This is how it all began.
My mother had been divorced from my workaholic father for 3 years this past weekend. I know watching her that the anniversary of their divorce weighed heavy on her spirit, as she was rather quiet and pretty much stayed to herself over the last few days. Knowing that she liked her privacy, I occupied myself with my friends and watching some US Open tennis matches in my room.
Whenever we did pass each other in the house, I smiled at her knowingly and gave her a warm hug every now and then. I kinda amused myself with the realization that I had now grown to be an inch or two taller than my mom, who was 5'6", and weighed about 140. I was now 18 and although a bit small for my age, I had good muscle tone that had developed as I was on the High School swim team and during the summers I have played little league baseball since I was 7.
I have always felt that I was partially responsible for my parents divorce because I would complain that my father never supported me, nor came to see me compete in sports. My mother assured me that my complaints were not the reason for her finally deciding to send my father packing, but I knew that they had argued a few times about how I was growing up without a father and not only was I being affected, but my mother was tired of doing everything around the house on her own.
My father would always scoff at her and remind her that he was busy earning money for the family while he was out of the house, always putting an emphasis on just how much money he earned as Manager of a Real Estate development corporation. He did site analysis so he would travel extensively throughout the New England area. At times, he would be away for 6-8 weeks, during which he may make 2 or 3 phone calls home.
His distance lead my mother to wonder if her spouse of 19 years was cheating on her. He denied any extra marital activities, however, he did admit that he thought about cheating on my mother every once in awhile because their sex life was now pretty much nonexistent.
Of course I couldn't blame her for not wanting to have sex with him. Over the years not only had he become emotional vacant, he had let his physical appearance slide and now walked around sporting a fairly large beer stomach. So after he missed last Christmas and not calling for five weeks, mom sat down with me one evening and began to cry. She looked at me through her tears, her black mascara starting to stream down her cheeks. I held her close and kept on telling her that it was going to be okay, that we don't need him in our lives.
She was so confused as to what to do, she was actually shaking while I held onto her. I remember her smelling so wonderful because she had just gotten out of the bath, her body still maintaining the warmth of the water. My nose nestled into her soft neck, breathing her scent deeply. We were rocking back and forth, holding each other until she broke our hug and looked at me, her mascara smeared down her cheeks. I joked to her that she looked like one of the guys from KISS. She broke out laughing and we fall to the floor tickling each other, giving each other reassuring hugs and touches. Since my mom had taken her bath, she only had on her terry cloth robe which fell open slightly as we rolled around on the floor.
Just as she was about to sit up on me, pinning me down, her robe flashed open for a brief moment, exposing her breast to me to quickly to focus my eyes, but long enough for me to go to bed that night with a hard on knowing that I had seen my first breasts. Of course at that point I really didn't associate my hard on and my mothers tits to anything sexual between us, it was simply a young teenager seeing some flesh. She had closed her robe quickly and then asked me if I was sure I would be okay with her finally telling pops that she wanted out. I looked into her sad eyes and knew that we could only be better without him. I told her that I loved her and we would be just fine on our own. She let me up off of the floor and kissed me goodnight.
As she walked up the stairs heading to her bedroom, my eyes followed the way her butt moved underneath the robe knowing that she was naked and when she had pinned me down on the floor, her bare thighs were straddling me. Not too much of her weight was on me as she was pretty much kneeling above me, so I'm sure that her pussy had not come into contact with my crotch. As I laid in bed later on with my hard on, I was glad of that because I would have been so embarrassed if she had felt that I was excited in seeing that brief flash of her milky breasts. The next week my father finally came home and my mother had his bags packed, waiting for him. They argued for an hour or so, with my father finally leaving, almost predictably without saying anything to me.
The following three years went by well, although at times I knew my mother was lonely. I encouraged her to start dating again but after a few bad dates, she stopped searching for companionship. During this time, I dated a few girls, none too serious, but Shandie, my last girlfriend, was the most serious as we had dated for just over 5 months. We made out all the time and I had felt her tits under her bra a couple of times. One night, while her parents were out, we were watching some movie we rented but didn't watch any further than the open credits.
We were going at it pretty hot and heavy, to the point of our pants coming off. My fingers had slid into her panties, feeling her wetness. She moaned while I began to finger fuck her, her hands rubbing my very hard cock through my boxers. She began to fumble with the buttons on the fly when we heard the garage door open, signaling her parents arrival. We got dressed in a blur and took a respectable distant from each other when her father came into the living room. My heart was racing and my dick was breaking. Although I was afraid that he may have a sense of what was going on in his house with his 18 year old daughter, my cock was still throbbing. After some nervous conversation, I got up to head home.
