Nothing changed after that night. Ms Magunderson was still terse with me in class, challenging me more than any of the other students. My mother and I still carpooled; and I tried not to treat her any differently, give away what I saw. But in my efforts to remain casual, I began to over-analyze. I would find myself unsure whether I should look into her eyes as I spoke to her, or look away. I wanted to treat her the same as always, as though I had never seen her ride that champagne bottle as though it were a cock, as though I had never heard Ms Magunderson make her cum. But I couldn’t remember whether I would have looked at her before or look away. And so I was like a socially backward being, completely relearning all the ways in which two people—two family members—are supposed to behave to one another. I tried not to think about it, but the more I tried not to, the more I did.
Two weeks later, I sat in the car, riding to the university, watching the where the edge of her grey skirt was pulled tight against her thigh, and I watched that long leg work the gas and brake. It was the same gentle gesture she had used with the champagne bottle. I kept telling myself it was Ms Magunderson I was attracted to, it was because of her that I spent every night remembering that evening as I masturbated. But as I sat in the car, trying not to watch her creamy white thigh and attempting to keep my erection hidden but comfortable, I had to admit that I was sexually attracted to my mother. Sexually obsessed with her. But her world was so different from mine, even though we lived in the same house. She was a divorcee with lovers, with a career, with a keen knowledge of how to get what she wanted. I was a virgin freshman who could barely hold his own life together.
She pulled up by the student centre to drop me off, and leaned over to give me a little peck on the cheek, as she often did. “Have a good day, son.”
“Thanks mom, you too.”
I got out of the car, turning away quickly and dropping my backback down to hide the crotch of my pants. I watched her drive off towards faculty parking.
“So that’s your grad student lover?”
I turned around Morag was there, voluptuous in a red skirt and white t-shirt.
“Hey, how are you doing?” I asked, not wanting to address the imbroglio of a lie that Vernon had concocted for me to win Morag. The lie basically consisted of building upon a rumour that I had an older lover, a teacher from the philosophy department. Vernon’s idea was that it would work up feelings of jealousy in Morag. Vernon understood women more than me, so I went along with it. But I could already see problems ahead.
“Late night last night?” she asked.
“I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Trouble in paradise?”
“Let’s just say that Vernon was making more out of this than there really is.”
“Oh. Anything you need to talk about?”
“I’d rather not.”
“Okay,” Morag shrugged nonchalantly. “See you at lunch?”
“Yeah,” I said, giving a little wave as we parted ways and headed off to our classes.
The seven of us met in the cafeteria at lunch, and as usual I had to fend off questions about my older lover from Oscar, Karl and Billy. Vernon was no help, he and Hannah mostly looked at each other and whispered and giggled. But Morag didn’t look as pissed off as usual. Maybe the fact that I had hinted that things weren’t that great with my lover had encouraged her. I hated the whole lie. I wanted to tell everyone the truth, blame it all on Vernon, but I couldn’t. But I must have raised my voice, because everyone suddenly went silent. I looked at Morag and she looked back at me sympathetically. She was beautiful. Perhaps a little on the chubby side, but such breasts! Right now I just wanted to hide from everything and curl up between them.
Conversations started up at either end of the table, and I found myself and Morag momentarily alone. I swallowed hard, then spoke.
“What are you doing after school?”
She looked genuinely surprised and pleased by the question. “Nothing.”
“I’ve got some errands to do, but maybe we could hang out later?”
“Yeah, I’d like that. I can come with you when you do your errands.”
All afternoon I was on a high. I didn’t think about my mother or Ms Magunderson, just about Morag, her pretty face, her curly dark hair, and her big, sexy curves. Part of me wondered if she was too chubby. I mean, she wasn’t the sort of woman you see in playboy. But then, she turned me on, so that should be enough. She met me after school, and we walked to the bus-stop.
“I’ve got to stop by and drop off some mail for my father.”
The bus pulled up and we got on. It was pretty full, so we ended up standing near the back.
“Your parents are divorced, right?”
“Yeah, but every now and then we still get some mail for him.”
“Is it hard, having divorced parents?”
“It was at first, but they were really good about it, they were very conscious of what I was going through. My dad teaches English over at ensest hikayeler JFU.”
“Not Edgar Hook?”
“Yeah, you know of him?”
“Yeah, I took a first-year class with him last year, before I transferred here. Wow. I never put it together that he was your dad.”
“He’s a good guy, but I don’t see much of him now. I live with my mother. I know it’s pretty lame, still living at home while going to college.”
“No, I did the same last year. I saved up for an apartment—or at least half of an apartment this year.”
“You’ve got a roommate?”
“Yeah, this goth friend of mine who’s taking criminology. Wow, I can’t believe you’re Professor Hook’s kid. You look like him, though.”
We arrived at the university, and went to the humanities building.
“I’m going to wait down here, if that’s all right,” Morag said.
“You don’t want to come up and see him?”
“No, that’s fine.”
“Okay.” I went up the elevator on my own to the third floor.
“Hello, Sean.” It was Sandra, the department secretary.
“Is my dad in?”
“He’s with a student.”
“Okay, I’ll wait,” I said, sitting down in one of the chairs. I debated just dropping the letters off, but I knew the dutiful thing was to stick around and say hello to him. It didn’t take long. After a couple minutes, a rail-thin girl with an untucked shirt and short skirt came down the hall. She walked past me with a glazed look in her eyes, then a moment later my dad came down the hall.
“Seanie-boy, good to see you.”
“Got a few minutes? Come into my office.” I followed him down the hallway, and turned into the tiny window office that overlooked a football field. The room smelled of marijuana.
“Negotiating some marks?” I asked him.
“You know how it is.” I did indeed. It was my dad’s appetite for his students that ended up ruining my parents marriage. “She failed her last exam, and she was wanting to get a do-over.”
“So how’s life? How’s your mother?”
“You know, same as usual.”
“How about you? Any girls?”
“Yeah,” I said, about to tell him about Morag. But I remembered her reluctance to come up here, and it occurred to me that maybe she was another one of these young women that my father had negotiated grades with. If that was the case, I didn’t want to know.
“Tell me about her.”
“Just a girl from school. She’s nice.”
“Is she cute?”
“Bring her by some time, I’d like to meet her.”
“Right. I should be going. Here’s your mail.”
I found Morag downstairs and we got back on the bus. This one was emptier, and so we sat down in a seat near the back. Maybe I should have tried to find out if my dad had screwed her, because now I was unable to think about anything else.
“My dad,” I started, not sure where I was going with the conversation, “how much did you know about him?”
“He broke up my parents’ marriage because he was always sleeping with his students.”
“Oh. You know about that.”
“Yeah. Wait, you mean you know about that?” I said, already suspecting she knew exactly what my dad was like. She looked away from me, and then back.
“I didn’t want to tell you before, because I didn’t want to upset you.”
“Oh, I don’t get upset,” I said, trying to remain calm as blood boiled up inside of me.
“Last year, when I was in his class, I got an F. Me and my friend, Chelsea. He took us into his office and told us that he’d give us a passing grade if we had sex with him. If we both did it together, we’d get guaranteed A’s for the rest of the term.”
I didn’t say anything. My sense of hate was moving from my father to Morag.
“I didn’t want to, but Chelsea did. So I went and called the academic VP of the students association, who’s supposed to intervene. But she wouldn’t do anything. I did some digging, and it turns out she had a class with him two years earlier. So maybe your father’s blackmailing her.”
But I was barely listening to her now, filled with relief. She hadn’t had sex with my dad. Everything was right with the world again.
“I didn’t want to upset you, but I think your father is a totally corrupt man. Why are you laughing?”
“I’m just so relieved. I thought you were going to say that you had sex with my father.”
“No, I wouldn’t. I’m a virgin. But Chelsea, she got pregnant by him.”
“Yeah, he’s the only guy she slept with last year, so she’s sure it’s his.”
“I have a sibling, then? What is it, a boy or a girl?”
“She’s hasn’t had it yet, she’s at eight months.”
“At least he’s supporting her, giving her a few hundred dollars every month to keep quiet. Anyway, I’m sorry to have to tell you all this.”
“No, I’m glad that you did.”
“You know what’s crazy?”
“I liked your dad, prior to that. I had fantasies about him. If he had propositioned me like a normal adult instead of trying to get me to whore myself out for grades, I might have said yes.” She was looking at me now, talking softly. Her eyes were watching my lips as she spoke, and I found myself watching her thick red lips. “And maybe that upsets you, but it shouldn’t because you’re a lot like him, and I’m attracted to you just like I was to him. Moreso, even, because you’re honest and not manipulative.”
We kissed, there at the back of the number forty bus. I’m embarrassed to say that it was my first real kiss, my first kiss that held an undertone of sex. But I felt such a sense of relief as soon as it happened: relief that I wouldn’t end up like the guy in the Tragically Hip song. Then I forgot all about that, about it being my first kiss, as I learned how to respond to her tongue with my own, as I learned to breath through my nose so that I could simply keep my lips against hers for the rest of the bus ride.
“Listen,” she said at last. “My stop is coming up. If you want to come back to my place tonight, you’re welcome to. I know you’ve got your sexy older woman, so this can just be our little secret if you want. I’ll leave it up to you with how far we go and how much it means.”
I nodded, and followed her off the bus. We walked, hand in hand to her apartment, and then in. Again, I tried to think of how to tell her that there was no older woman, but I didn’t want to ruin this moment. She wanted to have sex with me, and I was going to go as far as I could with her.
We got inside her apartment, and everything became suddenly awkward. She was a virgin, and so was I, but she must have assumed that I wasn’t. She must have been waiting for me to take the lead.
She moved to the kitchen. “Chelsea’s not home yet. We have the place to ourselves.”
“Wait, Chelsea is your roommate? The mother of my half-brother?”
“Didn’t I tell you that?”
“You told me your roommate was a goth who was taking Criminology.”
“Yeah, that’s Chelsea. You’re right, I guess I didn’t tell you. Listen, this whole night has been so weird. If you want to just call it a night—”
“No,” I quickly interrupted, and she looked up, surprised. “It has been a weird night, but I’ve really enjoyed being with you. Kissing you. I’d like to do some more.”
Morag moved close to me, put her hands on my waist, and turned her head up as though to look at me, but with her eyes closed. I kissed her again, put my arms around her, and pulled her close enough that I could feel her breasts against my chest. We stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the hallway, and kissed until my legs were weak. I let my hands explore more, up and down her back, enjoying, in particular, the curve of her backside just above her ass. I slid my hands down carefully. Even though she had made it clear that I could go as far as I wanted, I listened for some sign of disapproval. But her hands did the same as mine, sliding down over my ass, cupping the cheeks, and pulling me against her.
Then she broke off the kiss suddenly, and turned from me. At first I thought I had done something wrong, but as she walked slowly away, she looked back at me over her shoulder, her lips just parted and her eyes smoldering. Maybe she was a virgin, but she knew what she was doing. She pulled her shirt up over her head, and let it fall on the floor, then reached up inside her skirt and pulled her panties down, letting slide down her ankles. She stepped out of them, and looked back once more, before disappearing into the bedroom. I followed, of course. I wanted to be as sexy, but I had no idea. Should I do a little strip-tease? Or should I let her undress me? I got to the doorframe, and watched as she proceeded to adjust the room, smoothing out her bedsheets, draping a blue sheet over the bedside lamp to dull the glare.
I stood in the doorframe, and unbuttoned, my shirt. She sat down on the bed and watched, grinning. I pulled off my belt, and she beckoned for me to come to the bed, swinging her legs around to sit on the edge, facing me.
“I’ve been wanting you for so long,” Morag moaned unbuttoning my fly. My body trembled as she reached her hand inside my boxer shorts. The first time a hand other than my own grasped my solid erection. She pulled it out and dropped her mouth down upon it.
“Oh, god!” I moaned out as she slurped at my cock.
“You like that?” she whispered between mouthfuls.
“For a virgin, you’re really good at it.”
“Well, I’ve done this a few times before. But never with one so big. Massive.” She opened her mouth wide and took it down in her mouth.
“God,” I moaned again.
“Have you got any condoms with you?”
“No,” I said. “I had no idea my day was going to end like this.”
“I think there’s some in Chelsea’s room. If you want to go all the way, I can go get one.”
“Yeah, do that.”
In a flash, Morag left the room, then returned with a packaged condom in her hand. She knelt down in front of me, tore the package open with her teeth, and began rolling the condom over the tip. I closed my eyes in anticipation. My first kiss and my first fuck on the same night.
“Do you need a bigger size?”
“It’s not fitting over the head,” Morag said. I looked down to where she was still struggling with the condom.
“Oh, I guess so.” I had never tried putting one on before, so I had no idea what size I needed, or even that they came in different sizes.
“You want to fuck my tits instead?” Morag asked, unclasping her bra and laying back on her bed. I nodded, and climbed on top of her, first wanting to touch them, those melonous tits. I slid my hands up over her torso, cupped her breasts, and dove in, sucking and kissing them. I buried my head in the warmth of her cleavage, massaging the breasts on either side of my head. Then I sat up, straddled her, and she took my cock in her hands, laying it between her breasts.
“There’s some oil in the bedside table,” she said.
I reached across and pulled open the drawer. There was a bottle of sesame oil, along with a jar of Vaseline and a shiny pink dildo.
“Nice toy,” I remarked.
“A girl’s gotta keep herself busy,” she replied. “Not as nice as this, though.”
I poured some oil onto her tits, and she rubbed her hands over them, then wrapped her oily fingers around my cock. I put my hands on her breasts, massaging them together. Then I slipped my cock between them.
“Mmm, that’s it,” she moaned.
I slipped in and out of her cleavage, her tits so warm and smooth, and she cupped her hands over them, rocking back and forth under me.
“Oh Morag, I’m going to cum soon,” I said, disappointed that I wouldn’t have more stamina. It felt so good, though, I just couldn’t hold back.
“That’s it, cum all over my tits.”
I did, my body spasming with a powerful orgasm. I looked down to see my ejaculate spilling out all over her neck, her bust, her tits.
“Oh that’s it, shoot it all out,” Morag whispered. She ran her hands over her breasts, coating herself with my cum. “I’m all sticky now!”
I just moaned in response, speechless at her salacious show beneath me. She looked down at her tits, then leaned forward, pulling her breast up to her mouth, swirling her tongue around the nipple. “Mmm, I’m all salty too!”
I lay down beside her. “I really want to lose my virginity with you,” she said. Not tonight, but soon. If you want me to, I mean, if it’s something you want to do a lot, I don’t mind going on birth control.”
I was still breathless. “I’d like that.”
I awoke in darkness, and it took me a moment to remember where I was. I got up, and wandered down the hall, looking for the bathroom. One of the doors was cracked open, with a light beyond. I tiptoed to the door and looked through the crack. There was Chelsea.
She was very goth, very pregnant, and very naked. She knelt on her bed, lit by candle-light. Her back was covered with a big tattoo, a solid block of writing. More tattoos on her arm and legs. One of her hands was stroking her wide, swollen belly. So that was my father’s child in there. She looked down over her body, and I wondered if she was ready for this. Did she hate what was happening to her? Did she hate my dad for what he had done to her? Her hand slipped down beneath her belly, and she gasped as she touched herself. Then her hand wandered back up her body, to her full, milky breasts. I could feel my cock hardening. I reached down and gripped it.
Then she repositioned herself, lying on her side, her back to the door, one of her legs elevated. She stroked herself gently. She was humming something, a lullaby, as she slipped her other hand down between her legs. It was perverse; it was erotic. I watched her fingers disappear inside her quim, and then she pulled a blanket up over her naked form as if she intended to sleep just like that, her fingers inside herself. I wanted to masturbate, but now that I had a lover, in the form of the beautiful and talented Morag, masturbation seemed like such a waste of my cum.
I continued quietly along the hallway, found the washroom, then returned to bed, where Morag slid up against my back, slipped her hand down, found my cock, and quietly masturbated me. I closed my eyes, imagining Morag’s breasts. I imagined Chelsea’s swollen belly. I imagined the lips of the girl who came out of my dad’s office. I imagined Ms Magunderson’s ass. And I imagined my mother’s long legs. Would she notice that I wasn’t home tonight? Would she worry? I was thinking of my mom when I came, her hand pressed between her squirming thighs. In the darkness I could hear Morag, noisily licking my cum off her fingers.
I awoke to sunlight streaming through the window. Morag was gone from the bed, but I could hear her and Chelsea talking in the kitchen. I rose, put on my clothes, stopped at the bathroom to give myself a once-over, then went to the kitchen. Morag and Chelsea were sitting at the table in their housecoats, the latter reading a newspaper, the former eating a bowl of cereal.
“Hey, you’re up,” Morag said to me. “Chelsea, this is Sean. Sean, Chelsea.”
“Hi there,” I said, wondering if Morag had explained who I was.