Do You Know Where Your Mother Is?


You just never know. Even about your mother. I sure didn’t.

Three weeks ago I was snooping around my mom’s room, looking for goodies. I found a lipstick-sized vibrator under her mattress, and a folded, three-page printout of an IM session. I was shocked.

BrodskyBent: Hi there. 36 YO male here. You a hot MILF?

CurliQue35: I don’t respond well to acronyms. But yes, I am Hot.

BrodskyBent: Hot as in say, Rip off my panties and ravish me completely?

CurliQue35: I’m not that hot! Go away!

BrodskyBent: LOL. Sorry, am really horny here. Please don’t throw me out.

CurliQue35: I’ll throw you to the TOS Police, how’s that?

BrodskyBent: ANYTHING BUT THAT! So, are you married? Kids? Mortgaged up the whazoo?

CurliQue35: I always wondered how to spell whazoo. Anyway, you’re not forgiven, so check your impertinence. Recently unmarried, two kids, a mortgage out my derriere that the ex is footing, a good job with an asshole boss. If this is you, John, my boss is an angel!

BrodskyBent: LOL. Not a John. (Not implying you’re a you know what, either.) So, are you 35 as your screen name implies?

CurliQue35: 36 now. A year older and poorer. You know my marital status, what’s yours?

BrodskyBent: I shall not lie. Attached white male, two kids, both in high school. I live in Towson. You live in Frederick.

CurliQue35: I know where I live. It’s not an invitation.

BrodskyBent: I’m starting to feel unloved here. Maybe I should go pester another single mother.

CurliQue35: Sighhhhhhh. I’m sorry. You seem harmless enough. Maybe I’m just being hormonal.

BrodskyBent: Is that an admission of physical unapproachability?

CurliQue35: That’s a description I’ve never heard before. But yes. Right in the middle of it.

BrodskyBent: That’s too bad. My significant other’s hormonal also.

CurliQue35: Poor baby. Is your significant aware of your cyber-wanderings?

BrodskyBent: No, and don’t you tell her, either, LOL.

CurliQue35: My cyber-lips are sealed.

BrodskyBent: Thank you. So, are you available? Would you like a pic? It’s the real me, and very recent.

CurliQue35: Available for what? I probably shouldn’t ask that. Ok, send your pic. The worst I’ll do is cyber-tear it up.

BrodskyBent: Gee thanks. Here it comes now. Do I get one in return?

CurliQue35: Yes. But don’t ask for anything in the nude. I’ll hang up on you if you ask for anything in the nude.

BrodskyBent: Nada. But that sounds like an admission of nude photography if I ever heard one, LOL.

CurliQue35: Smart ass. Hmmm. Not bad. I like a man in glasses.

BrodskyBent: I’m a little thin up top. That pic doesn’t really show it, but I want to be honest.

CurliQue35: Honesty appreciated.

BrodskyBent: Wow. You’re really good-looking. I’m intimidated now. Pretty soon I’ll stat mystiping wurds and fallng all ovr miself.

CurliQue35: LOL. No man as attractive as you has problems with women.

BrodskyBent: Here that Bowser? She thinks I’m attractive.

CurliQue35: Bowser better be your dog, Sir. I don’t like men who give their members names, especially not K-9 names.

BrodskyBent: Oops. It won’t happen again.

CurliQue35: Okay. Listen, someone here. Have to go now, sorry.

BrodskyBent: Can I e-mail you?

CurliQue35: If you like. Bye.

It wasn’t so much that Mom sounded like a ball-buster, which she certainly did, or that she was online in an AOL chat-room; what rocked me was that she doesn’t have a computer. That meant the exchange either took place at her work, or here at home on either my brother’s or my computer.

* * *


“Yes, Sweetie.” She looked up from the Grands biscuits she was arranging on a cookie sheet and faced me. Hair had escaped from her barrette and hung loose over her left cheek. She absently blew it away.

“Are you seeing someone?” I asked.

She blinked, then grinned sheepishly. “Well, sort of. Nothing serious, though. Why do you ask?”

I kept my tone level. “You didn’t say anything about it. Usually you let me know first.” I was still touchy about Dad and reproach tinged my voice. I felt a sting of tears. Shit, Jenna, I thought, stop that shit.

She sighed and wiped her hands on a dish-towel. escort bayan “Honey, I’m not going out with him. So far, it’s only e-mail and a little bit of chat.” Her grin grew embarrassed “Or am I too old for that?”

“Mom!” I complained, but felt better all the same. “Do you really like him?”

She half-shrugged, half-nodded. “Sort of. I can’t really tell. I don’t understand the situation yet.”

What’s to understand? I wondered. He wants to ball you. I asked, “Is he married?”

She sighed again. “Jenna.”

“Mom!” I cried, and ran upstairs to my room.

* * *

I know crying is stupid. I’m eighteen years old, and old enough to know better, but I miss Dad and I want it back to normal. Even if “normal” was fighting all the time and throwing things around their bedroom and Dad hitting Mom once and cheating on her at least twice. As a child you tend to forget those things–or at least to ignore them. My brother distrusts my dad and worships the ground Mom walks on. It’s the opposite for me, as it is with all my friends who’ve been through a divorce. Sons side with their mothers and daughters always side with their dads. Stupid, but true.

“You okay?” he asked.

It was ten o’clock, two days later and we were alone in the house. He was massaging my neck. My migraine was ferocious and I’d taken an Imitrex but it wasn’t helping yet. “No,” I said miserably.

“You want to talk about it?”



I turned over and he removed his hands. James is my twin brother and my best friend. He spends hours with me when I’m in pain, but we have a problematic relationship and we have to be careful. “How can you defend her?” I demanded.

“Jenna,” he repeated.

“Jimmy, she’s a whore.” He stiffened and I said apologetically, “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He rolled me back onto my stomach, returned to the soft kneading of my neck muscles, making me groan in pain. It was a bad attack though, and he knew better than stop. “What makes her any different than you or me?” he asked.

“She’s my mother.”

“She’s a female,” he said. “Female’s need attention. Or hadn’t you noticed that, Jenna?”

“I’m not asking you to fuck me,” I said belligerently.

“I’m not offering to.”

I was experiencing a more intense desire for James than I’d felt in a long, long time. We had never had sex, never really even come close, but there was always that understanding that we could. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” I repeated.

“It’s okay. Tell me exactly what she said.”

I related the gist of the transcript, then told him to go get it. It was still there, or at least it had been that afternoon. He settled down to read it. “Seems pretty innocent to me.”

“It’s what they’re not saying,” I complained.

He laughed. “How can you not say something in an IM. It’s hard enough not to be misunderstood. Besides, this is tame compared to what I write.”

“You’re not thirty-seven with two kids.”

“Thirty-six,” he corrected. “And her two kids are grown.”

“Stop defending her.”

He massaged my shoulders, then moved to my shoulder blades, which didn’t hurt so much, then to my spine, which did. I moaned appreciatively. The Imitrex was finally kicking in.

“Take off my top,” I said. I raised enough for him to pull it over my head. I reached behind with my right hand and released my bra strap. It popped loose to both sides. He stopped rubbing.

“It’s fine,” I said. “I’m not trying to seduce you.” I was comfortable with this level of undress as long as I hurt this bad. Problem was, I didn’t hurt this bad. In fact, the headache was leaving like a burning-off mist.

“We should stop,” he said.

“Don’t. Please.” Because he deserved it, I told the truth. “I shouldn’t be letting you do this, but I want you to, because I like it. Just rub me until my headache’s gone, and I’ll button back up. Okay?”

“Okay.” He straddled my buttocks and laid it on with both hands, giving me a tremendous massage. Two or three minutes into it he developed a tremendous erection, and that was fine too. I was certainly aroused myself.



“Do you think we ever will?”

He breathed heavily through his open mouth. “I’m damned-near ready to now, Jenn. altıparmak escort bayan You’re killing me.”

I grinned into the mattress. “A girl should have the upper hand with her brother.”

I expected a deserved smack on the rear, but it didn’t come. His hands worked the small of my back, went up to my neck again, then slid down along my sides.



“I want to have sex with you.”

“I want to have sex with you too.”

“Should we?”

He rested on my butt. His hands were on his thighs. Both of us knew I wanted it because of Mom. “Not like this,” he said.

I reached back, found the ends of my bra strap and hooked them up. He climbed off and handed my top, which I put on. I had never felt so frustrated in my life. “Thank you,” I said, standing on tiptoe and kissing him on the cheek. “You’re a good brother.”

“Don’t mention it.” He whacked my butt so hard I yelped.

* * *

Three days later, I again raided my mother’s bedroom. Beneath the mattress was a four page transcript. I read nervously.

BrodskyBent: Still at work?

CurliQue35: Yes, I was afraid you wouldn’t make it.

BrodskyBent: Anyone there?

CurliQue35: Just me and the closed-circuit cameras, LOL.

BrodskyBent: No diddling yourself at the keyboard, then.

CurliQue35: I would never do that!

BrodskyBent: Certainly not.

CurliQue35: I have to get myself a laptop. I should be at home, doing this in my bedroom.

BrodskyBent: Good idea. You could diddle yourself in comfort.

CurliQue35: That’s not what I meant.

BrodskyBent: Did you tell Jenna yet?

CurliQue35: That we had sex? Are you nuts?

BrodskyBent: That we’re seeing each other.

CurliQue35: Oh. Duh. No.

BrodskyBent: She has a right to know. She asked, after all.

CurliQue35: You tell her then.

BrodskyBent: Right. Let’s drop the subject. Did you enjoy the other night?

BrodskyBent: Val?

CurliQue35: I’m angry.

BrodskyBent: Why?

CurliQue35: You are such a man.

BrodskyBent: That’s not a compliment, is it?

CurliQue35: Sharp, as well.

BrodskyBent: Come on. We agreed to talk about things.

CurliQue35: You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just confused. You experience this from a distance; I handle it up close every day. James takes things pretty much in stride, but Jenna has rolled this huge boulder out between us that I can’t get around. I can barely even see around it most of the time. I’m afraid she’ll do something stupid just to hurt me. I did at her age.

BrodskyBent: Jenn is a very smart girl. And she has her brother to go to if things get bad.

CurliQue35: That’s what I’m talking about.

BrodskyBent: I’m sure you’re imagining things.

CurliQue35: I pray so. It might run in the family.

Reading someone else’s IM’s can be very confusing. I was already bewildered by the conversation; the sudden shift in subject confused me even more. Then I realized it was another session altogether, copied right after the first.

BrodskyBent: Ding-Dong

CurliQue35: Who’s there.

BrodskyBent: Open the door and you’ll find out, little girl.

CurliQue35: Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinooooooooo!!

BrodskyBent: LOL. Home or at work?

CurliQue35: Work.

BrodskyBent: I thought you were going to get a laptop.

CurliQue35: I did, but I haven’t hooked it up yet. I haven’t even installed AOL on it. I will tomorrow night though, or maybe even tonight.

BrodskyBent: I should let you go then. You could be much more uninhibited with me at home.

CurliQue35: Tisk-tisk. You are such a man. Always and foremost: sex-sex-sex.

BrodskyBent: But you like it. Wearing panties tonight?

CurliQue35: You know I am.

BrodskyBent: A thong?

CurliQue35: Possibly.

BrodskyBent: No panty lines beneath your skirt?


BrodskyBent: I’d like to remove that skirt, Valerie.

CurliQue35: Careful, now, Mister.

BrodskyBent: I’ll be careful, don’t you worry.

CurliQue35: That’s not what I meant. But at least it wouldn’t get all wrinkled this time.

BrodskyBent: Not my fault it got wrinkled. You could have nilüfer eskort taken it off.

CurliQue35: I tried to take it off, remember?

BrodskyBent: Oh, yeah. Sorry.

CurliQue35: I’ll grin you, you bastard. Do you know I’m still sore? Three days later?

BrodskyBent: Are you complaining?

CurliQue35: No. Just embarrassed.

* * *

James said, “Okay, so they had sex. So what?”

I snatched the papers from his hand. “James! He’s married. He’s got kids our age. She’s gonna break up his marriage!” He rolled his eyes at me, just stoking my anger. “I can’t believe you’re taking her side!” I cried.

He tried to shush me.

“I will not be quiet!” I yelled. “She’s–“

He shut me up with a hand behind my head and the other over my mouth. I stared at him, wide-eyed. “Do you not get anything?” he asked.


He took his hand off my mouth. “It might run in the family,” he said.

I stared at him, bewildered. He pointed out what Mom had said. “So?”

“So? Ever wonder why she and Uncle Robert are so weird around each other?”

I stood there and blinked. “You don’t mean . . .?” He rolled his eyes again. “Stop that,” I said, irritably. “You know I hate that.” I read the lines more carefully. “This doesn’t mean anything, James.”

“Now who’s in denial?”

“Cut it out,” I said sulkily.

“Look. Mom’s mother and dad got divorced when she was sixteen. Just like us. Mom and Uncle Robert are fraternal twins. Just like us, Don’t you think that’s kind of a genetic thing? Mom and her brother? You and me?”

I blushed at the very thought of Mom and Uncle Robert together. But then again, we almost had. I breathed deeply and slowly. “Are you suggesting that you and I are . . .?”

“Are what?” he asked, mystified. Then It was his turn to be shocked.

* * *

The following night in the kitchen I asked my mother point blank: “Are you and Uncle Robert having sex?”

She dropped the two glasses in her hand and they both shattered on the floor. “Am I what?” she croaked.

I stood my ground. “Are you and Uncle Robert having sex?”

She looked at me with every emotion possible twisting her face. She laughed and hiccuped at the same time and gripped her mouth convulsively. “Of course not!” she spat out. “How can you ask such a thing?”

I held out the transcript.

“Where did you get that?”

Very slowly, through clenched teeth, I said, “Tell me about Uncle Robert.” And she did.

* * *

James asked in disbelief. “It’s Dad?”

I laughed softly. “Uh-huh.”

He read every line of the transcript. “I can’t believe it.”

“It’s been going on quite a while,” I said. “Most of this is bullshit.”

What Mom had told me was this: Three months ago, Dad had surreptitiously contacted her online. He pretended to be a married man from Baltimore, with kids her own age, interested in having cyber. The ruse held up exactly one week, when she had caught him out.

She was furious, of course, but also relieved. It meant there was hope. Rather than give me false hope, they had kept the relationship under wraps, letting it develop gradually. Last week they had had their first date, ending is sex. I had read about it in the transcript.

“So they’re going out tonight?” he asked.

“Yes, but you’re not supposed to know. Mom wants to spring it on you herself.”

“That’s some spring,” he said. “And this shit from the first transcript?”

“Cyber-games,” I said. “Them having fun. You know adults.”

He laughed. Then he sobered. “What about her and Uncle Robert?”

I took the transcripts from his hand and ripped them into little pieces. “Some things,” I said, peeling out of my tee-shirt and unsnapping my bra, “are better experienced, than described.”

It really does run in the family.


Note: The idea (and the title) for this little story was inspired by the catch-phrase of an ad for a certain website. The website id called “MILF Hunters,” (Mothers I’d Like to Fuck) and of course it’s very demeaning to women. But it’s also kind of charming, the notion of us Soccer Moms being pursued for what we are. The ad has been at the top of the main story page of Literotica for as long as I can remember, LOL.

To be truthful, I had a lot of trouble with this story. Jenna was originally a boy, then a single female child, then one of a pair of twin sisters. Nothing worked until I tried Jenna and James, then it clicked. The plot kept changing also, which didn’t help. I’m still unhappy with it, but oh, well

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