I put down the phone and smiled. All my friends were coming. They had been like me, feeling guilty we hadn’t talked, and said they would love to get together for a pool party and relive old times. I silently thanked Shane for his great idea, and made a mental note to tell him in person when he got home from work.
I spent the morning by the pool, and had a late lunch. As I walked back to my room, I passed Shane’s office. He owned a small electronics supply company, and his home office was usually full of interesting devices. When I was younger, I used to come in here and he would show me them and how they worked. Things like miniature radios, mp3 players, and tiny video cameras. I loved that he was so smart to understand all of this, but I loved even more that he would take the time to explain it to me. At that point, my infatuation with him was normal — just a girl getting to know her mother’s boyfriend. But all that changed one day when I came in here by myself.
I was thirteen at the time, and beginning to understand my own sexuality. I was physically well-developed for my age, but my social development lagged behind. I was vaguely aware of what sex was, and I had kissed a few boys. Several months before I had allowed Mark Gratton — a boy a year older than me — to touch my breast through my clothes in a movie theater. But when he tried to go further and slide his hand up my thigh, I stopped him.
But my physical reaction to his touch had surprised me, as I felt the early stirrings of desire spark within me. My nipple had stiffened instantly, and I felt a warm wetness growing between my legs. When I got home, I took my panties off and discovered they were damp. I worried that Mom would think I peed in them, so I shoved them under my mattress instead of putting them in the laundry hamper. That night I laid awake thinking of Mark’s hand on me, and I surprised myself again by wishing I had let him continue up my thigh.
I went into Shane’s office knowing he and my mom had gone to visit his parents, but I wanted to look around anyway. I sat in his chair and spun around a few times, taking in all the interesting gadgets around me. Picking one up, I examined it closely, wishing Shane was here to explain what it was.
I set it down and something else caught my eye. It was shoved into a cubby hole of the hutch where his computer sat, and it looked like a music CD. Pulling it out, I saw it was a homemade DVD in a clear case. On the front, there were two handwritten words: Hawaii Video.
I stared at it curiously. My mother had met Shane three years prior, when I was ten years old. She was thirty-one at the time, and he was twenty-two. I remember my grandmother not being happy with their difference in ages, but to me, he was just Shane. I never thought of him as my father, but just a nice guy who was around. I had never known my real father, because my Mom told me he wasn’t responsible enough to be a dad, so she left him before I was born. That was probably the reason she and Shane never got married — she was afraid of being left again.
Hawaii Video. I stared at the DVD. Mom and Shane had gone to Hawaii for two weeks while Grandma came and stayed with me. I remembered them bringing back a ton of photos, each more beautiful than the last. Gorgeous blue skies and water, along with unending beaches dominated each photo. When I looked at the pictures, I told them I wished they had taken me along with them. But they looked at each other and laughed, and said maybe next time.
But I didn’t recall seeing any videos from the trip. And I was sure I would have remembered. I flipped the case over in my hand. If this video was half as beautiful as the photos, I had to see it.
I carried it out to the living room and popped open the DVD player. After removing the Britney Spears concert DVD I’d been watching earlier, I replaced it with the Hawaii DVD.
I grabbed the remote and sat on the couch, prepared to be astounded by more beautiful scenery. But the first image that came up was of a hotel room. The camera was still as if it was sitting on something, and it was pointed directly at the bed. I could hear the faint sound of voices, and I listened intently.
A woman giggled and said, “I can’t do this, I’m too shy.” I realized it was my mom.
Shane’s voice said, “It’s ok. We don’t have to.”
None of this was making sense to me. What kind of Hawaii video was this?
After a moment of silence, my mom’s voice returned. “I think I want to.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. Just thinking about it is making me excited.”
“Me too.”
“I can tell.” She giggled again.
I stared at the screen, my thirteen year old brain trying to figure it out. Why were they filming a bed?
My mom climbed onto the bed, and my eyes widened when I saw she was naked.
Oddly enough, it wasn’t her being naked that struck me as strange. I had seen her that way plenty of times, and she never made a big deal out of it. But what surprised me was that she was naked with Shane.
At that time, in my immature mind, your naked body was something you hid from boys. It had been ingrained in me since the time I had taken all my clothes off in the middle of preschool. Boys want to see you naked, and it was your womanly duty to not let them.
But here was my mom, not only naked in front of Shane, but seemingly enjoying herself, and not covering up. And although I kinda knew what sex was, it never occurred to me that you had to get naked to do it. When I had fantasized about Mark touching me between my legs, that seemed to be ok. But I could never let him see what he was touching. That was against the rules.
Mom sat on the bed, leaning back against the headboard and pillows. She was blushing, and had one arm over her breasts and the other cupped between her legs. Much better. She was covering the important parts.
After a moment, she looked right above the camera, giggled, and said, “This isn’t a solo act. Get in here.”
“One sec,” Shane replied, and I saw the camera pan slightly, centering Mom in the frame. Then a dark shape passed in front of the lens, which moved away from the camera. I recognized it as Shane’s muscular back, which I had seen plenty of times in our pool.
My mouth dropped open again as he climbed up onto the bed, and his naked butt came into view. That was something I had never seen, nor wanted to. I clamped my eyes shut and listened.
I heard the bed shifting, then some kissing sounds. I had seen Mom and Shane kiss before, so I opened my eyes. Mom was lying on her back, slightly turned towards Shane as he lay at her side. Their bodies were pressed together as they kissed, and the sheet was covering his butt, so it was ok to keep watching.
His hand was running up and down her back, sliding up onto her butt and squeezing her there. Her arms were around him, pulling him down to her. I could see the side of her breast pushing out from where their bodies pressed together.
I became aware that I was getting that feeling again. The same one I had with Mark. I felt tingly all over and there was a tightening in my belly, as if I was going to be sick, but it didn’t hurt at all. And the wetness was there again.
They stopped kissing and smiled at each other.
“I love you so much,” Mom said.
“And I love you, my sweet.”
This was their typical mushy talk, which I usually got grossed out from, but now I watched them with fascination.
“Are you relaxed now?” Shane asked.
“Mm,” Mom replied, “I feel good. Let’s make a movie starring us.”
“You’ll always be my star.”
They kissed again, and Shane’s hand trailed down over her hip, crossing over to her front. She turned her hips to give him room between them, and his hand slid between her legs, cupping her there. She sighed and spread her thighs as his hand moved slowly between them.
I stared at the screen, my eyes as wide as saucers. What were they doing? Is that what Mark wanted to do to me?
They continued to kiss, and I noticed that Shane had slipped one finger between the lips of her poony, and was pressing it deep. And from her reaction, she was enjoying it very much.
They did this for a while, as they continued to kiss, and soon Mom began moving her hips up against his hand. I stared unblinking, now wishing even more that I had let Mark touch me there.
Mom’s hand moved up to his shoulder and pressed him there, as if urging him to move off of her. He resisted.
She broke the kiss and smiled. “Baby, if you don’t stop, I’m going to come.”
“Then come,” he whispered.
“Not yet. It’s your turn.”
“If you insist,” he said with a smile and rolled onto his back.
My breath caught in my throat and the world seemed to close in around me as I saw Shane lay back on the bed. My eyes quickly closed again, and I could swear I heard the eyelids as they snapped shut.
Oh my god. I didn’t see that. I didn’t see that. I couldn’t have seen that. It was only my imagination.
One time, when I was in sixth grade, I was sitting by myself at lunch. A group of boys at the next table were looking at something and laughing in hushed tones. I was curious about what they had, and tried to secretly crane my neck to see what it was.
Joey Fatone, an eight-grader and leader of the gang, saw me trying to look, and gave me a leering smile. He walked over to my table, carrying a book.
Sitting beside me, he said, “Do you want to see what we’re laughing about?”
I shrugged, feigning indifference.
“It’s really funny,” he said.
“Ok, sure.”
He put the book in front of me. I could see the rest of his gang watching in anticipation. The book was Mark Twain’s Adventures of Tom Sawyer.
“I already read that,” I said.
He put his finger on the book. “This is a special version. It has something that isn’t in the one you read.”
“What?”
“It’s on page seventy-five. Take a look.”
I reached out and began fanning through the pages. Something was stuck between them, causing my fingers to stop at the gap. It was page seventy-five. I opened the book flat, and there was a photograph lying face down.
I looked at him curiously. “This?” I asked pointing to the picture.
“Yes, turn it over.”
My fingers flipped it over, and my eyes widened in shock. It was a black and white picture of a man sitting in a chair. He was naked and very hairy, and was sitting there with a grin stuck on his face. But my eyes ignored all of that as they focused on his penis.
I had changed the diapers of my nephews, so I had seen one before. But what was in the picture looked nothing like the innocent looking rolls of pink flesh my nephews had. This one was hard and sticking straight up, impossibly long with a swollen head on the end. Large hairy testicles lay below it, and the man’s hand was wrapped around the shaft, which was so thick his fingers didn’t go all the way around.
I snapped the book shut and looked around with wild eyes, hoping a teacher hadn’t seen me. The guy’s table erupted into roaring laughter as I stared at them in shock, my brain refusing to function. Joey reached over to retrieve the book, and leaned into me as he did so. His mouth was close to my ear, and I heard him whisper, “If you ever want to see the real thing, come see me.” He stood and walked back to his table to the cheers of his friends.
Finally finding the ability to move, I stood and fled, leaving the rest of my uneaten lunch behind.
I hadn’t seen anything like it, before or since, until now. Shane had one just like it, only this one was in color.
Maybe I had imagined it. I had transferred that long ago memory to the screen in front of me. Yeah, that was probably it.
I opened my eyes and the shock returned. Not only had I seen what I thought I had seen, by now my Mom’s hand was wrapped around it, moving up and down in a slow pumping motion.
I wanted to close my eyes and shut myself off from this, but I couldn’t. I was like a deer in the headlights, and the truck was bearing down on me.
I realized why I couldn’t look away. This penis may have been like the one in the photo, but it had my mother’s hand around it. And if her hand was around it, that meant it was safe.
I watched curiously as she continued to stroke him, their mouths locked together in an intimate kiss. He seemed to be enjoying it as much as she had enjoyed his hand on her. And they were kissing and smiling.
This was different than what I thought sex would be. I had thought it would be a serious thing, something you put up with because you wanted a baby. But here were Mom and Shane having fun doing it, being playful with each other like they were other times, like when they played in the pool, and he tried to dunk her, and she was giggling and splashing him in the face. My curiosity increased as I realized there was more to this sex thing than I’d thought.
I was starting to get used to my mom’s hand on Shane’s stiff penis, when she shifted her body down and kissed it, then took it into her mouth.
My jaw dropped again, my brain refusing to believe my eyes. That was disgusting! Licking him where he peed from? Yuck!
But as I watched, her head began to move, so that his penis slid in and out of her, and she got a look on her face like she was enjoying it. As a matter of fact, her face looked a lot like the times when she would get out my baby pictures and stare at them, smiling and getting all teary eyed before she took me in her arms and hugged me.
My mind was reeling. My mother was licking Shane where he peed, and she was enjoying it!
And so was he. Very much. He was lying back on the pillow with his eyes closed and a look of contentment on his face, making pleasant sighing sounds as his body twitched.
But even though I could see how much my mom enjoyed doing this, I knew I never could. I tried to imagine myself leaning over and taking Mark’s penis into my mouth, and I giggled from the thought. Nope, not going to happen.
Ever.
And I lived up to that promise, until I was sixteen and in the backseat of Joey Fatone’s Camaro parked out by the reservoir. It was then I finally understood my Mom’s blissful expression from the video.
I gave Joey a lot more than a blowjob that summer, and as I lay in his back seat crying out my pleasure from the exquisite feeling of having my first orgasm with my pussy stuffed full of cock, I knew how my mother felt later in the video, when she did the same as Shane fucked her.
Watching that video changed how I looked at Shane from then on. He was still the same nice guy, but he was also a man, with desires and needs. And I had witnessed how his desire for my mother was intertwined with his love for her. And I finally understood what sex was about.
When Mom died, we were both inconsolable with grief. I was fourteen, which is a rough age anyway for a teenage girl. I shut down and stayed in my room, and Shane, grieving also, allowed me the space I needed. We were separate during that time, but it was a separation with understanding, and we both knew we would find each other again.
It was to his credit that he stuck around. He could have left me to be raised by one of my aunts, but he fought to keep me, and I was happy he did. On the day he was legally granted guardianship, we went out to dinner to celebrate.
It was at the end of our grieving period when I had my revelation. It occurred to me that I was my mother’s daughter, and I was created to eventually take her place in this world. That eventuality had come sooner than anyone expected, but it was still my role to play.
I had to take my mother’s place, and that included the role she served with Shane. I didn’t consider sex part of the deal, at least at first. I just wanted to be there for him, making his meals, cleaning his house, doing his laundry, being there when he needed to talk. All those things my mom used to do for him.
And I did. I moved into her role and became the woman of the house. When Shane came home from work, it would be me he would talk to, telling me about his day. When he finished building a birdhouse, it was me he proudly brought outside and showed it off to. It was me he held and cried with when his sadness about mom overwhelmed him.
It was during these times when thoughts about sex would come. I was being everything else to him, why couldn’t I be that too? When he held me in his arms and cried, I wanted so badly for him to pick me up and carry me to his bed, and allow me to take away his pain. Allow me to perform that one last role that I hadn’t done yet.
But I knew it couldn’t happen. I was enough of a realist to understand the rules of society. We would never be allowed to be together. And worse, I was afraid how he would look at me if I ever asked. He would hate me for even suggesting such a perversion. We could never make love. Never.
So, my mind gave up on that obsession, but I still had needs, and I turned to Joey. His offer to ‘come and see him’ stuck with me all those years, and I did just that. He was more than willing to take my virginity, and teach me the pleasures of my body.
Shane wasn’t happy about Joey, but he recognized that I was mature for my age. He talked to me about birth control, and impressed upon me how important it was.
I never loved Joey, and didn’t expect him to be exclusive to me, which he wasn’t. But he served a purpose for me when I needed it. Which was sex.
And not just sex, but sex as a replacement for sex with Shane. I would cook Shane’s dinner, welcome him home, listen to his problems, feed him, and then tell him about my day. Everything a wife would do. But in a normal marriage, the couple would then go upstairs and make love, the physical pleasure they shared sealing the bond between them.
But instead of being carried upstairs by Shane, I went out with Joey and fucked him. When Joey came in the back of my throat, I imagined myself in Shane’s bed, taking his seed into my mouth. When Joey pressed his big cock into my pussy, I held my legs wide, opening myself to Shane’s invasion.
When Joey went off to college, I dated various guys, looking for his replacement. Someone who would give me sex when I wanted it, and not demand anything more. I thought it would be easy, but despite guys’ claims about wanting women just for sex, when it came down to it, their pride couldn’t accept the fact that their cock was all I wanted from them.
Looking back, I know it was fucked up. And I wondered to myself, how was this any better than actually sleeping with Shane? At least then I wouldn’t be out fucking strange guys.
So by the time I went off to college, I was ready to give up on my obsession. It could never happen, so why torment myself?