Eddie can very clearly remember when he first thought of his mother as an object of his desire. Oddly, it wasn't even his idea: it was his father's. Eddie normally didn't get along very well with his father, who often seemed cold and distant. But he was secretly very grateful for everything his father taught him that day.
Eddie's father had taken him out for a father-son camping trip. The camping trip wasn't his father's idea, but was Eddie's. It was Eddie's mother, Patricia, who cajoled her husband into taking their son out for the trip. It was to be a short overnight stay in the mountains. Once they got to the camp site and set up, Eddie's father had started into the liquor, and shortly became fairly drunk. Eddie had heard that drunk people told no lies, so he started testing the situation by asking his father questions about Eddie's favorite topic: women.
It didn't take long for Eddie's father to become visibly frustrated, and start into a long, rambling, drunken lecture about what women want. At least it started out that way, but Eddie quickly realized that it was actually about his mother.
David was bitchy as hell. He was playing some sort of videogame in the next room and I was trying to study. I told him to shut up like 17 times, and he would, but five minutes later, he was yelling again. Something about campers and newb-tubes or whatever. I wasn't even paying attention any more. I just knew I lost my concentration every time he screamed.
"Mom!" I yelled into the phone after dialing her number. "I'm trying to study! And Dave's in the next room screaming at some random idiots online! When are you guys gonna be back!?"
Mom and Aunt Clarissa were in Minneapolis, shopping. They'd left that morning, leaving Dave with me to play his games. They told us to fend for ourselves and drove off.
"We're gonna be back tomorrow. Probably in the afternoon. We told you that six times."
"But I have to study!"
"You're a big girl, Beth. You're sixteen. He's fifteen. You should both be mature enough to settle this. Handle it."
It was my eighteenth birthday and here I sat twiddling my thumbs, I should have been having a party, but mum couldn't afford it. I should have been going out, but I couldn't afford it. My not so little sister and mum had vanished into the kitchen nearly an hour before to cook up a birthday surprise, but I felt so frustrated that I was not looking forward to it. Things had gone downhill, money-wise, since dad had walked out six months ago, he'd been in touch just once since he'd left and that had been to pick up some things he had forgotten to take. I suppose that his forgetting my birthday didn't help my mood any either.
Mind you I couldn't blame mum for his departure, in any man's book she was a looker even at forty. Why dad left was known only to him and he wasn't about to talk. My sister, who was a year younger than me, was a younger version of mum, maybe not quite so pretty, but still pleasant to look at. I was a little surprised at the tone of my thoughts towards my mother and sister and could only put it down to the fact that my girlfriend Dawn had not only refused my advances over the past few weeks, but also had finally given me the elbow the night before.
"Happy birthday Mark." My mother's voice said from the living room doorway.
I had regretted agreeing to help my older sister out, but a promise was a promise so here was stuck in her living room being stared at by her two sons while she flustered about the room.
"I've left the number where I can be reached by the phone," Maud said for the umpteenth time "there's plenty of food in the..."
"Look Maud," I sighed in exasperation "you've been through this a hundred times already, you will only be gone a week, what the hell can happen in a week?"
Half an hour later Maud finally left the house while her boys, Tom and Clive grinned at each other. I must admit that I had no great liking for kids which was probably why I was still single at twenty-eight, unlike Maud who had wed at seventeen, had her first kid at eighteen and her second at nineteen. She'd still be having them if it hadn't been for the fact that her husband had decided two was enough and gone and got himself doctored. So there I was, stuck for a whole week with two boys, one fifteen years old the other fourteen, who seemed to do nothing but stare at me.
"What?" I asked angrily.
"Your pretty aunt Glenda." Tom smiled in reply.
His response rather took the wind from me, my anger faded and I felt a little flattered to think that the boys found me attractive, even if I do say it myself I have a good body and a face that men find appealing.
"Uh, thank you Tom." I muttered at last.
Jake Carlton awoke from sleep when he heard a noise in his bedroom. He sat bolt upright and peered into the darkened room.
The seventeen year old boy was pissed. Who would be disturbing his slumber in the middle of the night?
He had been having another wet dream about fucking his hot mother, Jane Carlton, when he'd been rudely interrupted by a distrubance in the room.
In his dream, his mother desired him badly and had offered herself tp her young son. And she was obeying his every whim. It had been a very vivid and real dream and Jake had awoken with an aching erection.
I was bored out of my skull, it was a Friday night and I should have been out enjoying myself, but everything had gone wrong that day, first the party one of my mates at school was giving was cancelled, then I discovered that most of the crowd I hung around with had been collared by their parents to do various things. So I was forced to stay home, across the room my twin brother was looking as bored as I was, not that he looked like me at all, we weren't identical twins just born within a minute of each other, me being the oldest by that minute. There we sat, two fifteen year old boys, and there sat our eighteen year old sister who had been assigned to baby sit by our parents who had gone off for a long (and I suspected dirty) weekend. Don't get me wrong, I love my sister and I think she's a dishy bird, but at fifteen I felt a bit miffed that my parents thought a baby sitter necessary.
"What's on the box Pete?" I asked my brother.
He picked up the telly guide, glanced through the listings and sighed.
"Bugger all." he replied.
"Andy," my sister said, "why don't you read a book or something."
"I don't feel like reading Becky." I replied.
"So what do you fancy?" she said sharply.
"Hell," I grinned, "I don't know, but sitting here doing bugger all is not my idea of fun."
"Put a video on." She suggested.