Mother Son Spanking Stories
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Mother Son Spanking Stories
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What seemed like a depressing situation evolved into a critical part of my healing.
I moved out of parents house and in with my boyfriend at the ripe old age of 19. One day, I lay dreaming in a twin bed in my mother's basement, the next I was playing big girl pretend in a one-bedroom apartment in a boxy building complex.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" my friends whispered as they helped me lug a hand-me-down sofa up two flights of stairs.
"Is this really want you want to do?" questioned my mother, as she watched me untack my Van Gogh framed art and my Sarah McLachlan poster from my walls.
"For God's sake, people!" I countered confidently, tossing my New Kids on the Block scrapbook into a half-filled moving box. "I know what I'm doing!"
But — and I know you'll be surprised by this – it turns out, I did not.
The story goes like many young love affairs do. I married the boyfriend, we moved from small apartment to a feral cat ridden street just outside of Detroit. We got a dog and a KitchenAid mixer. We made love, we made children, and we made a huge, gigantic mess of our lives.
Fifteen tumultuous years after I bode a fond farewell to the four walls of my childhood bedroom, I found myself back home once again.
My husband and I had let our marriage die a slow, insidious death. Only when it was finally cold and lifeless on the floor, did we decide we needed to have an exit plan. Except we had no real plan at all. My husband moved into his father's house and I stayed with the children during the week, but nearly every weekend he would come and stay with the kids at our house, so that they would have the stability of being in their own home, around the things that made them feel the calmest.
On those weekends where I was displaced from my home, my mother graciously offered to allow me to return to the home of my youth. It was a wonderful, miserable proposition.
On Friday nights, I would load my sad belongings into a lumpy duffle bag and kiss my children, whom I had never been separated from before, goodbye. Then I would sob every second of the 20 minute drive to my mother's, turning up the sad songs on the radio and screaming out the lyrics to the empty car.
At first, there was something slightly humiliating about returning to my mother's house, something akin to shame over ending up in the very place I had so casually abandoned a decade and a half before.
But that quickly faded when I realized my mom had HBO. And a fancy cappuccino maker. I remembered all the wonderful things about being at home again, nearly instantly. She was a great cook and her house smelled wonderful and did I mention, there were no kids there? What started out as a dismal, depressing prospect — leaving my home on the heels of a divorce to return to my mother's house — ended up feeling like a weekly respite at a really, really nice bed and breakfast for free.
I'd stop at the drugstore on my way to pick up a six pack of beer, a copy of Cosmopolitan and a family size bag of peanut M & M's. I would get into my pajama pants when I arrived and my mother and I would eat take out Chinese food. I'd sleep late in the mornings and eat my mother's snacks and let her take care of me, in a place that reminded me of comfort, warmth, and of the soft surrounding of childhood.
It healed me, at a time when I needed healing, and it helped me breathe again.
When the arrangement ended a few months later and my husband bought his own house, I missed those times at my mother's house dearly.
People often say, "You can never go home again." Well those people clearly never had their mothers serve them a cup of coffee while they sat, as a grown woman, reading the newspaper on a cold, rainy Saturday morning. After my experience of moving back home part-time at the age of 34, I think the adage should really go a little something more like this: "You can never go home again, unless your mom has all the premium channels on cable and makes really great baked goods."
And then, by all means,go home, again.
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They say mothers and sons have a close relationship, but this story may take the cake.
Taking to internet forum Reddit, a woman only known by her screenname of ‘u/chewbawkaw’ explained that she’d been seeing her 30-year-old boyfriend for about a year and recently went on holiday with him and his family. It was one of the first times she’d had a chance to get to know her in-laws, who live in a different state.
While the parents were warm and welcoming, the woman couldn’t help but notice her partner’s mother was very touchy-feely towards her sons . Most parents are fond of a cuddle and a kiss, but she explained that it was nothing compared to what she experienced on the holiday.
For example, her partner would be in his bathing suit and his mother would come from behind and wrap her arms around him, caressing his chest and nuzzling his neck.
“She also did that once while my boyfriend and I were kissing,” the woman added.
Another time, the couple were sharing a cuddle in bed when the mother came out of her room and laid on top of her son, exposing her underwear. However, she said the mother was even closer with her other son.
“He would be in his little twin bed napping in just boxer briefs and she would come up in her nightie and spoon him,” she explained. “She would stroke his chest, thighs, back and arms. He would pull up her shirt to stroke her belly and would rub her body as well.”
The brother would regularly tell his mother how beautiful she was, although the woman said it would be sweet if she wasn’t rubbing her naked body on her son when he was saying it. The woman said no one in the family seemed bothered by the touching and even noticed the husband paying his wife plenty of attention.
“I also want to reiterate that I DO NOT think that this is a sexual thing (hopefully) between his family,” she wrote. “It just doesn’t seem like they ever updated their personal boundaries. Like if her kids were 4 years old instead of 30 this probably wouldn’t look as weird…right?”
She acknowledged that normal is subjective and that it’s just the standard people are used to, but questioned if it would be weird if she was in bed wearing a bikini with her own father spooning her.
“Most of me feels like I should just keep my mouth shut because he has two parents and a brother that love him to the moon and back,” she continued. “On the other hand, if he was raised in an environment where what would be typically considered sexual touching was used as non-sexual affection, it makes sense that he has been struggling with physical boundaries now that he lives away from his community.”
Other Reddit users offered their opinions and advice for the woman.
One person wrote: “This is very, very weird and inappropriate, and the mother is the one instigating it.”
Another comment read: “If you are an intuitive person than it would be a good idea to press your bf [boyfriend] a little bit about how far the mother goes. Gauge his reactions and figure out what to do next. He may need some help.”
A third added: “I was thoroughly disturbed by this post. That woman is creepy. Mothers don’t cuddle their barely clad adult sons while they’re wearing little nighties. And neither do adult sons lift their mother’s top to stroke their belly. Ick. In what reality is this all NOT sexual? If you and your boyfriend take your relationship to the next step, be prepared for creepy mommy to view you as competition that needs to be eliminated.”
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Amazon Prime Day 2022: Everything We Know
7 Pistachio Health Benefits to Know
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This content is created and maintained by a third party, and imported onto this page to help users provide their email addresses. You may be able to find more information about this and similar content at piano.io
Advertisement - Continue Reading Below
40 Best Fall Date Ideas You'll Love
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The Best Engagement Quotes to Announce Your News
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We may earn commission from links on this page, but we only recommend products we back.
Why trust us?
I just returned from Blogher . This annual writing conference ,focusing on women's contribution to the web, took place in San Francisco. I had a blast. I adored the panels, networking and the free corporate swag, but the highlight of the trip was hanging out with the girls.
One night we found ourselves surrounded by rum and Diet Coke in an old fashioned dive bar in
, followed by more of the same at Lori's Diner a few blocks down. Chatter about kids led to talk of husbands which led to conversations about boyfriends which ultimately led to smack about sex. And along the subject of smack, one woman, Vy, sputtered, "I LOVE my boyfriend. He is so good to me... soft... and tender. But for God sake, what is wrong with a good smack on the ass?"
She quickly added, "I'm not kidding. I drop hints all the time. I don't know. Is it? Seems the more I chat with women the more diverse answers I get.
Thinking about my own sometimes rowdy, and sometimes tender, sex life, I had to smile at the irony of a spanking. We don't hit our kids, so there would be some serious explaining to do if my son ever walking in on Rex disciplining me across his knees. And, at 6'1, I would feel kind of stupid. "Oh, Rex, slap my butt. But first, can you be a doll and get me a pillow for my legs? They're dragging on the hard wood." (Not * Whether I personally lean toward a good spanking or not you'll never know. *
But I do see Vy's point. There's a time and a place for lovemaking. But there's something hugely sexy when I don't have to think about anything in bed. Like Cher's character in Moonstruck , I want to be swooped up and swung on the bed, against all reasoning and better judgment: Loretta: "Where are you taking me?" Ronny: "To the bed." Loretta: "Oh. Oh God. I don't care about anything. I don't care about anything! Take me to the bed." And he does.
And so does Rex. And a spanking good time is had by all.
* = My mother breathing a sigh of relief, followed by a, "Why did I spend money on four years of Catholic girls high school to have my daughter smack talk about sex on the internet? She soooo deserves a spanking."
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