So maybe I am a little fucked in the head. Maybe I am a degenerate. But if I am, then my mother is at least partially to blame.
I grew up an only child in the 1970s. My mother was addicted to abusive men (including my father). I spent the majority of my childhood cowering in fear, hiding beneath my bed or in closets while my mother's boyfriends smacked her around the house.
The two of us had an "Us against the World" relationship. Mom promised me so many times, things are going to change baby. But they never did. Even when my mother managed to latch on to a genuine nice guy, she wasted no time in losing him. She didn't respect men who treated her right. She'd cheat on them and manipulate them for as long as she could get away with it, until either they broke up with her or she had gotten as much out of them as she could and then it was back to the abusive types she loved so much.

I didn't put things together until I was around twelve or thirteen years old. My mother got some sort of sexual gratification from being dominated and abused. All my life I'd suffered through an emotional roller coaster of fear for her safety and frustration and shame at my inability to protect her and the whole fucking time she'd been getting off on it. Playing games with my head, filling my dreams with bullshit promises of things being better one day, when all the time she never wanted things to get better.
We often lived in cheap low rent dives with paper thin walls and on so many nights I'd lie quietly in my room and listen to her have sex with whatever man she was seeing at the time. I'd have to listen to their moaning and groaning and the bed springs squeaking away, all the while feeling a mixture of shame and confusion over my emerging sexuality and the hardons I'd get from listening to mom have sex.
I started acting out at school and getting into fights. My student counselor suggested I take up a sport as a means to channel my aggression. I picked football. Although only a sophomore, I was put up on the offensive line for the varsity team. At age sixteen I was over 6'' tall and a solid 265 pounds. I could bench press more than anyone else on the varsity squad, including the coaches.

Once when I'd been younger and smaller I had tried to protect my mother from one guy by stepping in between them. He backhanded me literally out of my shoes. That was never going to happen again.
I came home from school and my mom was nursing a bloody nose. I didn't have to ask what happened or why, I walked to her bedroom without saying a word. She followed behind me pulling at me, trying to make me stop. She just pissed me off more.
I saw her boyfriend Larry relaxing on the bed. He was a tall pot bellied black guy with a serious aversion to work. He had been living off mom and me for the better part of six months. I charged him.
By the time I was done I had him by a fistful of hair and the seat of his pants and I chucked his ass out the front door. He had managed to put several scratches on the back of my neck, like a bitch with his long feminine fingernails but I had busted his own nose and knocked several of his nicotine stained yellow teeth out. They lay scattered across the bedroom carpet like rotten chicklets.
After I tossed his clothes out on the grass I told him in no uncertain terms what would happen if I ever caught him so much as looking in my mother's direction again. Then I whirled on my mother and told her she'd bust shut the fuck up and get back inside the house.
That night sitting in what had been "Larry's" chair and watching TV, while my mom sat quietly in her room alternately sobbing quietly and starring at the teeth she had lovingly picked up and placed in a match box I finally felt in control of my life. And it felt great.

The next day was a weekend and I didn't go to school. I got up early and cleaned the house, making sure to open the windows and allow sunlight in. Larry had always kept the place as dark and morose as a vampire's den.
When mom crawled out of bed we had a talk. Things were going to change and I was the boss now. If she wanted to be dominated, I figured it might as well be my me. At least she wouldn't need to visit any emergency rooms that way.
Things improved dramatically. As long as I treated her like a child and raised my voice from time to time she was just as happy as a pig in shit.
I decided to see how far I could take it.
I walked in on her taking a bath one afternoon. She covered her tits real quick and squawked about how I shouldn't be in the room.
"I have to piss," I told her. "It ain't like I haven't seen a naked woman before and I'm pretty sure you've seen plenty of dicks."
She just sat in the tub with her arms across her breasts while I unzipped my jeans and pulled my cock out right in front of her and pissed. She never took her eyes of my dick once.
When I was finished I washed my hands and casually left the bathroom. After that I began regularly walking in on her and she never said a word. After a while she didn't even bother covering up.
As a way to earn a little extra money I did yardwork around the neighborhood. Somedays after being paid I'd come home and give some of the cash to mom. The first time she was standing at the sink washing dishes. I slipped a couple of twenties in her back jeans pocket and patted her ass. She jumped slightly and turned.
"What are you doing??"
I told her I just got paid and gave her half.
"Oh," she smiled weakly.
Then I leaned forward and gave her a kiss, lip to lip but no tongue yet. "From now on I take care of you ok??"
Her smile brightened. "My little man's becoming a big man," she said.
"In more ways than one," I told her, holding her for a moment before letting her go.
Eventually a night came when I was incredibly horny. I sat on the edge of my bed for a while, then made up my mind. I walked to her bedroom and without saying a word I slipped into bed beside her.
She was sleeping. I pulled my shirt off and tossed it aside, then pulled my boxers off and dropped them on the floor. I snuggled up beside her, nuzzling her neck gently with my mouth and nose.
She opened her eyes. "Brother??"
"Yeah ma," I whispered. "It's ok. Just a little cold and lonely in my room."
She lie there awake now and very still as I planted a few kisses on her shoulder and ear. I put an arm around her. She was wearing a silky nightgown. I loved how it felt.
"Brother, we shouldn't," she started to say.
"Shhh," I told her. "Just relax. It's nobody's damn business but our own."
I reached up and groped a tit. It was heavy and soft. I started kissing and nibbling on her neck and ear again, she moaned softly.
After a minute or so I felt her reach back and feel for my cock. When she found it, she wrapped a hand around it and began stroking it gently.
I pulled the straps of her nightgown down, exposing her tits and rolled her over onto her back. I wasn't interested in much foreplay, I wanted pussy. I mounted her and began riding her hard and rough. I stayed in her room the entire night.

That was pretty much our relationship during my final years in high school and my two years in community college. When I was ready to leave home to finish my education at a 4-year school, I told mom she was now free to once again find herself a douchebag that would slap her around and treat her like filth or maybe she could surprise me and find a nice guy.
It didn't take her long to find a douchebag. I didn't care anymore. I had my own life and she had hers.