[F4M] She used to be young too

Debbie frowns. She watches her son storm off to his room from the dinner table. He's an adult, a grown man, but in the way that so many men are today, he's lost, he's still finding his path. And he turns to the old ways. The ways of rock and roll, the ways of punk, the ways of skate culture and weed and rebellion... The ways that don't lead to a future, which is all Debbie hopes for her son to have one day. Another dinner in their home, another dinner she and her husband try to talk to him about maybe finding a job or signing up for community college classes, or even taking that tattooing apprenticeship at the shop he likes getting his ink done at. Another dinner where he storms off and she listens to the muffled songs of Rage Against the Machine coming from his room. Debbie reaches her hand across the table to her husband's, holds it, and sighs. "He's our son, we'll do what we have to, for him," he whispers to Debbie.

---

Debbie frowns. She glances over the local newspaper in the morning, reading it at the table with her mug of coffee next to her and her robe lazily hanging by her shoulders. The HOA page, the community updates page, brings nothing but bad news this morning. The votes are in, there's a demolition to be done. The destruction of the skate park in the neighborhood. The reasons? Apparently its been deemed by the HOA that the skate park attracts "riff raff" and leads to increased rates of vandalism, marijuana use, and late night "tomfoolery that this neighborhood will endure no longer," or at least that's what the paper says. Of course, her son is nowhere to be found this morning. She knows where he is. Out with the others at the park, signs in hand, marching and chanting and protesting, raging against the machine so to speak. He puts more energy into this park than he does his future, which to most parents would scream irresponsibility, but to Debbie, a mother, a woman, a person that used to be his age, it screams of nothing short of passion. She remembers marching in protests at her college campus, she remembers standing up for what she believed in. Protests never got her hired. But they let her sleep easy, sleep without regret at night.

---

Debbie smiles warmly. She reaches her hand across the table, shaking the representative's hand. A meeting with a member of the HOA board, at the HOA offices. She made sure to wear something nice. Fitting jeans, casual chunky heels, a low-cut tshirt, a blazer. She offers some warm words, some intellectual rebuttals, some statistics she found in papers and printed out. The representative nods along to each of her points but insists the decision is out of his hands. Then Debbie stands and walks around the desk. Her knees find the floor. Her low-cut top serves its purpose. Apparently the decision was never in his hands, it was in her mouth this whole time.

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Debbie sits back and smiles. Its a warm summer night. The wind rustles the leaves and the grass. The sky is clear. The streetlamps at the skate park are still off but they're scheduled to come back on later this week. The park is empty, save for Debbie and her son. They're waiting on new permits from the city before they can reopen, but Debbie didn't care, a little trespassing never killed anyone. She and her son came to the park. She asked him to show her his tricks. Debbie watched him dip into the bowl, go up and down the slopes, drop into the halfpipe, ollie down the stairs. She clapped, she ooo'd and she aaa'd for him. Debbie dressed in his style too: black skinny jeans with rips going up her thighs, a white strappy tank top, a pair of Vans' skater shoes. Not that she had to go shopping for this outfit, these clothes have long been in her closet collecting dust. And now she sits on the edge of the rim with her son looking up at the night sky. Debbie tells him stories from when she was a younger woman, when she would go out at night and do stupid things, all the ways she used to disappoint her parents, and most importantly, how her parents were never really disappointed, just worried. How Debbie is just worried about him. But she's never had a problem with him. Debbie reaches into her tank top and produces a blunt and a lighter. She takes a couple tries to get the lighter going, but then the joint is lit. Debbie passes it back and forth with him. She's already forgotten what the dealer felt like inside of her.

---

Debbie gasps, she grunts, she moans. Debbie has her arms wrapped around the headrest of the car seat. Her thighs burn with fatigue but she doesn't stop using them to lift her body before dropping herself back down on her son's lap. The steering wheel rubs against her ass uncomfortably but she doesn't care. She groans in delight, a warm weed haze clouding her mind and the smoke from the joint still wafting through the car, still clouding it up. God, when was the last time she hotboxed a car? In the parking lot with her coworker that one time? It must have been. But that time wasn't like this. Debbie wasn't giving her son the ride of his life and showing him that she used to be young like him, that she knows how he thinks, that she loves him and can meet him where he's at, that she isn't a boring old bitch yet.

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Hi all, I'm sure you can gather that this is a mother-son thing. Looking to write this on discord. Please write in third person, multiple paragraphs per post. Its definitely looking rather female-led here which I think is the goal to a degree. We can work out the specifics of Debbie's marriage, the dynamic in the neighborhood (re: HOA, the dealer), and generally broader direction for the story (I do have some ideas of what I'd like to see) in our conversations. I enjoy deep characterizing and plotting, so please come ready for OOC chatting!

I think the story is really about Debbie trying to connect to her son and show him that she gets him, she isn't just some old bitch mom hounding him about a job, but she understands him and she used to think like him, act like him. She used to hang out at skate parks and suck off whoever did the coolest trick that day. She used to go and protest and risk her body and her legal standing for the things she believes in. She used to hate her parents and rebel against them. And, much like her son, Debbie never took the time to understand her parents and their perspective. That's what Debbie is trying to do. Show her son that she is on his side.

Her priorities are different, she wants him to have a future and all. But she's his mother, she loves him unconditionally, she's his number 1 fan, possibly second only to his father. Pulling a joint out from her cleavage and fucking her son... She knows guys his age sometimes think of their moms, and she's not so wrinkly as to damn him for it. If her son connects best when his dick is inside her, so be it. He can hump her if he practices his tattooing skills on her body, on her stomach and legs and ass and tits, so he can get that apprenticeship job. She'll fight alongside him to protect his interests and the things he cares for like the skatepark. And she'll keep her legs open for his dealer so he doesn't have to keep spending his allowance on weed. She's on his side. He just has to be on Debbie's side too. They have the same goals, just different priorities, different ideas of how to get there, and different ideas of what repercussions can look like. Debbie isn't trying to silence his dreams or redirect his interests or change him. She's just trying to guide him into something she thinks looks like long-term stability, into something that looks like success.

Hope to hear from you!