Coming to Terms Ch. 01


Big Tits

Writer’s note: I would like to thank Pro_Ball_Player, a writer, for inspiring me to write my own erotica stories. I would also like to thank Mistress Penelope, my editor, for her assistance in getting my stories to be acceptable for submittal.

This is a story involving a coming of age incestuous relationship between and mother and her daughter. I have chosen the common surname, Jones, to be applied to this pair. Any similarities between events in my fictional story and someone’s experience in the real world are purely coincidental. Incest is frowned upon in society and is used in this story for fictional purposes only.


Chapter 01

My name is Monica Jones and my mom’s name is Kayla. I had never been close to my mother. We weren’t enemies, we didn’t get into fights. We just weren’t close. My Dad walked out on us, actually me, when Mom was pregnant with me. He was a liar and treated Mom poorly. When he found out that Mom was pregnant he split. Mom did a great job of raising me by herself. She put herself through college, started her own business and still runs the business to this day. We’re never at want for anything; we always have money and a good lifestyle because of Mom’s business. That’s part of the problem though. She spends all of her time at the office, or at meeting, or out-of-town. She never really spends time with me. She’s notorious for missing birthdays. In fact she’s two weeks late in recognizing that I turned 18.

Usually skipping birthdays didn’t bother me. She always remembered the day afterwards and got me an extra present as a way of saying that she was sorry. But this time, for my 18th birthday, I thought it was going to be special. This time I was hurt.

The confrontation finally hit when we shared a dinner together; we rarely did that anymore.

“Monica, is everything okay? You seem out-of-sorts.”

“No Mom, everything is NOT okay.” I started yelling at her. “You spend too much damn time at work and not enough time here. My 18th birthday was two weeks ago. TWO WEEKS and I don’t hear even a ‘happy birthday’ from you. I’m glad you finally noticed that I’m out-of sorts.”

With that I stormed off to my room and slammed the door. I cranked the stereo and a few minutes later I heard Mom banging on my door.

“Honey I’m so sorry” she repeated over and over again.

I let her stammer on for a while then turned off the stereo. I opened the door to notice that she was crying. She dropped to her knees begging me “I am so sorry sweetie, I’m a bad mother. Can we talk?”

We headed down to the living room. The ‘argument’ lasted long. It started out angry but cooled down as we were discussing things. It ended well; I was right and Mom knew it. Then she did something that I have never seen her do before.

She called her Vice President and said “Effective immediately I am on vacation. I’ll be back in two weeks. Handle all of my calls when I am gone. Only in the most severe emergencies are you to contact me.”

Her next call was to her travel agent. “Hi Tom, listen, I need two tickets to Miami. I want to depart tomorrow or the day after that and not return for another 7 days. The second ticket is for Monica, and yes, make sure that they’re first class.”

Wow, Mom was sure making up for her error in spades. “Are we really going to Miami?” I asked her.

“Yes,” she responded, “I’m long overdue in spending any quality time with you. It occurred to me during our discussion that I really don’t know you as a person. I know you as a daughter, I know what you like to eat, what you like to wear, where you hang out, and who your friends are. I want to spend time with you in Miami so that we can get to know one-another. This may sound a little lame right now, but ‘Happy Birthday Dear.’ Let’s head out to a movie.”

I declined the movie invitation. I was too excited about going to Miami.

“Mom, I think I’d rather stay home and start packing. I’ve got some laundry to get caught up with.” I said.

I was kind of nervous. I had never spent so much time with Mom at once and didn’t know how we would fill the time. We never really talked that much and I was worried about that. We started packing that evening and completed the rest of the packing in the morning. It was a relaxed day at home so far. At 2:30, the company car pulled into our driveway. Mom hated paying for taxis and for long-term airport parking. She always had someone from her office drive her to the airport. This time Dennis Thompson, the company Vice President, picked us up. Mom sat shotgun and they went over company notes during the forty-five minute trip. He was set-up to take the reigns of the company while we were out-of-town.

Getting through the airport was a hassle. I couldn’t believe that Mom had done this so many times and yet was willing to go through that crap again. As we took our seats I asked, “Mom, is getting through those lines and security always so awful?”

She smirked and responded “Not always, I’ll make it up Gaziantep Mutlu Son Escort to you. Did you want an adult drink on the flight?”

I shook my head ‘yes,’ and she said, “Okay, I’ll sneak you one when we’re airborne.

The white zinfandel was good. Since this was my first flight, Mom made sure I was treated well. I felt like I was a Princess, or a Lady being given such wonderful treatment. Our flight to Miami from New York was about 2 and-a-half hours long. We didn’t get much turbulence so the flight went smooth. After getting our luggage we noticed the limo driver’s sign stating ‘Jones’ and we were off to the hotel. Mom got us a beachfront room at a five-start hotel. The accommodations were beautiful. Actually, they were perfect. I checked the concierge desk and found out that the weather would be wonderful for the week as well.

“We can work on our tans,” I thought.

Arriving late in the evening we decided to take turns using the whirl-pool bathtub before getting dressed for bed. I gave Mom a hug thanking her for the surprise birthday gift. I told her I loved her and wished her ‘good night.’

Waking up the next day, we had a great breakfast and then I made a decision.

“Mom, after I breakfast, can we both get one of those fancy spa treatments?”

She thought that was wonderful idea and called the concierge to make arrangements. The soonest we could get in would be at 1:00 just after lunch. In the meantime Mom suggested that we head out for some shopping.

Walking up-and-down the South Florida outdoor shopping area amongst the palm trees and other tropical plants was a much welcome change of pace. It sure beat the usual stops in New York. We didn’t feel like buying much; we enjoyed looking at what the shops had to offer and took mental notes. We also didn’t notice time passing; we were caught up in our own thoughts and taking in the sights. It was soon time to grab lunch and head back to the hotel. We chose a Cuban-style restaurant and treated ourselves to some local cuisine.

The odd part of spending this time with Mom was that we really weren’t talking too much. It wasn’t uncomfortable; it was just odd. We were two people hanging out, but lost in our own thoughts. After the relaxing spa treatment we headed to our room. Mom just wanted to sit on the balcony looking at the ocean while sipping drinks. I asked if I could join her in relaxing on the balcony with some drinks as well. She said sure and we began our soothing afternoon in the sun.

The view was perfect. The drinks were good. Mom made mine a little bit weaker than hers, but beggars can’t be choosers.

As the afternoon leisurely passed, the silence began to wear on me.

“Mom, can I give you a penny for your thoughts?” There was a long pause before she answered.

“Monica, my thoughts have been bothering me all day. Actually they’ve been bothering me since the other night after you went off on me for forgetting your 18th birthday…. Honey, am I bad mother?”

“Mom, you’re not a bad mother. You raised me by yourself and started up your company from nothing. It’s successful and you have a staff of three dozen employees. The odds were stacked against you in doing any of those things successfully. You managed to do both, and at the same time. On the other hand we rarely spend any time together. You’re always at the office. When you’re at home you’re in your home-office handling calls and taking care of more business. On the weekends, when you do have free time, you’re always going out. Sometimes, when growing up I felt that I was on the back burner and low on your priorities. Mom, I love you. I’ve never wanted for anything. The money your company makes gives us everything we need in terms of creature comforts and the basic necessities. We’re clothed, fed, and sheltered. After that, what do we really have?”

Mom was in tears and that wasn’t my intent. She’s a good person and just lives a way too busy lifestyle. In this moment I had to take a chance at building a relationship with her. If our cycle of not really having a mother/daughter relationship was ever going to change, it would have to start now.

“Mom, please don’t cry. I don’t mean to hurt you or cause you to tears. I know that you love me and want you to know that I love you.”

“Monica, I’m so sorry. I’ve built a life always being on the go… always doing many things at once. I’m making this promise to you right now. I’m going to take time, every week, to spend with you. My cell phone will be off. There won’t be any distractions. It’ll be just us.”

Then she started crying again. Her crying got me crying and I moved over to join her on her lounge chair. We both sat for some time on the balcony hugging each other and crying on each other’s shoulders.

Later that evening, rather than heading out anywhere, we called in our dinner orders to room service. Dinner was delivered about a half-an-hour later and Mom let me have wine too.

After dinner, mom started asking me about my plans for college. I stated that I wanted to get my general education courses done at the local community college and then transfer the credits over to the State University. I told her that I might be a ‘chip off the old block’ and that I was leaning towards getting a Bachelors of Science in Business/Communication. She was happy to hear that but warned me about the hours needed to run a business. I really didn’t need a reminder. I told her that I wanted to minor in web development. She said that if I could learn that quickly she might hire me to revamp her company web site. She also suggested that she has some entry level positions opening up and that she could hire me as an intern for additional college credit.

I asked her if that would create animosity in the work place. She said it might but that was for her to deal with. As long as I showed up on time and did my job properly I wouldn’t have anything to worry about.

She seemed impressed with the direction I was headed stating that many girls my age don’t have a clue about what they want to do.

“So, what about the boys? A good looking girl like you probably gets her pick of the crop.”

Oh crap, there it as, the question I was dreading. I got up to get the bottle of wine and re-filled her glass. Setting the wine bottle down, I took a seat next to her and said, “About the boys… I’m not sure that’s the right question. You don’t have to be alerted to anything. I’m not pregnant and I don’t have any diseases. Aside from fooling around here-and-there I haven’t really had sex. I’m a virgin… but here’s the thing, I honestly don’t think I’m in to guys. I think I’m a lesbian.”

She just sat and stared. She didn’t look mad, happy, angry, or anything. It was just a blank look.

“Mom, are you okay. Did you hear what I said?”

“I did honey, I just don’t know what to say…”

“You don’t really have to say anything. The odd part is that I’ve only fooled around with guys. I’ve never had the nerve to hit on a girl before. I just really don’t know what I am. Mom, are you mad?”

“No I’m not mad. I’m happy that you’re honest with me. I really don’t know what to think…

…If you’ve fooled around with guys but don’t really like it, then I guess you’re probably a lesbian. But if you haven’t fooled around with girls yet are you sure that you’re a lesbian?”

“Well Mom, that’s a big unknown. I’m not really sure. I know that when I watch love scenes in movies that I’m always attracted to, and more interested in watching, the girl. I’ve used some Frederick’s of Hollywood and Victoria’s Secret catalogs for masturbatory purposes. I even own a few girl-girl DVD’s.”

“Girl-girl DVD’s? Where did you get those from?”

“I got ’em from one of my ‘boyfriends.’ He was a total jerk. One day I was over at his house and he left his underwear drawer open. I saw a stack of DVD’s and girlie mag’s in there and swiped some of the DVD’s. It’s not like he could tell on me. What’s he going to say? ‘Monica swiped my pornos.’ Plus, who would he ask anyways? I thought it was a win-win situation. He broke up with me that night because I wouldn’t put out.”

“Do you really get turned on when watching the movies?”

“Yeah Mom, I do. I get this tingly feeling all over, especially when I…” Oh shit. I really screwed up now. I just blurted something out that was to remain a secret. In doing so, I opened Pandora’s Box.

“Especially when you what?” Mom asked.

I knew she would. I knew I had to think fast. She was intrigued and staring at me with an arched eyebrow. I had to answer something.

“Especially when I’m playing with soiled panties while masturbating.”

“Just what the hell do you mean by that? That’s got to be the dumbest thing I ever heard.”

Mom was going into the ‘usual’ mom mode where she acts like it’s her way or the highway. As if things she doesn’t understand are ‘dumb.’ I was lulled into the ‘new’ mom that was fun to hang out with. The ‘new’ mom that whisked me away to Miami. The ‘new’ mom that actually seemed interested in developing a relationship with me.

“Mom, you won’t understand. I’m sorry I said anything. It’s best that I just drop the ‘dumb’ subject anyways. You’re not going to listen or understand.”

She must have taken that to heart. She stopped mid sentence. It didn’t matter what she was saying anyways because I stopped paying attention. I’ve been in these situations before. She just talks at me and doesn’t let me get a word in, and then thinks we had a good ‘talk.’

In stopping her usual rant, she looked at me and said. “I want to know the full story. Don’t skip any details; I’ll know it when you are. What is your deal with soiled panties?”

“Mom, I can’t. You’re going to get mad at me and think I’m gross. Can we just let this go as if I didn’t mention anything?”

“No honey. Not on this topic. I need to know. My curiosity is piqued. I’ll go get us some new drinks. When I return you’ll start from the beginning.”

Shit, she was serious. What I had to tell her would shake her to her core.

She soon returned and handed me a glass of wine. She took a seat while sipping from her glass of wine and then asked me to take a seat as well. Then she looked at me, almost through me, and said “Okay, now talk.”

Instead of taking a sip from my glass of wine I took a gulp.

“Okay, my panty play started when I was 11 or 12. Whatever age you first had me doing our laundry. One day as I was sorting through you’re laundry hamper there was a white lace boy-short panty on top. Something was different about it. Besides being sexier than the usual panties that you wear they smelled really good. I brought the crotch of the panty to my nose and was hooked. Since that day I’ve smelled your dirty panties. I’ve also done the same thing with my dirty panties. I like the comparing myself to you. I’ve also stuck my tongue out and tasted the crotches of our dirty panties. I’ve also done this with your friends’ panties when I’m over at their houses cleaning. It’s the reason I volunteer my maid services to them, besides wanting to make an extra buck or two.”

“How dare you, you disgusting bitch? You’ve violated the privacy and honesty of…”

I cut her off, “I knew you would never understand and fly off the handle. This is why I can’t tell you anything. If I never told you, you would never have known and wouldn’t think of me as a bitch. Honestly Mom, you could be a bit of a bitch yourself. If you think I’m a dirty girl and want me out of your house I think I have enough cash saved up to get my own apartment and to pay for school.”

Mom said nothing.

“Look, it’s something that I really enjoy. I don’t think you should knock it ’til you try it. Having this fetish is why I think I’m a lesbian. No, it’s not why I’m a lesbian; it just confirms the fact that I am a lesbian. Playing with dirty panties while smelling and tasting them is a real turn on for me. I only hope to taste and smell a real pussy one day.”

Mom still said nothing

“And besides, I always do the laundry right away so that everything is cleaned up. Nobody would ever know anything. Since ignorance is bliss there was no harm and no fowl. I’ll go pack my things and find my own way home.”

She still said nothing, so I just stared at her.

“Did you hear me?” I asked.

Finally she broke the silence. “Wow, I had no idea. I can’t believe I became so mad right away. I am so sorry to have done that. You’re not a bitch; I am. I understand why you would want to keep that as your secret. As I was thinking quietly to myself about what you were saying I realized that I couldn’t be mad at you. It’s part of who you are. It’s part of your lesbian lifestyle. You really DO long to be with women and really don’t want to be with men. On a side note, I think you should experience a full sexual relationship with a man just to make sure. You might actually be bisexual instead of being a full lesbian.”

She continued, “I can’t see any harm that you are causing while you play with the dirty panties. I never knew, for all these years, and no harm came to me from it. If that’s your ‘thing’ then so be it. You can carry on with your little fetish. I WON’T tell my friends; they might not be as understanding as I am. I am so sorry I yelled at you; you didn’t deserve that. Will you accept my apology?”

I did. Finally, there was a comfortable pause in the conversation with Mom. The room seemed calm again.

Then Mom spoke again, “Honey, I’m going to tell you something now. College is where you’re going to find all the pus…” She started to say pussy but changer her wording. “College is where you’re going to find all the girls you can handle. When you do, just make sure that they are clean. I don’t want you picking up some diseases, okay.”

“Sure Mom, and thanks for being so understanding. But how are you so sure I’ll find these ‘girls’ in college?”

“Well, in college I once had a ‘thing’ with another girl. We became good friends. She was a lesbian and I was curious. One night when drinking we started making out with one-another. The kisses were good, so we continued the ‘friendship.’ A month-or-so later our kissing got heavier and she went down on me. I freaked out and hurt her so bad that she transferred to another University later that week. It was the closest I came to getting over my curiosity. It ruined a friendship and I never tried it again.”

“Oh my God, I’m so happy that you told me your story. I just wish it had a happy ending. It’s too bad you never tried it again.”

“Well, Monica, if I did try it again you might not have been born.”

“I guess that’s true, but have you ever wanted to try it again? I mean have you ever REALLY wanted to try it again? You never really had closure to your curiosity.”

She took a sip from her drink and said “I’m not sure. You’re right about one thing. I never did have closure. I’m not sure I want to try it again. I’ve never really thought about it.”

We talked into the night; it became late and we kissed each other ‘good night’ and went to bed.

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