This is a story of family sex. If there is something not to your taste in it, leave it and move on. Everybody's 18n blah, blah, blah.
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I'm Jim, married to Molly. Two kids, twins, Kate and Kevin. Molly got the idea of telling my story and I eventually gave in. The story of how, in 1973, I lost my virginity to my mother.
My family lived in the residential area of a small city in the northeast. Mom, Myrna, dad, Tom, me and my older sister Sarah. She's four years older than me. Mom and dad are tall and thin, so the rest of us are too. I'll fill in more later.
I was never good at or interested in sports, so growing up, I was an outsider. My sister, being four years older traveled in a different social universe. We got along just fine, but we weren't close. I hadn't been around girls since I was fourteen and I saw myself as odd, out of step.
The schools in our city were pretty bad so my Grandparents paid my tuition to a private boarding school. The school was in a tiny crossroads of a town up in the middle of New Hampshire. In the '70s there were no co-ed boarding schools and not many co-ed colleges.
I can say during my senior year, after achieving the age of eighteen, my roommate and I would masturbate each other and occasionally exchange oral sex.
This, while better than self-love was not what I wanted. I wanted a girlfriend. I wanted real sex. But every time I got near a girl, I was clueless and assumed they wouldn't like me anyway. In June of 1973, I graduated from boarding school. `
James, the ticking bomb.
I got a summer job, 8-5, construction mechanic. Sarah was off in the middle of the country. She graduated from college and got an internship. Every morning, I woke up hard and masturbated looking at the same, worn-out book of unattractive people fucking. This was the 70's. No internet, cell phones, VCR tapes were still exotic. If you wanted porn, you had to go to small grocery stores on the bad side of town. In the back was a magazine rack. On the bottom shelf, titty mags. Names like "Juggs" and "Big mamas". They just showed tits. Even Playboy was just starting to show pubic hair. Nobody shaved. In the back of the magazine, were ads. Ads for real porn. You had to send a letter, with a check or money order if you were an 18-year-old with no bank account, and in a month, you would get a plain brown package. Real porn. Video? Didn't exist. 8MM movies. A half-inch wide film, you had to have a projector, and no sound. Every night and every morning I looked at those pictures and stroked my cock imagining what a woman felt like.
James, the pathetic masturbator.
We lived on a typical, tree-lined street. A small split-level home, three bedrooms on the second floor around a ten-foot-diameter hall, one bathroom. My parents are great people. Very loving and tactile. They hugged and kissed often and knowing they were so in love made me feel secure. They enjoyed an active sex life, which their son, their horny sex-needy son, could hear from his room at least three or four nights a week. Not yelling foul words and all that. This is reality. I heard groans and moans, coarse whispers, the bed slamming the wall. Yeah, I jacked to that image too.
James the pervert.
My parents were typical for that era, conservative, strait-laced. I had seen both of my parents in their underwear, dad in army-style formless white boxer shorts, and mom in what we call now 'granny panties' and white bras.
This summer, however, dad would finish his shower, dry off, and take the three steps from the bathroom to their room naked. I couldn't recall if he did that when Sarah lived here, but he did it now. I guess it's just easier and since I was the only kid home, not an issue.
Once, I caught my mother doing the same thing. I was lying on my bed which had a view out the door and saw her lithe body leave the bathroom nude. She took the three steps at a normal pace, never glancing my way. It was then I noticed that my mom had a long, lean body, nice ass, blonde, untamed pubic hair, and very firm handful breasts with hard jutting nipples. When you're a horny teen you can be very observant. Since my mother was much better looking than the women in the porn mag and since she was the first woman, I'd ever seen naked, that brief glimpse became the fodder for my masturbation sessions. I probably objectified her by imagining her not to be my mother as I lay on top of her in my fantasy plunging my erection into her vagina. I didn't give the whole thing much thought.
I was home for a week when dad got a fat promotion. We were excited. Now we could afford a vacation and a new car. The hitch was, that dad had to go out to Kansas somewhere and straighten out an underperforming factory. He said he'd be back by the time I left for college.
I fell into my summer work routine. Mom would get up with me each morning and make me breakfast. On the first day after dad left, I was shoveling in my scrambled eggs and mom was sipping at a cup of tea.
"James, do you have a girlfriend?"
My mother, for some reason, called me by my full name. Never 'Jim' or 'Jimmy'. 'James'.
Myrna, the formal.
You need to know that my mother would have been a killer lawyer. She had a habit of asking questions to which she already had the answer and by that method trapping me into an honest response.
"No, mom, I don't."
This was not a topic I wanted to discuss. It was, in fact, a source of embarrassment. I had run into old friends from town and many of my contemporaries had lost their virginity, had girlfriends and social groups. I was incredibly awkward around women. They were a mystery and I just knew if I tried to converse, I would succeed only in saying something stupid. So, I said little and was marked as 'dull'.
I knew my mother would not let this go, "Why not? You're a very attractive young man, intelligent, funny."
I got up. I had to escape. "Mother, I gotta go to work."
As I passed her, her hand shot out and grasped my wrist, "You're twenty-two minutes early. Answer my question, please."
Myrna the inquisitor.
Time for the suspect to confess.
"I feel like a clod around girls. I don't know what to say. Anything that comes out of my mouth sounds stupid. I'm scared to touch them, in any way. They're just a big mystery."
Mother sipped her tea, "So, you've never had sex?"
I should have snapped right back with 'yes', but I paused, remembering those dark nights with my roommate.
Mother smiled, "Ah, so you experimented in school."
I was so red I thought my face would catch fire, "I, uh, we, uh..."
"Shhh", She said. "That's not unusual under the circumstances. Masturbation will only take you so far."
I flushed again, "I'm sorry, mo..."
She cut me off, "Stop. Do not apologize for masturbating. You're eighteen years old. If you weren't masturbating, I'd take you to a shrink."
That did nothing to lessen my humiliation. She wasn't done.
"So, do you like men? I mean boys, I guess."
The cross-examination was getting worse. Every part of me required inquisition. I didn't have an answer for that. Zack and I had masturbated each other and graduated to oral sex but there was no emotional connection, just a mutual need. But my mother was relentless, and it was making me mad.
"Well, mother, we did it almost every night, so I guess I do."
My mother's lips disappeared. Good, a little shock might shut her up. Zack and I didn't do it every night or every week. But I'll confess that when we did the idea of exciting someone else was fun and having my cock serviced, even by a guy, was awesome.
"Oh. Well, that's interesting."
As she sipped her tea, I thought I saw her hand shaking. Her face a mask of banality.
Myrna the Sphinx.
She was done for the time being, "Okay, head off, I'll see you when you get home. Looks like it will be just you and me for the summer."
It was Friday. I had spent the day taking the engine and transmission out of a huge front-end-loader. I was grease and filth from head to toe. Mother had told me when I started this job, to come home through the garage, drop my clothes, come up, and shower. I left my greasy pants and shirt in the garage and went upstairs in my white cotton briefs, with black smudges where I took my cock out to pee during the day. As I got to the first floor, I heard her in the kitchen talking to another woman. I bolted up the three steps to the second floor and ran to my room.
Wrapped in my robe, I went to the shower and left the bathroom, clean, but still robed.
Walking into the kitchen in shorts and a tee-shirt I saw that my mother was talking to Mrs. Roberts. She was divorced, which in 1973 was considered a mark of shame. However, the story that went around was that she caught her husband having sex with another man and since he left town pretty fast, it gave the story legs, so she got a pass. In the '70s there was no 'gay'. You were 'queer' and an outcast.
Mrs. Roberts was about ten years older than me and very attractive. Unlike mom, she was curvy and had big breasts with this thick mane of auburn hair and blue eyes that bored right through you. She was very outgoing, funny, and sometimes inappropriate. Why Mr. Roberts wanted to have sex with guys instead of her baffled me.
"Hey, Jimmy. All graduated and ready to start college?"
She was still a woman, however, "Hi Mrs. Roberts. Yeah, I guess."
"Call me Alice. I'm divorced now. So, what are you doing all summer?"
I looked at my mother. In the 70's you did not call adults by their first name. She nodded.
"Stuff. Working. Mowing the lawn."
Alice laughed lightly and took a sip of her coffee, "You were right Myrna." Mother smiled.
I didn't like the sound of that one bit. I glared at mom.
"Yes, James, I was telling Alice about your awkwardness."
Myrna the gossip.
I stood in the kitchen slack-jawed, "You what? How could you?"
I turned to dramatically storm out of the kitchen.