Mom’s sanity depends on son’s potency * Incest * par.1

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Incest stories,mom and son,  Mom’s sanity depends on son’s potency

“The big four-oh, Uncle Zack,” I said as I handed him his drink.

“Don’t feel a day over thirty-nine … and a half!” he laughed.

To tell you the truth, he didn’t look much older than me, and I just turned eighteen a couple months before.

I knew this birthday party was for both Uncle Zack and my mother—identical twins—but I thought I’d give my uncle the opportunity to tell one of his favorite stories (for the hundredth time).

“I forget,” I said, “who’s the oldest again?”

“Glad you asked, Mikey. I was all set to be born, ready to make my way into the world, when I got a tap on my shoulder and your mother said ‘That’s not very polite!’ So I made a courteous bow, which, in the womb is no small accomplishment, and said ‘Zoey, after you!'”

“Then, why does Mom look a little older than you do,” I laughed. I fought back the urge to tell him how much I hated being called “Mikey.”

“I’ll tell her you said that,” he kidded.

“Errr! Said what?” I laughed. But, in truth, I never wanted my mom to believe I thought of her as anything but beautiful, which she was.

She and Uncle Zack were both tall and muscular and athletic … real twins in all the clichés and stereotypes you can think of—even finishing each others’ thoughts out loud. A real connection. They both had straight black hair with not one gray in the bunch; Uncle Zach had his cut short and parted on the right while my mom had her hair long enough so she could control its swishy path with turns and twirls of her head—making it shine reflected light back to you. (I don’t think she knew she was doing this, but knowing my mom, I wouldn’t doubt she had practiced moves in front of the bedroom mirror.)

Uncle Zack’s good looks even won him a few small parts in some movies I never had seen. That was before he got going in investing and so real good at it and became successful. But, what I’m saying is that’s how good looking he was. Which also says how good looking my mother was.

“Sit next to your uncle for a sec, Mikey.”

“Mom says I have to keep moving and see everybody’s got what they need at the party. Mom’s orders, yanno.”

Mom and Dad had hired a local 3-piece band and tucked them into the far corner of the living room. The female singer played a bass guitar and a guy was on drums. The other guy sand and played an acoustic guitar. I was all set to throw some shade, but they were really good.

Above the sound of “Wonderful Tonight” Uncle Zack said, “Consider it my birthday wish … I want to ask you something.”

So I sat on the couch next to him.

Uncle Zack reached over and cupped the back of my neck and gave a rough “guy” shake that we use instead of a hug, I guess. “I’m proud of you, Mikey. Graduating near the top of your high school class, full academic scholarship, recruited for football across the country. Proud … just proud.”

I guess it meant a lot to have my uncle say that. He wasn’t too generous about the compliments. I stuck out my hand and he took it and we shook while I said, “Thanks. I guess I take after my uncle,” then I laughed. I must have gotten a whole load of Mom’s gene’s because I sure didn’t take after my dad. He was only five-eight and I was already taller than Mom’s five-ten. Not quite as tall as my uncle’s six-two, though, but I was still growing (I hoped!).

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