbin of joy. Mom was breathing heavy, but she had the presence of mind to occasionally grasp my boner rising stiffly between her abdomen and my flat hard belly.

Her mouth was also making attacks on my lips and face with a very intense kind of hunger, a lust that was building and needed release soon I was sure. I continued my own assault of steady seduction, with the right hand between her legs and the other fondling her breasts. The left one also guided her fumbling to my groin and made a sweep over her soft buns once in a while. Things were getting hot. Before we rolled to the floor, off the edge of the couch, mom panted to me, “The bed, we need to get to the bed.” That was a move that we had never kızılay escort bayan done before.

We had fiddled on the divan and wrestled on the floor. We even had a liaison on one of the kitchen chairs as she sat on my lap facing me; my suckling of mom’s mams was sweet like that. My jockey shorts the only thing that prevented penetration that time. Our trysts had taken place using a blanket on our backyard lawn (thank heavens for the high fence), once even standing in the shower, but never on The Bed. Not my narrow single mattress, but her queen size bed, where she had lain with dad, and maybe her new friend, Jack. That place was reserved for her resting, and marital wrestling of the sexual sort, Jack was a possible candidate for a second hubby. But sex with her son had not been yet allowed by her conscience.

I had been glad for wherever and whatever whenever our assignations had happened. I understood that she had self-imposed limits, even though we had certainly gone beyond the pale of what society would have considered appropriate, to say the least. But now she was taking me to bed, the sofa was playground, but the bed was the major leagues sporting arena. This was serious, this looked like we were headed to a real encounter, a step beyond anything our messing around had been before. The robe and panties were left on the living room floor. My shirt and shorts were stripped as we staggered down the hall, our hands all over each other and our mouths trying to keep contact.

Naked we stumbled into her room and tumbled onto the bed. It was neatly turned-down waiting her arrival to fall asleep. Now we fell upon the mattress and the bedding was quickly mussed, as we struggled to position ourselves toward the middle. I was rolling over her, her thighs spread to cradle her son in the saddle of her womanhood; I centered my body to take aim. My boner plowed through the fluffy muff of pubic growth on her mons. It was hunting the groove that was greased with her lubricant. It moved lower to better part the labia and mashed off the mark, but the hard muscle realigned and went skidding along her divine divide. Now the moment had to be close. I could feel the wetness on my tip, more than any pre-cum could drip.

Mom’s arms wrapped around me and her tits cushioned my chest as I lay on her, though supporting my weight on my elbows. My hands clutched her shoulders, to provide leverage as I shifted upwards needing entry. My hips hunched, to direct the missile that would seek the silo of her carnal cavity, to bury itself in her hot tender tissues and fuck her furiously. The head of my dick had discovered that special spot, was dipping into the cauldron of my mother’s most secret place, the hollow of my own origin. I should have not paused, I ought to have shoved my shank deep and let her have the long love-lance that at last was poised to possess her. But I did. If I had not, possibly there would have been no stopping us, no matter what the consequences, all else be damned and it would have been done.

Jack had a key. Jack had arrived, unexpected and let himself in, thank God through the kitchen door at the far end of the house. ‘Bang!’ “Jolene, Sweet-Pea! I brought some steaks and beer; thought we’d grill ’em tomorrow night and invite the neighbors. Sorry I’m arriving late, the mill had trouble with the line. Had to replace the blade, those cussed things are a pain in the ass! Jo? You home, are ya awake?”

Mother and I looked at each other, and jumped apart. Mom rolled off the bed and grabbed her other robe from the closet. “Aiee! Rex, get the clothes from the hall and living room and stick them under the stereo cabinet. I’ll stall him in the kitchen. I’m sorry, Baby; I forgot he said he might be over tonight. Dinner was such a delight; it just plum slipped my mind.” She stuck her head out the door as she worked to get the garment on and tied. “JACK! I’ll be right there, Honey. I was just about to take myself a bath. Set down and pop us a couple of brews, Sugar. Wait for me there, please!” She motioned me to leave after her and hurried out.

So that was as close as we had got. After that, Jack was pretty much around so regular that there wasn’t much of a chance to return to the moment that had been our most intimate. As well, I could see that he and mom were hitting it off great and I didn’t want to spoil her chances for another husband and happiness. It wasn’t like I could marry her. Although, as it turned out, I did. Performed the ceremony that is. Strange as it sounds, it’s true; in the nine months that Jack wooed her ’til he wed her, I got a Justice of the Peace license. I had been looking for ways to make some extra bucks. A buddy of mine suggested that since old man ‘Judge’ Simpson was retiring, that I apply. It came with the Notary Public package of responsibilities that I assumed, when I was sworn in.

That was before I decided to head north to Winnipeg, where I got involve with escort kızlay the snowmobile business and acquired a few sleighs. I began to advertise on line with a website. “Winter s’no fun, unless you’ve got snow fun-mobiles! (Or try a sleigh today)” – Edison’s Winter Sports-Mobiles, Park St., Winnipeg. Things took off nicely. Soon I was making a name for myself and having a growing establishment. I became quite involved in the community up there and between one thing and another didn’t get back to Illinois very often. Mom was happy with Jack and they were raising Carmen. I then got hitched to a tourist gal visiting from Chicago. But that only lasted a couple of years. She decided she would rather move to California, be warm, and try modeling ’cause she was hot. I didn’t even have to pay alimony. The sex was good with my wife, but not with the same edge of excitement that had been with mom, even though we had not quite screwed.

I always wondered how it would have been, if mother and I had not been interrupted by Jack and nearly been discovered ‘in flagrante delicto’. I was sorry that we never got the chance to consummate our lust. I didn’t fly down to see my mother for only that reason. But that thought did cross my mind. She and I were still very close, and perhaps if it was unfinished business for her, like I felt it was for me, maybe she might let me bed her. However, I would have to make a good case for our having sex. Mom would be no push over. I decided that perhaps if I could explain to her about what my desires truly were, she would see that it was something that would give me a most special memory of her, before she was gone.

I knocked on her door and Jo Casta answered. She swung the front portal open and took one look at me, and in her eyes I saw the fear of racking grief she always expected. Only this was her own, I had come to share the burden of. Or so I thought.

“Rex Edison! Puss, what are you doing here?” Mom called me her pussycat, ‘Puss’ for short, ’cause when I was fourteen I was in a local theater production of ‘Cats’ the musical, and the nickname stuck, but only with mom, thank God!

“I just was missing my most favorite lady in the whole world and decided that I needed to come and visit her. I thought it would be a nice surprise.”

“Rex, you know what I think about surprises. But, of course I’m glad to see you anytime. How’s the frozen North, and your dad?”

“I call him ‘pop-cicle’, ’cause he’s a sweet guy, but he gets cold unless I remind him to bundle up. He still thinks Winnipeg has the same climate as Louisville, and forgets to dress in layers. How are Jack and Carmen? Are they around?” (As if I didn’t know, playing dumb. If Jo knew that I had spoken to her step-daughter, she would have guessed that I knew her bad news. I thought it would be better to let her tell me directly, in her own time.)

“No they left on a college tour trip, for Carmen to look at schools she might be interested in applying to. They left this morning, in fact, so it’s just you and me. How long are you down for?”

“At least a week, but we’ll see. Dad and my manager are able to handle things fine without me for a while.” (I’m thinking that I could be staying until the bitter end.)

“Great! Then I’m going to enlist you to help me work on holiday decorations I’m making for the orphanage.” (Mother always had some charity she was involved in.) Then we can go out to dinner and afterwards let’s sit down and talk about how you are doing and maybe reminisce about some old times when it used to be just the two of us.” (Was she thinking about what I was thinking? Could mom be interested in ‘unfinished business’ as well?)

I found out her project was making stockings for hanging by the chimney (a fake fire place put up for that purpose at the Children’s Home). So Santa knew where to leave the presents (donated toys) and had something put the fruits and nuts and candy in, for the kids. We cut the patterns out of red and green felt, someone else was to sew them up, and a third person was to trim them with decorations. We did forty pieces, for the twenty socks that were planned.

Dinner was at a fancy French style restaurant and we had lots of wine. Then when we were home, I made hot-toddies for us to sip while we talked on the couch. Mom was loosened up from the booze, so I thought I could try some of what had gone on, back when we were ‘messing around’; in the times we had been ‘just the two of us’, between husbands, horny and alone together. After some initial conversation, I leaned over and kissed her. Actually, I Frenched her.

“Mmm, you haven’t done that in a long time.” (Good! No objections.)

“I’ve miss you a lot mom, and I’ve missed our intimacy, and I know I will miss you even more so, later.” (First opening into the delicate subject of death.)

“You know, I missed it too. I love Jack, and he is okay as a lover, but there was always something extra-especially-tingly about our . . intimacy. I’m glad you don’t look back on that time with any regrets or embarrassment.”

“I do have a small regret, mom, not about what we did, but sort of one about what we didn’t.”

“You mean . . that we never . .”

“Never consummated our physical relationship.”

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