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A young woman and her mentor.

I didn't like that situation, since my existence made it impossible for her to have a real life of her own.

Likewise, whenever Mom ticked me off, I wasn't going anywhere, and would have to ride out the storm. That's what happens, I guess. We were stuck with each other. Of course, she could have been like the old man and just said fuck it, thrown me in an institution and hit the road, but that's not Mom.

So when Mom reappeared an hour or so later, it was not unexpected. I had managed to clean up the mess that I had made, and was watching Rodney Moore get his cock sucked by a cute Hairy Horny Girl when Mom came in, avoiding eye contact as she did a little housekeeping.

"Mom," I said, putting Rodney and his furry friend aside for the moment. "Can we talk?"

Mom stopped what she was doing and stood there, giving me one of those "what's the matter with kids today?" expressions. Hands on hips, she waited for me to continue.

"I asked if we could talk," I said. "Not just me."

"What is it Jeff? Are you going to apologize? Do you think that there is anything you could say about what you did that would make it all go away?"

"No," I admitted. "But I wasn't going to apologize. Just the opposite. If I hurt your hand I'm sorry, but as for what we did, I'm not sorry. Not at all. As a matter of fact I was going to thank you for giving me the greatest orgasm I've ever had."

"What?" Mom asked, and when I asked her to sit down I was surprised when she slid into the chair next to the bed.

"I've wanted you to touch me like that forever," I told Mom. "I mean, I know it wasn't by your choice that your hands were on my cock, but just the same. That woman - what's her name - the one that sucked my cock before?

"Tammy," Mom whispered.

"Whatever. It was good, don't get me wrong, but as far as enjoying it, what you and I did after that was so much better that it isn't funny."

"That was wrong," Mom said, and I knew that the tears welling in her eyes were just about to start rolling down her cheeks. "What you did was wrong. Mothers don't..."

"Mothers don't get abandoned by their worthless husbands and aren't stuck taking care of a gimp all by themselves," I spat out, waving off her efforts to stop me. "Mothers deserve love and affection, and they need sex too. They need to get laid just like guys do."

"This Internet," Mom said, clearly flustered by the topic of conversation and my language. "It has you thinking about sex all the time."

"Maybe," I admitted. "What else do you want me to think about? Going to the prom? Playing center field for the Braves?"

"You should do some more writing," Mom suggested. "Remember when you wrote that piece that they printed in The Pennysaver? I remember when you used to let me read some of the other stories you wrote. You remember? The baseball ones?"

"Yeah, I remember," I said, recalling the short stories I wrote about Jeff Green, the high school sports star I would never be. "You want to read something I wrote the other day?"

"Of course I would," Mom said, smiling as she did her part to encourage her son's hobbies as well as desperately trying to change the subject.

"Look in the drawer next to the computer," I said, and as Mom got up and I got myself into a sitting position. "The one in the blue folder, marked 'Dream Girl'."

It was something I had written a few weeks ago and printed it up, hoping that I would get up the courage to show it to her. Given the events of the evening, I figured that this might be a good time.

"What is this about?" Mom asked as she fanned the pages of my little story.

"Just read it Mom." I said. "Aloud."

"On the television the game had just ended when Mom entered my bedroom, much like she had on thousands of other occasions," my mother read. "This time however, the woman who had taken care of me my entire life, and who had stayed by my side all the while others had deserted me, had a strange look in her eye.

"Jeff," the most beautiful woman in the world said to me as she turned off the TV and came to my bedside.

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