Caroling at The Inn-Between

My life would have been much simpler if I'd have loved Carol from the beginning. Well I guess most of our lives are littered with sentences that start with 'If only…'

I'm not sure where to start, so I'll begin in the middle. Carol wasn't 'The girl next door,' she was the girl inside my own door. Our mother's shared ownership of an inn that sat in the valley between the White and Green Mountains of Vermont, and with small apartments at opposite ends of the inn, we all lived together.

The Inn-Between was full of assumptions. The main one was that Carol and I would one day marry and take over the inn. We were great friends and I guess I did love her as a friend; unfortunately Carol really fell in love hard with me right from the start. I was the boy that played with her, protected her, and was by her side almost every day.

She told me her secrets and would change anything she thought I disapproved of; I was the one she asked to 'practice' making out with. It stills breaks my heart that I wasn't in love with her. It didn't stop me from marrying her. It's just too easy for a stone to roll down a hill.

There are two other Carols in my life, Carol's mom and my mom. I'm not trying to be confusing; those are their names. Even though we weren't related, Carol's mom was Aunt Carol since I was eight, so that's what it stayed even after I married her daughter.

Ever since I could remember, I loved Aunt Carol because she was always fussing around me, telling me how handsome I was. She never missed an opportunity to tell me how much I looked and sounded like my father. Even though I had no memory of him, or of his dying, I liked hearing that I looked like him, and I liked that I was named for him.

My mom – I started that sentence and it hit me how hard it's going to be to write about her. There's a jangled feeling, as if my blood was carbonated, that's going through me. My mom, Carolyn Lee, called Carol by most, is why I'm no longer married to Carol.

My mom, whom I thought loved me, and then hated me, and then loved me again, was and is at the center of my life. The 'Hate' part lasted for a couple of years when I was between sixteen and eighteen. Usually it's the adolescent, hormonal, rebellious, acting-out that causes all the problems, but in our case I know it was mom. I found out why later, but it didn't hurt any less when I went to Aunt Carol and asked her why everything I did was wrong and why my mother hated me. Aunt Carol would always defend her and say that it was the stress of the business, or being alone, and that it had nothing to do with me.

Before the 'Black Period' as I came to think of it, mom was always sweet and loving and flirty with me. And after that bad time we teased again and she often played the coquette with me. The erotic tension that was between us was about as out in the open as it could be, without being out in the open. When I asked her why she didn't go out more she'd say because there aren't men like me out there, and I'd tell her she had a better body than any girl I'd slept with. We 'Joked' that it was too bad we were related.

The joking ended one evening, six months before I married Carol, when mom came into the kitchen as I sat with coffee and the paper. Mom said, "I saw the movies on your dresser when I brought your shirts in; did you leave them there because you wanted me to see them?"

I hesitated, "Maybe mom, I don't know, I didn't think of it that way, but probably I wanted you to know."

"They're all about the same thing, aren't they Mickey? All about mothers and sons having sex."

Not all of them mom," I said, "Some are about mother's and sons making love."

She said, "Oh…" She waited and then said, "The one that was called 'A Husband for Mom,' does the son…marry the mother?"

"Well sort of," I said, "They're just fantasies mom, don't you have them?"

"Sure baby, we all do. I just didn't think that you were so serious about…thinking about us…like that."

"I guess now you know mom. And what about you, we've been playing this game for a while between us. Just because we didn't say anything doesn't mean we both didn't know. I always felt that you were thinking about something more between us, just like me."

"I did…I do…think about, and this is all so crazy…talking to you about it, but I guess we can't put the genie back in the bottle…"

"So then tell me mom, how do you think about us?"

She smiled, "My fantasy isn't that 'Fantastic.' I'm a bit younger…and better looking," she laughed. "And we live together, and love together. We take care of each other…and that's all…we just love each other." I could see the tears forming in her eyes.

"That's a beautiful fantasy mom," I said. "I love it." I kissed her cheek and she trembled a little in my arms. "And by the way, mom, you couldn't be better looking." She let out a small explosive laugh that took with it the sadness. "Seriously mom, I remember how all my friends would look at you."

"That was a long time ago," she said.

"Mom, did you ever hear the story of the rich guy who has three girlfriends, a blonde, a brunette and a redhead?"

She was hesitant. "Uh, no…"

"Okay, so this guy decides he wants to get married and tests the three women to see which would be the best choice." He says to all of them, 'If I gave you ten thousand dollars, what would you do with it?' The blonde says, 'I would spend it on things to make me more beautiful for you.' The brunette says, 'I'd spend half on presents for me and half on presents for you.' The redhead says, 'I'd spend it all on you.' So which one does he marry?"

Mom said, "I don't know, which one?"

I said, "The one with the big boobs." She laughed until all her tension was gone.

"Mom," I said, "I told you that story because you still have boobs good enough for someone to marry you for."

She slapped my arm and laughed again, and then after a moment said, "Oh God…" She held me in a way that seemed to be searching for answers and I responded with tender strokes on her back to tell her how I felt.

She said, "Mickey I'm so afraid, I'm dragging you into something I don't know if I can do, all this talk is going to get us both crazy. Oh sweetheart, I just don't know…anything."

I thought for a minute and said, "Let's just say you didn't have a choice. Maybe one day I'd get a little crazy and tie you to a chair." I urged her to sit and she looked at me wide-eyed without saying anything. I went to the utility drawer and brought out a handful of packaging twine. I took her wrists behind the chair and tied them just firm enough to hold. You could hear both of our breaths. I tied each ankle to a chair leg as my mother watched. I don't think either of us knew where this would lead.

I said, "Then it would be all my fault." I stood behind her and leaned over and kissed her cheek. I kissed her neck and face up to the corner of her lips. She turned her head and opened her mouth trying to kiss me. I didn't let her.

I kissed behind her neck and unbuttoned the top four buttons on her blouse. I pulled the blouse behind her shoulders further restricting her. Her breasts were jutting and I kissed the soft flesh that was forced up over the top of her bra. She said, "Oh God." I kissed over her bra and then pressed the tip between my lips. All I could see was a darkened area, but I could feel the nipple under the soft bra. I kissed up the front of her neck and over her chin. This time I allowed her parted lips to meet mine.

My mother had kissed me on a thousand occasions, as I had kissed her, but this was the first kissed we shared. Her lips were soft and beckoning and her tongue met mine in her mouth. She made a sweet sound as my hand caressed her breast. I accelerated as my hardness pressed on her arm. After the long and deepening kiss, I began unbuttoning her jeans. I unzipped it as far as I could and went down and kissed over her panties. I couldn't reach her pussy and as I hooked my thumbs into the jeans and panties at her hips, she said, "Stop baby…we have to stop." She was almost breathless.

I inhaled to catch my own breath and blew out a long stream of air. I said, "Carolyn lee, I love you."

I untied her and she said, "You're so good, baby. Thank you." She kissed me long, holding my face and said, "Mickey Lee, I love you; we have to stop." She looked a bit embarrassed and left the kitchen. I don't think I ever masturbated more than I did that night.

The next day, she asked me to take a walk with her. We sat by the stream where the woods began and she said, "Mickey, what happened yesterday can never happen again. It's my fault and I'm sorry baby." I tried to say something but she said, "No honey, let me finish. I was selfish and I was wrong. You're twenty, I'm forty, I'm your mother, and I don't have the sense to see how much damage this can cause? I love you, I love Carol, I love her mom. My God. Mickey, I'm serious, no more. No more playing, no more. You have a life to live and I'm…going to have to do something with myself."

"Mom just let me say something…"

"No baby." She was adamant. " We're not going to say anything about this…we're never going to say anything about this…we're going to go on, and live our lives, the way we should." Nothing would make her listen, nothing in the following weeks and nothing in the following months.

When the topic of marriage came up, and boy did it, all the Carols lined up behind it. There were so many reasons to do it. I was Carol's first and only, she loved me, having the business together made sense, the thing with mom was done, she was a good person, and I genuinely liked her in and out of bed; I relented.

The first six months were fine, new beginnings, everything was fresh; we played house in the new place we bought about a half mile from The Inn Between. We took more responsibility for running the business…the three Carols and me – one big happy family.

The next six months were literally and figuratively the winter months; I didn't feel warm anymore. When Christmas came we did the show that we always did at the inn. When they were younger, Mom and Aunt Carol sang in a group that performed locally, but when my dad died and Aunt Carol got divorced, it ended. They taught Carol and me to sing and we got a little 'act' together.

In addition to the usual jokes from the skiers at the inn about the Carols singing carols, I knew I was in bad shape when the Christmas songs we sang all got me depressed. I knew what I knew from the beginning, I wasn't in love. I thought I could 'Fix' that, make it work, change her, change me, change the situation – stupid, stupid, stupid.

I thought about my mother all the time. Since we stopped playing the 'game' I wanted her even more. The experience we had together convinced me that she wanted me too. The summer months, when the inn was busiest were the worst. I saw her every day, I inhaled her fragrance; I wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to love her – and why did she have to wear those damned tank tops?

She never did anything or said anything to lead me on; she acted 'normal,' but I could see it in her eyes, in her body, as it unwillingly responded to me. I was sure that it was as much on her mind as it was on mine. Then there were the times I said something too nice, or came too close, or touched her arm too intimately. She was always aware and guarded; her eyes flashed, her body withdrew. Once she just said, "We can't."

Maybe if Carol and I had a child, I would have ridden it out, but we didn't. And it wasn't for lack of trying. My wife liked sex and I liked it with her. It may not have been adventurous, but it was fun and we wanted a baby. By the time we found out that she couldn't conceive, and another year had passed, the disparity in our feelings became evident. It would have cruel to adopt at that point. She realized I didn't love her as I should, and I couldn't do anything about it.

Thinking about the night I chose to tell her that it had to end, still makes me uncomfortable. I asked her to go for a ride and I told her in the car. When I said that we should separate and get a divorce, you would have thought it was all news to her. She said, "I know things haven't been that good between us, but I thought we were doing better, I think we can work it out, I'll try harder."

I couldn't bring myself to use the cliché that goes, 'It's not you, it's me' - even though that was the truth of the situation, so I just said, "I'm sorry…I'm so fond of you, but I just can't do it anymore."

She started crying and my heart broke for her as she kept saying, "But I love you…I love you…" I put my arm around her and didn't say anything as she cried quietly. And then the last fucking thing in the world I expected, happened. She started kissing my neck and my face and went to my lips. I automatically kissed the woman who had been so good to me. I was so conflicted. Do I stop her and hurt her now or do I let it go on and hurt her later? She said, "Mickey, make love to me one more time."

Fuck. I gave in. I started touching her and she said, "No, take me to the Piedmont, like you used to." That was the hotel we went to when we started having sex and didn't want our moms to know. I knew it probably wasn't the right thing to let her think that in some way we might re-kindle the past, but again I took the path of least resistance.

When we got to the room, I knew what she wanted. She always came hard when I took her in my mouth. As soon as we got into the room I took her pants and panties off and positioned her on the bed. I stayed dressed and without any of our usual foreplay, I went down on her. Her pussy was wet and I did what she liked; long licks on her folds and gentle probing with my tongue. When she was ready I pressed her clit with the flat of my tongue and then used the tip to circle the periphery of her sensitive button. When I took it between my lips and massaged it, she abruptly came.

It started with the sounds of a woman coming…"Oh Mickey, oh, oh, oh…" and after the initial crests subsided, the sounds became tearful and then angry. She was still saying "Oh…oh…oh…" but the pleasure was gone. She was hitting my shoulders and my back and my head with her hands and fists. I didn't move away until she stopped. Listening to her cry hurt much more than her fists. We didn't say anything on the way home. I stayed in the car until she got in the door and I drove to the inn.

I let myself in and I went to my mother's apartment. I knew Aunt Carol wouldn't hear me because she was on the opposite end. I knocked softly and when she asked who it was, I told her and used the key I hadn't given back to get in. She started asking me what the matter was and I said, "Mom, it's over between Carol and I, over. I told her tonight and it's finished. This is our chance for a beginning mom; let's not throw it away. Just don't say anything, just let me love you."

In thinking about it later I guess there was a transition I wanted to make from what happened that night with Carol and what I wanted to happen with my mother. It was stuck in my head that I wanted nothing more than to go down on her.

I pulled the sheet off her and reached under the nightgown to pull her panties off. She must have thought I wanted to have sex inside her and she opened her legs and arms for me to come to her. I put my head between her legs and started licking her with a new passion that was aroused in me. I was hard as I could be and frenetic as I licked and sucked the pussy I wanted so much. I paid no attention the techniques I knew in my head and let my mouth and lips dictate the form and pace of the sex. It wasn't long before my mom said, "Baby, you're making me come, OH…OH…I'm coming, I'm coming…"

My mother came in my mouth as I sucked her and I was unrelenting when she finished. She wanted me to hold her, and come to her, but I couldn't stop. I kept up the massaging and licking of her vagina and hood and clit until she couldn't take it anymore and came again.

The third time she came, she covered her face with the pillow and screamed into it. I had licked her clit directly with a single persistent up and down motion that was relentless. After that, she lay splayed and exhausted. I went up to her and said, "I have to go now, but I love you Carolyn lee, I love you, I love you." I kissed her mouth and didn't let her speak. I could have made love to her all night, but I wanted our beginning to be only a memory of my pleasuring her.

During the next days, the 'Exchange' took place. Aunt Carol went to stay with her daughter in the house and I moved back into the inn, into her apartment. I thought I would really be spending the time at my mother's, but that wasn't to be. For the life of me I couldn't understand it, but mom kept saying, "You're married," and that was the end of it. She wasn't letting me near her while she felt there was a chance Carol and I would get back together.

Months later, when the legal wrangling was over, we sold our part of the inn to them. I gave Carol the house even though the lawyer said I didn't have to. It was a great relief to me when I heard that she had started dating.

Mom and looked for another business and found a small complex of beach apartments in Jacksonville that we bought with our share from the inn. The day the divorce became final was the last day mom and I would spend at the inn.

That night my mother and I shared champagne in her apartment and there was no resistance when I kissed her. There was no resistance when I touched her. I put my hand in her blouse and fondled her as we kissed. I lifted off her top and she reached behind to unhook her bra. Her full breasts came free and I looked at them and said, "Carolyn Lee, you are unbelievable." Her happy smile warmed me.

Her nipples and areolas were dark and stood out. It made her breasts look even bigger than they did with her bra on. I took one in my hand and kissed the top. I kissed the soft bulge on the side and was struck at how soft the flesh was on my lips. As I came closer to her nipple, I could hear my mother drawing deeper breaths. Finally I took the hardened tip between my lips and drew on it. When the whole areola was in my mouth, I licked and flicked it with my tongue and mom began to writhe.

I was so relieved to finally have her in my hands and be free of the past. I said, "Mom, we're finally here, we went from you loving me, to hating me, to wanting me to, stopping me…and it's finally over isn't it? We're going to be together now aren't we?

"Yes baby," she said. "But I never hated you sweetheart. It was just so hard for me after your father died and then you grew up to look so much like him." She urged me back to her breast and I sucked on her nipples again, getting harder and harder as I caressed my mother's ample flesh. She held my head and said, "I guess I was angry at you for not being him and probably angry with myself for naming you after him because I had to hear his name all the time. Whenever I looked at you, I saw him. I'm so sorry baby if I treated you badly. I just needed him so much…for everything."

She hardly ever spoke about my father, but now it came out all at once. "I could tell him anything, any problem I had, and somehow he made it better, even if he didn't do anything. He loved me, he held my hand, he made love to me and after the blink of an eye it was all gone. Mick, it was all in the blink of an eye." I stopped what I was doing to talk to her, but she said, "NO, don't stop, don't stop."

I took her other breast and as my lips and tongue worked the nipple, she continued talking. "But I know it's okay now because I can put that in the past and I have part of him back, in you. And it's wonderful because you're also you, my beautiful boy that I love so much, the one who's going to love me and the one I'm going to love. Mickey, that's what I missed the most, having someone to love, someone to give to. Baby, come hold me."