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A writing sample: Eye candy for mother-in-law
Hi all!
I decided to post a (very) short story I have written, instead of the usual cry for attention.
Please enjoy (or not!)
EYE CANDY FOR MOTHER-IN-LAW
My mother-in-law just left after visiting us for a few days. She is a nice person, kind and caring, and I like her, but that is not the reason I keep having fantasies about her. I have fantasies about her for all the wrong reasons.
She has had no education, she is unemployed, she has issues, both mental and physical. She has a cruel sense of humor sometimes, and she likes dirty jokes. She is a heavy smoker, she is fat, she is, in short, not very attractive. And she is my wife's mother.
Am I so much better? Could be. I am just a regular guy. Normal. Average.
By everything I hold sacred, but I want to feel weak, vulnerable with her. I want to feel like her toy, like something that she, in her misery, can lord over and manipulate.
One thing we have in common, my mother-in-law and I, is that we tend to get up at night to get something to eat. She will go out on the porch, have a smoke, then fix herself some food.
Once or twice she has inadvertently woken me up, I have felt hungry, and we have met in the night, exchanging a word or two in the kitchen, keeping quiet. The last time I couldn't sleep afterwards, thinking about what could have happened.
I could have woken up, I could have sneaked out of my bedroom, I could have seen her shadow on the porch. I could have have slipped out of my underpants, stark naked, and walked on the balls of my feet to the kitchen. A lot of people sleep naked, right? And it was not as if she used to meet me after bedtime.
I could have kept the lamps off just to, you know, not disturb any sleepers with the escaping light. I could have prepared making a sandwich. I could have stopped my preparations. And waited.
Waited for the cigarette to burn itself out, for the front door to open, for the irregular footsteps of a sick woman to approach, for the lights to go on in the kitchen.
I could start, I could turn halfway, I could look at her, eyes wide, say I was sorry about, you know, say I would go and fetch a bathrobe, say I would...
She could say it was all right, that she had 'seen naked men before,' an actual quote of hers. She could drop down on a kitchen chair, heavily, out of breath, waiting until I finished.
I could make the sandwich, not a single thought for what I did, but for the eyes that were observing me from behind. I would hope they did, anyway.
"I can make another one," I could say. "What do you want?"
I could turn around, half way, looking at her. She could be looking at me and, since this is a fantasy, she could give me a smile that would tell me I had been right.
She could order her sandwich, and I could make it, my back to her as I fetched ingredients from the fridge, the hairs on my body quivering in the cool night air she had let in.
I could hand her the plate, my back still towards her, awkward, and she could laugh.
"Turn around," she could say.
And I could turn around. And she could look at me. And she could smile. And I would feel the blood rushing. And she could watch how my body slowly, slowly showed her how much I appreciated what was happening.
She could eat her sandwich, sitting, dressed, looking at me. I could eat my sandwich, standing, naked, being looked at.
When we both were done, an eternity later, I could take a step towards her and ask: "Will you touch me?"
She could shake her head, she could tell me I was her son-in-law, she could stand up, she could give me a final look, and she could go to bed.
And I, I could not sleep a second more, burning up from inside.
Hi all!
I decided to post a (very) short story I have written, instead of the usual cry for attention.
Please enjoy (or not!)
EYE CANDY FOR MOTHER-IN-LAW
My mother-in-law just left after visiting us for a few days. She is a nice person, kind and caring, and I like her, but that is not the reason I keep having fantasies about her. I have fantasies about her for all the wrong reasons.
She has had no education, she is unemployed, she has issues, both mental and physical. She has a cruel sense of humor sometimes, and she likes dirty jokes. She is a heavy smoker, she is fat, she is, in short, not very attractive. And she is my wife's mother.
Am I so much better? Could be. I am just a regular guy. Normal. Average.
By everything I hold sacred, but I want to feel weak, vulnerable with her. I want to feel like her toy, like something that she, in her misery, can lord over and manipulate.
One thing we have in common, my mother-in-law and I, is that we tend to get up at night to get something to eat. She will go out on the porch, have a smoke, then fix herself some food.
Once or twice she has inadvertently woken me up, I have felt hungry, and we have met in the night, exchanging a word or two in the kitchen, keeping quiet. The last time I couldn't sleep afterwards, thinking about what could have happened.
I could have woken up, I could have sneaked out of my bedroom, I could have seen her shadow on the porch. I could have have slipped out of my underpants, stark naked, and walked on the balls of my feet to the kitchen. A lot of people sleep naked, right? And it was not as if she used to meet me after bedtime.
I could have kept the lamps off just to, you know, not disturb any sleepers with the escaping light. I could have prepared making a sandwich. I could have stopped my preparations. And waited.
Waited for the cigarette to burn itself out, for the front door to open, for the irregular footsteps of a sick woman to approach, for the lights to go on in the kitchen.
I could start, I could turn halfway, I could look at her, eyes wide, say I was sorry about, you know, say I would go and fetch a bathrobe, say I would...
She could say it was all right, that she had 'seen naked men before,' an actual quote of hers. She could drop down on a kitchen chair, heavily, out of breath, waiting until I finished.
I could make the sandwich, not a single thought for what I did, but for the eyes that were observing me from behind. I would hope they did, anyway.
"I can make another one," I could say. "What do you want?"
I could turn around, half way, looking at her. She could be looking at me and, since this is a fantasy, she could give me a smile that would tell me I had been right.
She could order her sandwich, and I could make it, my back to her as I fetched ingredients from the fridge, the hairs on my body quivering in the cool night air she had let in.
I could hand her the plate, my back still towards her, awkward, and she could laugh.
"Turn around," she could say.
And I could turn around. And she could look at me. And she could smile. And I would feel the blood rushing. And she could watch how my body slowly, slowly showed her how much I appreciated what was happening.
She could eat her sandwich, sitting, dressed, looking at me. I could eat my sandwich, standing, naked, being looked at.
When we both were done, an eternity later, I could take a step towards her and ask: "Will you touch me?"
She could shake her head, she could tell me I was her son-in-law, she could stand up, she could give me a final look, and she could go to bed.
And I, I could not sleep a second more, burning up from inside.
