I got up, stumbled into my private bathroom, switched on the light, and then vent fan. But first, I needed to wash the greasy feel of the bars from my skin and the stale cigarette smoke from my hair. That translated to 'Cook a messy breakfast for myself, harassment free!' In my tipsy head. Mom wouldn't be gone at that time unless she had been called out to work, meaning she could be gone anywhere from 3 to 8 days. I hadn't gotten home until 2:45 am that morning, happy to see that Mom's car was gone. I expected a righteous hangover, and was surprised when I found that I was yet still drunk from my previous night out with friends.

Needless to say, I tended to stick to the sanctity of my precious cave whenever I spent time at the house.Īfter triple checking the time on my wall clock, I drowsily sat up and assessed my current condition. She thankfully tended to avoid the basement, claiming it was cold and that she needed more sun light in her daily routine. To make matters worse, my crazy nineteen-year-old sister Angie had also recently gotten kicked out of her place and was also forced to move back home, along with all of her invasive annoying habits. I'm a private person, and after spending a year on my own, even a little bit of pestering was way too much. Regardless, she was still my mother, and even with a traveling advertising career that kept her away for weeks at a time, she still found plenty of opportunity to coddle and nag at me during her time-off. She did an outstanding job all the same, giving her two kids fair boundaries and expectations while simultaneously keeping a respective distance and trusting generously. She didn't have an easy time raising my sister and me by herself. I was nineteen, ill-prepared, and in absolute dread of moving back home.ĭon't get me wrong, I love my mom. Within a month I was jobless and homeless. He sold them the leases to the four houses he owned on the end of my block.the last of which was my house. They also dropped a little cash off at my landlord's place.

Just one year later, a shopping mall quietly bought up every business on my block, including my store. I found a decent job at a thrift store on the same block, and started my solo life at the age of 18. I moved downtown into a grubby old townhouse on the older side of the city. At least the rent was cheap, which was a nice consolation from my prior bad luck.Īfter senior year of high school, I couldn't wait to find my own place. The place's only downside was its location-it was half of my mother's basement. I had just as much space as I needed I had my own full-bathroom, even a half-assed kitchenette. My 'cave,' the loft-sized room I had been renting from my mother for the last year, was almost perfect. Sunlight finally roused me from my sleep at one thirty in the afternoon, shining into my room from the single window well above my bed. *This story is a complete work of fiction*

Easytime erotic encounters