Good things come to those who wait. That's what my mother always used to say to me and often I would wonder when these good things were finally going to happen to me. My mum was poor and I grew up without a lot of things, one of those being a good father. Mum left him when I was only four so I never really knew him, but from the things I was told about him when I was older, I got the impression I was better off not knowing him. Mum did a pretty good job bringing me up on her own. Even though we were poor, I had a happy childhood.
When I hit my teenage years I became a bit unruly, going out a lot to parties and dating young. That's when I really could have done with a father figure to have some rules set in place, some guidelines. My mum did her best, but she had to work nights just to keep food on our plates and pay the rent. The one thing my mother would always tell me, well nag me would be closer to the truth, was to tell her when I wanted to start having sex so that she could make sure I was on the pill. The last thing my mum wanted was to see me get pregnant young. Of course I told her I wasn't interested in sex yet, I was only fifteen and not ready yet. I guess I was lucky to have such an understanding mother. She never once said to me don't have sex or don't drink alcohol. It was always, don't have sex unless you are on the pill and you use a condom. Don't drink too much because you don't want a hangover for school and don't get in a car if the driver has been drinking. Mum was a realist, she knew teenagers had sex and drank and she knew there was no way of stopping her kid from doing it, all she wanted to do was to make sure I was safe.
Why is it every generation doesn't listen to their parents even when they make sense? I'd like to be able to say I didn't know what I was doing or it was date-rape or I didn't know any better or some other excuse but the truth is I went out to a party with a group of friends and I got drunk. I somehow forgot all the good advice my mother had given me and I got carried away and I ended up fucking this cute guy that I fancied and was hoping he was going to ask me out. He turned out to be a total jerk and was just looking for an easy lay. I was so stupid. This little voice (my mother's voice) in the back of my head was telling me to stop or at least make him wear a rubber, but I ignored it.
After I had missed two periods, I told my mother about that night. She was furious, but after she yelled at me a few very profane swear words that I hadn't previously heard coming from the mouth of my sweet mother, she calmed down and sat down to talk to me about my options. Mum suggested three options to me. I could get an abortion of course and then carry on my life as usual and no one would have to know. I could adopt the baby out as mum told me there are always parents that want children but can't have their own. Or my third option was mum said I could keep the baby and stay living with her and she would help me bring my baby up.
It was a big decision for me, I had only recently turned sixteen and I didn't know if I could handle being a mother but also I didn't think I could go through nine months of being pregnant and then give it up to someone else. I considered abortion, but as I had already missed two periods, almost three, I didn't consider it long. I remembered that video they showed the class at school last year in Sex Ed about how much a baby grew in three months and I just couldn't go through with terminating it. So I went with option three and between me and mum we brought up my son Tom.
It wasn't easy, actually it was really hard and I don't think I could have done it without my mums help. But Tom was a good baby and grew into a wonderful young boy. There were tough times through the years but also a lot of very good, happy moments that made me think maybe mum was right about there being some good things coming to those who wait. One thing for sure, having a baby in the house brought out the best in my mum. She doted over her grandson and she got me back on track. I didn't even take much time off school, only three months. Mum insisted that I finish my education and she basically took over raising my son during school hours. It was really good for me. I cleaned up my act, no more parties and drinking. There's nothing like having a baby to make you see sense.
I fully breast feed Tom until he was three months old and I found that to be the most enjoyable thing about being a mother. I was reluctant to give it up and even after I returned back to school to finish my studies, I still gave him a feed of my milk before and after school and last thing at night. My mum feed him formula from a bottle during the day. As well as it being a pleasurable experience to breast feed my son, it also gave me another reason to give up drinking. I continued to breast feed him three times a day until he turned one, then I slowly weaned him off. I was a little sad to finally give up feeding him, but it was time and I thought maybe one day I might meet someone and get married and have another child and I would get the chance to enjoy the pleasure of breast feeding once more.
The years went by. Tom grew to be a handsome young man. I dated on and off but never met anyone that I loved enough or that was willing to take on another mans child. So I just stayed with my mum until old age crept up on her and she had to move into a retirement home. By that time Tom was now a teenager and we had a good close relationship. We were still poor but he grew up in a loving environment and because my mother had made sure I had stayed at school and graduated, I had a good job and I had been putting a little bit of money away for years to pay for Tom's education.
With the money I had saved and what Tom had earned from his part time job, there was enough to send him to a good college. I would often tease him about when his he going to bring a nice young lady home to meet his dear old mum and he would scoff it off telling me that I was not so old and that with school and his part time job there was no time for girls. It was a constant joke between us, but privately I was starting to wonder if he even liked girls. Not that I would love him any less if he was gay, but I did imagine that one day I would have the special bond with my grandchild that my mother had shared with Tom.
I did know he thought about sex a lot just like any teenage boy. I did, after all, do the laundry. I also would notice how he took long showers, spending a long time in the bathroom. Often he would shower 2 or 3 times a day. I found myself feeling uncomfortable sometimes when he would walk around the house with just a towel on around his waist. He had let his hair grow and it was shoulder length now and often he would just plonk himself down next to me on the couch to watch TV after coming direct from the shower. His gorgeous black hair still wet and dripping down on his bare chest, with just a towel coming between my wandering eyes and his manhood.
At times I would find it too much and have to get up with the excuse to get myself a drink or have to go pee. I just had to remove myself from the room for a moment to calm down, scolding myself in my mind. I would tell myself it's just because I hadn't been on a date recently or that it's was not my son's fault that he looked like my ideal fantasy man. But always on times like those, in the privacy of my own bed, late at night when my son was asleep, I would find myself masturbating and thinking of my fantasy man. I would start off thinking of some sexy stranger, imagining him making wild passionate love to me and then at the moment of orgasm the sexy stranger in my mind became Tom. I would lie there coming down from my climax and I would feel guilty for my own thoughts. There was a battle going on in my mind, morality against lust and I'm not sure who was winning.
I did not know how much longer I was going to be able to carry on ignoring my desires, especially as my son showed no signs of being interested in girls. I was starting to think perhaps it would be doing him a favor in the long run if I was to intervene and show him the joy of sex now that he was 18. But just when I was seriously considering making a move on him, I started to notice a change in his behavior. He wasn't spending so much time in the shower and yet he seemed in a good mood almost all of the time. I got to thinking maybe he has finally lost in virginity, perhaps it was at that party he went to a little while back. I considered asking him about it over breakfast one morning, but he seemed quieter than usual and instead I was concerned if he was alright.
"Are you OK Tom?" I asked.
"Yes mum. I'm fine," he replied, "Um,would it be OK if I asked a friend for dinner tonight mum?"
"Oh, sure son. Your friends are always welcome Tom, you know that," I answered, curious to whom it might be, but I did not ask.
He went off to college and I went to work but all day in the back of my mind I wondered who our guest might be. After work I went about making a nice dinner for three and while preparing it, Tom arrived home. He walked into the kitchen and he was holding hands with a girl. I have to say I was more than a little surprised and I hoped my facial expressions didn't show just how shocked I was to see a young woman hand in hand with my son.
"Hi mum. This is Jennifer," said Tom, introducing us.
"Hello. Please call me Jen," Jennifer said, holding out her hand.
