Rocky Mountain Sin Bk. 01

Literotic asexstories – Rocky Mountain Sin Bk. 01 by DickBogart1953,DickBogart1953 Everyone is 18+ in the this story of love and lust with family. I rode the short bus in school and am dyslexic and use software and editors to make it easier to read.

Rocky Mountain High or My Sin. Book 1

Four years ago, in 2011, my Dad, David Allan Bogart, started not feeling well and not wanting to go out and watch me play sports. Then two years went by of not knowing what was happening in Dad’s world. Going to the Doctor for two years, but they never tested Dad till he fell from his desk sick and was taken to the Emergency Room and admitted for tests. Now two years later, he died; the hard part was we had to watch the man we love waste away. It took two long years. The whole house is my Dad; everything reminds me of him. I am sure it hits Mom the same way. David, my Dad, had a hand in the design of the house. Dad added all the touches to his choices, like built-in bookshelves and details on the ceiling, making the rooms feel more significant than they were and cozier and home-like at the same time.

Or how the nightstands and chest of drawers were built into the wall, giving the room two feet more. Heck, the choice of wall colors and wall treatments was on point; no plain white walls here colors to please the young mind. I know my Mom had a hand in all the choices of cabinets, surfaces, and fixtures. The house is large; I mean five bedrooms with a different design in the bathrooms in each room. A kitchen with an island with a smokeless grill, a sink, and a trash compactor all fit under it. It made learning to cook from my Mom fun.

Our lives got complicated quickly. It went way too intimate when Dad was no longer able to wash. My Mom cared for him. She did everything for him but needed help giving him a shower. So the two of us carried him in and out of the shower and dried him off, putting him into clean clothes and returning to bed. Mom always wore a pink two-piece.

Between school work, I helped my Mom by doing everything needed in our home. I did everything from shopping for the week’s food to cooking meals, keeping the house clean, washing dishes and clothes, rubbing my Mom’s back and feet, and often taking Mom to bed after she passed out. I even stopped dating my Mom, thinking it was out of embarrassment because of my Dad. Of course, that was not the case, but I could never tell Mom why I was not dating. I’m Danny Allan Bogart. I turned eighteen a few weeks ago now.

My chances of living after telling her would be maybe 60 to 40% that I would live after I admitted my love. You see, I saw my Mother as a woman, and I was in love with her there I said it. Watching Mom handle this for years took a toll on both of us. Then that horrible day, they took Dad’s body away.

Two years have passed slowly for the both of us; Mom pulled me out of school, homeschooling me to give me a master class in math needed for working on the programs and the rest of my day going over the rest of my classes. Finally, after only eight weeks, we covered two years of high school. I passed my GED, and Wendy up the rate of learning. I kept my focus on learning what I needed for college Mom bought college textbooks, and we audited online classes; it gave me a chance to excel, but it did more we spent our days together.

Our school day was ten hours long. Some classes were as long as four hours. Watching college lectures online and writing a report on them, Mom made it a daily thing. We went to see what was outside the door of our world with Mom every few days, but She seemed dead set on trying to get me to ask girls out again.

On one such outing to get coffee at the museum coffee shop, Mom said. “Baby, the counter girl looks cute look. She is studying Romeo and Juliet. It’s got post-it notes marking the pages. So go talk to her and recite the balcony scene to her.”

I did. I had three dates with Jackie. My heart was never in it. It was not a particular person in a pink two-piece. Our second date was one of note, as we traded our childhood for Adulthood, and being held, had new meaning when it was a hot girl. Jackie was her name; she was a nineteen years old college freshman. She stood shorter than I at six foot one. When she wore heels, we were the same height. Her perfect hourglass shape is 36 C-34-36 and one hundred and forty-four pounds with blue eyes and long blond hair.

Our first date was a live play in the park; it was Taming of the Shrew. We did our first kiss, but she found it hot I found it alright. My feelings were not behind it. Our second date was dinner and a movie; we talked till three am. Jackie invited me to her one-room apartment. It was charming and smelled of her, and the meal was fun and tasted great. Jackie took my shirt off me as we kissed. I had to stop her and say. “You were hot beyond words, but it would just be sex with you, not lovemaking.”

Jackie pushed me down and took my shirt off as she took hers off her pink bra, and I saw a pink swimsuit, a two-piece of a specific person. I got hard. Jackie felt my hardness, and I lifted your bra, kissing my first nipple. I came in my pants from the lap dance.

I took my pants off, and you saw my cum covered cock you say. “Damn, you came boatloads but are still hard.”

After cleaning my hard cock off, you showed me how to lick your hot pussy till it got wet, and you showed me your magic button. I watch porn like a typical pervert, but some of the porn a woman makes is good at telling me what to do. Strange, a few things I tried did not work on you; your nipples were not overly sensitive, but rubbing your clit was a winner. It’s twenty minutes into my sex act, and Jackie rubs her clit as she is riding on top. My mind almost tripped me as we were building to our second cums. Jackie moans to some guy named Bob. I was two seconds away from calling out to Mom when I came. Jackie fell to my side as I took the condom off, tossing it in the trash.

Jackie says. “Thank you, that was sweet; you watch lots of porn, don’t you?”

I answered you. “Plan on watching more you need to tell Bob how you feel.”

She moved on to a college guy named Bob. We never had that fourth date, no connection that has lasted eighteen years with a pink two-piece. I was lonely and a little heartbroken it left me very vulnerable. So we both were down on the second anniversary of Dad’s death. We ate sort of, watched a movie, and left for bed early, was what happened.

Mom was upset all day when I told her I had to go to college and get a degree. I was going out of town for college the company that wanted to hire me off my application asked for a degree in computer science. Mom asked me how I would pay for college as the medical bills were getting deep. I told her I bet on sports teams and I have the first two years saved for college. Mom stopped speaking to me after dinner. How would life have been different if I had been smart enough to ask why she was so upset?

I have been trying to sleep in my room, once a boy’s bedroom with a Speedracer bed, now a modern white four-poster king-size with black and white quilts. Sometime after midnight, Wendy, my Mom, climbed into my bed with me, wearing one of my tee shirts with my silk gym shorts was all she had on. I had my boxers on and aftershave.

We cried for hours till we fell asleep in each other’s arms. It was beyond intimate Mom’s hot breast kept my dreams about a pink bra. Mom sleeping with me lasted a week of our sleeping together. I could not send you away or kiss you to tell you how I felt. I woke with a raging boner pressed into Mom’s firm ass every day for a week. I swear it was my body doing that. I had nothing to do with it.

Mom, on day seven, finely says. “You’re getting too big to sleep with your Mom. You are poking me, dear it’s getting old, but I guess you’re growing up now. So go sleep in your bed.”

I’m eighteen now. I’m six foot two, weighing one hundred eighty-eight pounds, and starting college in a few months. Too big to sleep with my Mom, depending on who you ask. I have my Moms blues eyes and light brown hair; we both keep long hair. Well, I had two choices. One I could remind my forty-four-year-old hot Mom, Wendy Elizabeth Bogart. Who stood five foot nine and weighed one hundred and forty pounds. We are in My bed, or Two I could sleep in Mom’s bed. I got up heartbroken my Mother sent away from your warm arms.

I felt empty getting to Mom’s room and climbing into the newly made-up bed. Your smell hit me hard, and things did get hard. I found your silk nightgown. It smelled of you. I could not stop myself if I wanted to. Wrapping your sexy pink baby doll nightie around my hot hard seven-inch cock your smell was there. It was going to happen fast. My mind saw you at the pool wearing that tiny two-piece, your body looking like a goddess.

When Mom opened the bedroom door and entered her room, she says. “Son, you dummy, why did you not tell me I was in your bed?”

You stopped, and you saw my boxers down around my ankles. Of course, I could not stop, but I did toss the nightie away, and on second thought, I should have kept it as I was now holding my hard naked cock. Instead, I held my cock harder, squeezing, trying not to come.

I did come and moaned out. “Damn it, Mom shit Wendy, my love, take my come.”

As my young cock exploded, hitting me in the face, Mom stared with her hand over her mouth, groaning. It took a minute for blood to return to your face. Finally, you broke into tears and ran to your bathroom, closing the door. We did not talk about that day, but I left for college the following month, a month early. It was too uncomfortable at home. My Mom used to hold me in bed or hug or kiss me at all times of the day. That all stopped after that morning.

I am now twenty-two and finished college in computer sciences in under two and a half years with a B. S.. A year now I been with the company. I am my father’s child’s Dad. He designed the ‘You got Mail’ software and hardware on 98 software, improving our life. I created a program based on some of Dad’s work that bet on sports teams and the stock market. It was a 70% winner in my first year at school. I never told anyone other than my Mom about it. I dated with just FWB word of mouth mostly, and I was getting referrals. I never went steady or found time to date. My schoolwork came first.

We went from struggling to make ends meet in a two million dollar home behind in taxes and debt from Dad’s illness and medical bills from ALS. I paid the house taxes in the first year, my second year, I paid off all of Mom’s Debts. I had a debt card Mom gave me, and I just made payments to the card every month. I tried to talk to Mom about that day, but Mom stopped answering my calls and texts during my last Christmas at school. So finally, just before the holidays, I called Wendy about coming home.

Mom says. “I’m tired of the house and all the pain it stood for. It hurts too much. I’m all alone in this big house. The memories of your Dad and you echo in loneliness in the house. I can’t sleep in my bed without nightmares. So I sold the house, and thank you for paying off the debts. I spent money to rebuild my old home outside of Boulder, Colorado. I move at the end of the month. We will do Christmas next year. It’s too much trying to do all this now. You should go home anyway and pick the things you want to keep to move up north. You can store them till you find a place.”

Three missed holiday seasons now spent at school she had but only asked, and I would’ve been there in a second. I had not spent time with my Mom since before the incident; every weekend I came home, Mom had things to do, a few hugs, maybe a pizza, and she was gone my whole visit. I got hired by that tech company that wanted me, but I had to travel to Silicon Valley for a year, then I could work at home.

I missed the next holiday, not getting time to go home. I was working on a project at work, and I built a supercomputer at home in my spare time. With the extra setup speed, I could up the percentage by another 10% on my software. So I made three times what I was making at the company. I told them I would work as a contract employee and I wanted a 7% bonus if it hit a certain number profit wise they agreed.

I touched base with my Mom about coming home. It was a rather drunken Zoom call. I could not tell you what it was about or what she said, but I moved everything into my SUV and a trailer. Before leaving, I spent weeks looking online for a house to buy the market was way up. Nothing looked good in the cash I had on hand. I filled out forms and needed to finance, but they told me I was too young.

I moved. It was a manageable load. It took me twenty trips to load both. For the twenty-one-hour trip, I stopped at two places overnight, making the trip in three days. Then, finally, I drove up to the house. It looked nothing like I remember, but I was twelve then. New paint, solar panels, and an over sized deck, but the small lake at the bottom of the hill is three times larger than I recall.

I saw Mom out sunning on the back deck wearing a pink two-piece. A large pitcher of fruity drinks sat on a small table. I don’t know how much you started with, but Mom walked drunk.

Mom says. “Wait.”

My Mom tossed her door keys at me and yelled the alarm code. I caught the keys, unlocked the door entered the code. I walked into a house that did not look like our house ever did then I recalled how hard I cleaned back then. There was a fucking full-size silver metal trashcan in the kitchen. I walk up the stairs to see my Mother.

I went into the door. I thought it was, and it was a laundry room. I found the primary bedroom, and it was a mess of dirty clothes everywhere, empty wine bottles, and some I could not tell what they were. I went out on your balcony. Mom finished whatever was in her pitcher and was asleep on the chaise lounge. I took you to your bed, but the dirty underwear and the food bits grossed me out. I left you on the bed in a spare room. I went to find my room. It was clean downstairs, as was a second extra room. I go to the four-car garage of Mom’s German SUV. All four fenders are rough looking. It looked unwashed; pulling my SUV in and unhitching the trailer, I parked it in the next stall closing and locking it.

It’s ten am. The place looks like hell, as does my Mom. I called a Maid service and asked for a four-person team. They were there in under an hour. I cleaned my Mom’s room and washed a load of dirty clothes. The teams worked till six, but they finished up. The place was clean, tipping the crew extra as the beds were clean, but there were still four loads of clothes to do. I called, ordered oriental food, and ate a little after eight pm.

Mom came down about nine pm, drank a couple of wine coolers like they were water, and said. “Come to bed, dear, after your TV show David. Don’t be long.”

Mom walked up the stairs and went to her room. Her drinking is not just alcohol. I need to find out if she’s on something else or if this is just months of alcohol. Mom was high or drunk on something when I walked into the room. Mom passed out. I find two prescriptions on the nightstand drawer. One bottle was full one was empty. I called the drugstore number on the bottle and asked what it was. It was a synthetic opioid. I searched for the Doctor’s name as I watched TV. He was under indictment for running a pill mill.

I looked into hospitals for drug rehabilitation, sent an email, and set up an appointment in the morning to get her a bed and help. I picked Mom up and went to the bathroom to wash her in the shower as I took my things off. I washed your hair as you sat on a bench under the shower. I bathed Mom more like a lover than a son, but I did not take advantage of her. Instead, I bent the line a bit. I dressed Mom for bed and dressed in gym shorts. I held Wendy. She tried to get David, her husband, to give her some. It was much less than I dreamed it would be.

Mom tossed and turned till I say. “Go to sleep, Wendy. I’ll make you sing in the morning, Luv.”

I said in my Dad’s Cockney accent. Mom rested better. I held her till the sun came up.

Mom got up and peed, came back to bed, and says. “David, you did not wake me to make me sing. Shit, Danny, what are you doing here? Where did David go?”

You collapse on the bed. I sat next to you and say. “Sorry, Wendy, you have not been sober in a long time. I missed you, but you are my Mom. You called me David, and you wanted Dad. I was able to get you to sleep, at least before anything happened. I’m sorry, Mom, I have a room at a rehab waiting for you. Are you ready for all of my love? You have to want to get better. You feel like breakfast, dear, or just coffee?”

Wendy says. “Coffee, I go change, then we can go. I want to be loved; I want to get better.”

I dove Mom there and waited with her till they checked her in, and I gave them my credit card and paid for thirty days. I stopped at the store and filled the fridge with fresh food. I packed the refrigerator and started making dough for fresh bread and a pizza for dinner. I went to Mom’s room and searched. I found some grass and a pipe for smoking it with. It burned fine and gave me a happy face. The second main bedroom was a suitable size for me. It has a reading nook or a perfect space to set up my office. I bring the stuff up and leave some out in the storage by the cars. By noon I set up my table, moved the too-small desk, and built my station with three monitors and my monster rig. I hooked up to the house’s internet. Taking my laptop to find the modem finding it I hooked my computer up and pulled the password to log on. I called a local electrician to put a better power source in my room and found Mom’s bills in an office. It was neat as a pin. I upgraded the internet to business class and went online, waiting for the service calls.

I contacted work with an email, and it read. “My Family left me with a lot of free time. Got anything I can do for ninety days need a few days to get my P.C. Up and running?”

They told me they added my name to the next build starting in a few days, fifty bucks an hour, not much knowing the last game I worked on sold for millions and why I signed on for low pay for 7% on the top end when the game either makes it or not. So I went on my program, loading the reports from team players listed as starters. Then, running the numbers for the week’s games, I set up five world sports and the feed to show targeted news with players’ names and keywords. The next four days could make more significant changes.

I go and eat lunch, and Mom’s phone goes off. It was a text from someone named Sally. The text was. “Wendy, care to play tennis, sexy?

I sent a text back. “I am sorry; I’m Danny, her son. I don’t know how much I can tell you. She’s in the hospital, and she can’t have her phone. Do you get her to go play, or do you two go drinking?”

Sally text says. “I’m here now. We should talk.”

She knocked on the front door, and I let her in. Sally was stunning a blood cheerleader if ever there was. She stood an inch taller than me at six foot three, weight maybe one hundred and fifty curves in all the right places.

She stuck a hand out. Your smile lit the room with warmth. You dropped your coat. I take it to hang it on the coat rack and take your hand, smiling back.

She says. “Call me Sally; you’re old enough to call me that? You’re as hot as your Mom.”

Her breast was smaller than my Moms, but her red hair was sexy. Those green eyes sparkled at me when she held my hand a little longer. Her hand felt soft and warm when she patted my chest and kissed my cheek. I smelled lilacs and something else.

Sally sighed and said. “I’m Sally, your Mom’s old college roommate/girlfriend. I tried to get Wendy to go get exercise and do other things, but she only wanted to drink her lunch.”

I say. “Mom, she would talk much about you when life got hard. Your memory seems to make her smile. I asked her why and she would look hungry and change the subject. I overheard Dad talking to Mom about calling you for a long weekend visit, but we both know that never happened. Yes, a lot of talking about you.” I winked at you your smile lit the room up.

Sally says. “We were, you know, a couple before your Dad came on the scene. You know your Dad knocked your Mother down running into her reading a book. He just said pardon me and walked on. Wendy wanted to meet your Dad. She said he was sexy and smart. So she arranged to be in his classes and study group, but it was the three times placing herself in his path did not work. Finally, it was getting knocked down on the fourth knock time. Your Dad just looked at her, saw her, and helped her up. Your Mom pretended to be hurt; god, he was such a dork. As he was carrying her to her dorm room, he dropped her she broke her ankle. From that day on, she spent all her free time with your Dad. Her love for him was stronger than mine.”

I say. “I put Mom in rehab today; they said no calls in till after the first thirty days, but I’ll give you my contact info.”

Sally says. “Thank you, you’re a good deal like both of them, your Mom and Dad. Wow, the place looks great. I did not have to empty the metal trash can or wash dishes to get to her bedroom. Look, I love your Wendy as much as I did back then. Your Mom talked about you non-stop, and she told me of her regrets when she got drunk. She said her shame in lusting after her son made her loneliness worse. She said she slept with you just slept, but she wanted more. Her guilt and fear of entrapping you with lust would keep you from finding love as you should.”

I sat and looked shocked as Sally held my hand. The look of lust in your eyes was the same as I’d seen this before, both in Mom and Jackie. I could not speak for fear of what I might say to this stranger to me. I can’t play poker or keep a juicy secret. My face gives me away.

Sally says. “Damn, son, that’s her face when she talks about you. So you know your Mom’s will never be happy till you’re back in her life?”

I say. “That explains a few things about Mom’s cold shoulder; talk about hurt and rejection.”

I got quiet and looked at you. Still, as sexy as my Mom, my face felt flush as if I saw your body naked on my bed. I think Sally looked at me the same way. Sally came by every few days to bring me covered dishes as if I had my Dad’s skills in the kitchen. I learned to cook at twelve, and I cooked all the meals at sixteen. Only once did she eat with me. It was a tuna mac and cheese casserole. It was an alright taste.

I say. “Hon, come over Saturday night. Let me cook you a meal. You were so kind of you to do that, dear. I will serve you all the wine you want, but you can stay in the spare room. You are not driving drunk, no, mam. Thanks for keeping me company, but you’re not going to try to fix me up with a date, are you?”

Sally says. “No, but I do have a wicked dream of you finding your true loves.”

A few days went by then Saturday hit. Sally came over after seven as I had to finish my project and I was working on the weekend’s bets.