The house was submerged in the silence of the late night, the clock approaching two in the morning. Yasser was still sitting in front of his computer screen in his room, headphones over his ears, the game volume turned so low it was almost inaudible. He was playing a secret match, moving with intense focus, his fingers flying across the keyboard and mouse as he tried not to make any sound that might wake anyone in the house. The faint blue glow from the screen was the only light illuminating his face.
Suddenly, he felt a fierce thirst. His throat was dry from hours of concentration without drinking. He slowly lifted the headphones from his ears, turned off the game, and stood up quietly. He opened his bedroom door a crack and peered into the dark hallway: no one. The house was completely silent, only the faint ticking of the living room wall clock breaking the stillness.
He descended the stairs with careful steps, his bare feet barely making a sound against the cold steps. When he reached the bottom, he headed toward the kitchen, but stopped abruptly. From the small living room, he heard strange sounds: quick, muffled female breathing, deep sighs, and a man's husky whispers coming from the television, mixed with wet, rhythmic bodily sounds: *shlick... shlick... plap-plap...* Then the woman in the film moaned in a whisper: "Ah… more… yes… just like that…"
He hesitated for a second, then moved closer with slower steps. The door leading to the living room was partially open, a faint blue light spilling from the TV. He gently pushed the door… and saw.
His mother was sitting on the couch, the flickering light from the screen reflecting across her body. She wore a very short black silk nightshirt, open at the front, revealing her heavy, full breasts that rose and fell violently with every breath. Her light pink hair was spread across her shoulders and chest, strands sticking to her skin from the light sweat. Her legs were spread wide, her right hand between her thighs, long fingers sliding in and out at a fast rhythm, producing clear wet sounds: *squish... squelch... gluck-gluck...* Her entire body trembled, stomach muscles clenching, breasts shaking with every movement.
On the television, the woman in the film was crying out in a broken voice: "Aaaah… deeper… ah… yes… like that!" mixed with the man's rough voice: "Take it all… ah… just like that, baby…" and the accelerating sounds of flesh slapping: *plap-plap-plap... shlick-shlick...*
His mother was almost in sync with the rhythm. Soft moans escaped her parted lips: "Mmm… ah… ah…" Then deeper, more strained sounds: "Ah… oh god… like that… like that…" Her hand moved faster, fingers plunging deeper, creating loud wet noises: *squelch-squelch... glorp...* Her head was tilted back, eyes closed, lips trembling, and her body arched slightly each time she hit a certain spot.
Yasser felt a sudden tension surge through his entire body. His heart pounded so hard he could hear it in his ears. His face flushed instantly, heat rushing to his head. He couldn't stay a second longer. He turned quickly, his feet moving almost silently, but in his haste he lightly bumped into the edge of the stairs. A soft sound echoed in the silence: *thud*.
In the living room, his mother heard it. Her hand froze immediately, eyes widening. She grabbed the remote quickly, turned off the TV, and the screen went black in an instant, the sounds cutting off abruptly. She snatched a light robe from the side of the couch and covered herself fast, her heart racing violently. She stood up, staring toward the stairs, but saw no one. She let out a deep sigh, trying to calm herself, then quietly went up to her room, closing the door behind her in silence.
Yasser reached his room, quickly shut the door behind him, and stood there breathing heavily. His face was burning red, heat spreading through his whole body. He sat on the edge of the bed, trying to steady himself, but the scene was burned into his mind: his mother's body under the blue light, her heavy breasts shaking, her hand moving between her thighs, her soft moans of "Ah… like that…" mixed with the wet sounds and muffled cries from the film.
He tried to push the thought away, but it came back stronger. He sat in the darkness, trying to focus on anything else—the game, school, anything. But the tension wouldn't leave him. After a few minutes, he lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to sleep. But sleep didn't come. He kept tossing and turning, the scene replaying in his head over and over, the sounds echoing in his ears: *squish... ah… plap-plap... like that…*
The next morning, the house would be quiet as usual, but something had changed inside Yasser. Something small, embarrassing, and forbidden. He would never speak of it, but it would remain there, floating in his memory every time he looked at his mother or heard her footsteps in the hallway.