A Mold of Mom

If you’re reading this, you already know I’m not normal. You probably think I’m worse than that—some kind of pervert, a creep, maybe even a criminal. You’d be wrong about that last part. I keep every receipt, and the only thing I’ve ever stolen is a secret, the kind that most people are too scared to admit even to themselves.

The letter came on my first night in the new back when I moved home. Mom’s handwriting is unmistakable—loopy, slanted, a little too neat for someone who’s always a mess. She’d left it in my sock drawer, of all places. The last place anyone looks unless they’re desperate or just moved in.

To Tom,

Enjoy your stay, it’s good to have you back, I’ve missed you and been lonely since your Dad left. If you need anything please help yourself and don’t feel the need to wake me up

Mom x

I must’ve read it a hundred times before I let myself believe it was real. It had to be a joke, some kind of trap, what does it mean?

But Mom—my Mom, my secret obsession, the woman I’d been jerking off over since she first padded barefoot down the hall in nothing but a t-shirt and panties—she doesn’t do jokes like this. Not unless she means them.

I spent that whole first night lying in bed, staring at the letter on my chest, heart hammering, cock like a fucking stone under my sheets. My mind ran wild—scenarios, ideas, a thousand filthy “what ifs” swirling in the dark.

I could touch her. I could do anything. She’d let me….or does she mean the fridge? Hmmmm..

And that’s when it started. Not the filth—not yet. That would come later, like rot working its way up from the roots. No, what started that night was the freedom. The sweet, dangerous freedom of knowing that for the first time, my dirtiest thought were fair game and if it was a misunderstanding it’d be too late – win win for me

I fell asleep with the letter pressed to my heart, drifting slowly to sleep and wondering what could be.

By dawn, I already knew what I’d do.