Unspoken Pleasure

Mom made a big bowl of popcorn and we sat on the living room couch. She clicked on the TV and scrolled through the options. With Dad, watching TV was easy: we just chose hockey. And if hockey wasn't on, we watched recordings of hockey. Easy peasy. Mom was way pickier.

But when she found Bridesmaids in the menu, she stopped. My mother was not a very 'outward' woman. She was not one of those people going to wild parties, even when she was younger. She'd been a drama geek in college and, as she explained it, was probably the last person you'd think would end up accidentally pregnant.

Mom didn't wear revealing clothes. She liked safe music that I would describe as 'Mom Rock.' She rarely ever cursed. Her one secret was that she loved, loved, raunchy comedies. It was like finding out your pastor was a huge metalhead or that grandma was a grand champion at League of Legends. It was completely out of character, but that didn't make it any less Mom.

"What do you say?" Mom asked. Honestly, it seemed perfect for the mood I was in. I agreed, and Mom clicked play.

I'd seen the movie a few times, but I still found myself getting into it. When we got to the classic bathroom scene, Mom and I laughed so hard that tears rolled down our cheeks. We watched the rest of the movie, both lying back like we were in physical pain from our hysterics.

"See, don't you feel better?" Mom asked as she clicked off the TV. I had to concede that I did.

*

The next morning, however, the blues slipped back into my brain. I spent most of my day in bed, unsure of what Mom was up to. To her credit, she left me be. I think she understood that I needed some mourning time.

At the end of the day, she knocked on my door. I'd been lying around in boxers all day, so I scrambled to pull my shirt on. Mom came in while I was still getting dressed. She started to speak, then stuttered.

"Hi, I was..." Mom froze, staring at my chest.

I'd been playing hockey since freshman year of high school. It was Dad's thing, so I practically had to join up. The fact that Mom hated me playing was just an added benefit at the time.

I wasn't a world beater at hockey, but I was good enough to get a scholarship. I knew I wasn't going to be a star -- I was on the third line at a two-star program -- but whatever. It was D1 and a free education and I was going to make the most of that. Plus, I figured I'd end up with lots of cool stories about getting checked into the boards by some future NHL stars.

In any case, hockey is a full body sport. It's not like baseball where you can have a big gut and still hit 98 on the radar gun. Skating gets your legs in incredible shape, but you need upper body strength, too. And playing in college had taken me to a whole new level. I hadn't even had a full year of training, but I was already in the best shape of my life.

I guess I was pretty cut, is what I'm saying. And Mom noticed. She stayed stuck in place, staring at me half-shirtless. I knew that Mom didn't want to see her son naked, but I didn't realize she'd be that upset.

"Sorry," I said, sheepish, and finished pulling down my shirt.

"It's fine," Mom said, "Just warn me next time."

Again, I apologized. "So, what's up?"

"I wanted to see how you're doing," Mom said.

"Oh. I'm OK," I said. I flopped back down on the bed.

"Sure you are," Mom said, a smirk sneaking across her face. "I was thinking I could make dinner and we could watch another movie."

I looked back at my bed. All I wanted to do was crawl under the covers. But I heard my stomach growl, and I knew I needed to eat.

I went downstairs and helped Mom make dinner. It had been a long time since we worked on a project together like that and it was fun. Like having an old friend back.

After we ate, again, we stood over the sink and washed the dishes. At one point, I dropped a big serving dish in the soapy water, and it splashed up, soaking Mom's chest. I looked over and saw a bit of her tit through her wet, white tank top. Mom wasn't huge chested. She had nice-sized breasts. Honestly, I hadn't thought about them until that moment. Now, they were all I could see.

Mom looked over at me staring, then down at her chest. She frowned.

"Sorry," I said.

Mom's mouth twisted. "I'll go change," she said, "Next time be more careful, OK?"

Mom came back in a long, lime green sleep shirt that went down to her knees. For a moment, the thought that she might not be wearing underwear under that outfit slipped into my mind, unbidden. What was wrong with me? Back home for less than a month and I was already going full pervert? Mom wasn't a sexual being, she was my mother. But something about that shapeless, long shirt was totally arousing. I can't explain exactly why.

When we finished the dishes, we went back to the couch and Mom picked out another over-the-top comedy. This time, she went for an old one called Airplane.

"Your grandmother used to love this one," Mom said.

Almost immediately, I realized that Grandma was a very different woman than I'd realized. Airplane was filthy. Full of dirty, inappropriate humor. I'd thought the world was getting more liberal, but that movie had bits in it that no one would dare perform in 2020.Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

Then there were the sex jokes. At one point, a topless woman showed up on screen for no reason, breasts flying around. I looked over at Mom and she shrugged like it was nothing. Another scene was an extended blowjob gag where Julie Hagerty had to give oral to the autopilot balloon to keep it inflated. Mom giggled like crazy through the whole scene.

Again, I had to recalibrate my thinking. I knew Mom had sex. Duh, she had me. But the idea that Mom could find oral sex funny implied that she performed oral sex and that kind of blew my brain. Rationally, of course, these revelations were stupid. But some part of me hadn't ever processed the idea, quite the opposite, and the reshuffle left me rustled.

When the movie was over, again, Mom and I were lying back on the couch all laughed out. Once again, I went to bed feeling way better.

The next few days, we found ourselves falling into a routine. Most of the day, we kept to ourselves. I stayed in my room playing videogames and attending virtual classes. Mom did Mom stuff. Mostly gardening or cleaning the house. It's not like she could even go out shopping (we had the groceries delivered to our door). Around 4pm, we'd come out of our respective corners, make ourselves a nice meal, and finish off with a racy comedy.