This is the first part of my new series I'm working on. There is no sex of any kind.
Growing up I idolized my single working mother. She was tough and took no shit from anyone. She got respect everywhere she went, mostly because of her personality. She wasn't into girly things, like manicures or makeup. No, my mom was a natural beauty in every way.
She also had an hourglass figure. Like literally. Narrow waist, wide hips, thick bubble butt and medium sized breasts. Her looks stop men in their tracks when she walks by.
Mom drove a spacious 4 door truck. In her spare time, mom also loved reading. No not those sappy romance novels, I mean like horror, drama, science fiction. Those genres of books were her favorite.
Mom was a Mechanic. She didn't care if her face got covered in sweat or her clothes stained in oil. It prided her. It made her feel good working on the engine of any vehicle. She'd come home telling me at dinner about the cars she worked on.
She was also very family orientated. Family was everything to her. Every birthday, 4th of July, Easter, Thanksgiving and Christmas was a family affair. Sometimes when we had a BBQ, she'd invite the whole neighborhood.
That was, until she went on that trip with my bully. Then her whole personality changed. For the worse.
My mom's name was Monica Desper. She is 41, has jet black hair tied in a bun and emerald green eyes.
Anyway it all started during my senior year of high school. Yes that means I'm 18 as I say this to you.
"Hey baby boy get your butt up for school," called my mom Monica outside my door.
I groaned as I opened my eyes to her knocking. That was her nickname for me. Even though my name was Doug Desper, she calls me "baby boy". I got all my looks from her and my late dad. He died shortly after I was born. So I have his curly hair which is a dark brown, mom's green eyes and also his physique.
I'm not muscular like most guys you think are at my age. I mean, I hardly play sports. Like at all. Period. I love reading and spend most days plugging away reading my favorite authors. I'm also the top of my class three years in a row and was student council president for two terms. I never had a girlfriend, though I had girls say I am cute. Anyways.
"I am," I called out as I yawned.
"Breakfast in ten," my mom called as she walked down to the kitchen.
I walk sluggishly to the bathroom and washed my face in the coolish water from the sink. Already I could hear the frying pan sizzle and smell eggs cooking. I sighed.
"Eggs again," I mumbled, "why is it always eggs?"
I took a warm shower and then got dressed.
I walked into the kitchen as my mom turns to greet me with a smile.
"Morning baby boy," my mom said cheerfully.
"Yeah yeah morning," I yawned as I sat at the table.
She folded her arms across her chest.
"Excuse me?" she said staring daggers at me.
I looked back confused for a second.
"I hope that ain't attitude that I am hearing right now," she said tapping her right pointer finger into her slender tanned arm.
"No ma'am," I said instantly realizing my mistake.
"Then say it clearer this time," she said a smile growing on her face.
"Morning momma," I said loudly.
She bursts out laughing. I start laughing in turn. She wipes a tear from her eye.
"Baby boy you know I was fucking with you right?" she said after catching her breath.
That's the other thing. Mom swears alot. She also tells it like it is and god help you if you get on her bad side. She is also very protective of me. I had trouble with being bullied since grade school. So whenever I came home with a fresh bruise or anything, she'd know. Mom would then march over to that kid's house and confront his parents and him.
The next day, he'd come apologizing to me in front of everyone during recess.
"Yes," I said nodding my head.
She sits down across from me as we begin eating. Mom talking about the new car she is working on, about the promotion she'll get today and about my school life.
You wouldn't guess it, but mom came from the old country when she was a little girl. I think around the Dominican Republic or something. I grew up listening her talk about it. The smell of the ocean near the beach she played at. The beauty of the scenery and the wildlife. The music in the evenings.
I sit there imagining her childhood in my mind. I wanted to go there. To experience what she experienced growing up. She'd always sigh afterwards and fall silent.
