Usually I write my story and simply go to publish with it. Early on I did review the story, and found that I changed the whole thing into something else.
Apparently my grammar is poor. If you have left a comment anonymously. I don't give a fuck what you think. Have a nice day with that one. For those who do leave comments good or bad, with their name. Thank you for taking the time. It does mean a lot.
***
My parents. Billy and Rita had told me that they had adopted me as a baby. They told me that when I was quite young. Although that's all that they could tell me.
I had to go to a boys school. Which I hated. Having no females to be near to really dented most of the inmates confidence when we started to notice girls.
That remained with me until I managed to leave.
When I was eleven, my parents had a girl. Mary. She was 'their' child. A miracle. Since one of them was infertile. I heard the arguments.
Once Mary was born, I was pushed more to the side and I felt left out.
So much so I began to get into trouble. I was innocent. I never knew that it was stolen, illegal, not my property or my weed.
As soon as I could. I began my getaway plan. Contact the local authority. Say I was homeless and sofa surfing. Then voila I would get my own place.
That was the day after I turned eighteen. I had my own flat. Perhaps having my own place meant that I might lose my virginity. On the other hand I could wank at leisure.
Billy and Rita couldn't work out how or why I wanted my own place so young. But they did give me enough money to furnish the place so that was nice. I could never tell if it was through guilt, or just that they were glad to be rid of me.
I found a job, labouring. The work was awful but the pay was good. I never saw or heard of Billy and Rita for almost six months.
Then they called by. Out of the blue.
They had brought a letter from the adoption agency. Turns out my birth mother wanted to see me. Now I was an adult, they could put us in touch. If I wanted. Of course I wanted. At least that would put Billy and Rita's noses out.
Deep down though, they were my parents.
Sharon, my birth mother. Wrote a letter to me after I said yes. It went through the agency, so it was about a month late.
She regretted giving me up. Hoped that I had a better life than she could have ever given me, blah blah blah. At the end she left her mobile. In case I wanted to get in touch.
Curiosity got the better of me and I sent her a message. The reply was almost instant. 'I am so sorry for giving you up. I hope one day that you will forgive me. All I now wish for is to meet you. Love Sharon xx'
I waited a couple of hours to reply to her. I wanted to be sure that I wanted to, and that I said the right things. 'I am sure that you had good reasons. I have good parents. One day we might meet. Keep in touch. xx'
At work, Jeff, my boss asked about me being so distant of late.
"My real mother has been in touch. I told her that we might meet up one day, and I'm not too sure if I want to."
"I think you should meet her. I know a couple of people who were adopted too, and always wished that they knew about their birth mother and possibly their father too."
"Yeah. But my parents are Billy and Rita. This other woman is a stranger really. Is it not that she can clear her conscience?"
"It might be part of it. But I doubt it is all that. Go and meet her and if it turns out badly, tell me and I will help you. Time off and things."
"Ok. I'll send her a message. Thanks."
No time like the present. I thought. 'Sorry for taking my time. I would like to meet you. The best times for me are from when I finish on a Friday to Sunday afternoon. x"
Sharon replied straight away again. 'Thank you. Can we meet on Saturday about 1 o clock at the park in town? I will be by the bowling green, on the bench that faces the ice cream parlour. xx'
I replied ok to that, and told Jeff what I had done. "If there is any problem give me a ring as soon as you can. I'll be there for you."
You couldn't ask for more from your boss. Could you? My work picked up too.
Saturday morning. A bit hung over. Plenty of time to sort myself out and go and meet this woman.
As time wore on the more nervous I become.
12.30. The park was a fifteen minute walk. Plenty of time to clear my head on the way and I would get there early too.
There was about a half dozen old men playing their bowls. The bench was empty. Then I wondered. Should I sit there? Shall I wander about and keep checking by? I could always fuck off back to my flat.
Too late a woman walked straight up to the bench and sat there. She was not what I expected. She didn't look close to forty. Attractive. Certainly not slim. She looked well dressed, nice figure shoulder length mousey hair. Quite tall or did she have heels on?
Yet the way in which she sat there checking her phone and fidgeting. She might be on a blind date. Fuck it. I went over to her. "Sharon?"
She looked up to me, and tears welled up in her eyes. "I'm Sharon. You must be James?"
"Call me Jimmy please."
Out come a tissue. She wiped away the tears. Then she started. "I'm sorry for giving you away. But I was only fifteen when I found out I was pregnant. My parents forced me into it. Your father wanted nothing to do with me when I told him. Then just after my sixteenth birthday. I gave birth to you and they took you away from me. I have regretted that day ever since."
The tears were streaming down her face. "After that I left home and I never spoke to them again. Soon I got pregnant again. But there was complications early on and I lost that baby. From that there was complications, and I can no longer have any children. Being infertile left me single as soon as I told who was the current boyfriend at the time. But what kept me going was me hoping that at least you were having a good life."
"Wow. That is terrible. I'm sorry for what happened to you. I was told very recently there was always a good reason why a woman had to give up their child. I never really thought about it until then."
"You wouldn't really. Look at me all tearful and I swore to myself that I wouldn't. Can I buy you a coffee or something?"
At least she never asked if I wanted an ice cream.
"I live a few minutes away. Do you want to come there for coffee?"
"If you are sure about showing me where you live. I mean you don't know if I will become your stalker."
"Somehow I don't think that you will."
Sharon stood up with me. She must have stood at five ten. I'm six two. Her shoes were quite flat too.
As we walked towards my place, I kept looking at her. I could not see any resemblance to me. Must be my real dad that I look like. I suppose I will find out in time.
One of the first things I thought of. But kept to myself was. Did you buy me presents for my birthday and Christmas?
If I could get a question in that was.
Sharon wanted to know everything. What school, exam grades, why I lived alone. I blushed when she asked about girlfriends, and I told her that I never had one. She said that I was far too good looking not to have a one.
In mine. I put the kettle on. Sharon took off her coat and made herself comfortable. "So what can you say about my father?"
She told me his name. Adding that as far as she knows he emigrated to Canada around the time I was born. His parents are long dead. She had no clue about him.
"What about your parents?"
"They've passed too. My dad died suddenly, so I never spoke to him. I sat with my mother when she slipped away."
"No brothers, sisters?"
"Nope just me all alone in the world. Well I was all alone."
As I stirred our cups, Sharon walked into the kitchen. Tears forming in her eyes again. I took some kitchen roll and handed her the sheet.
"Thank you. I bet you never thought of such a weepy woman for your mother."
"To be honest I expected an older woman. Maybe very old like a witch, warts and all."
"Oh that's very nice calling me an old witch."
"No not you. Just what went around in my mind. But I never expected someone so younger than I did expect."
"Your too kind to me."
"I mean it. You had no choice in what happened. Especially at that time. Now things may have been different. I cannot dislike you."
That made the tears flow even more. Then Sharon began sobbing.
I put my arms out for her. She came closer and I held her as she cried away on my chest.
The smell of her hair, her perfume, and the absolute lack of holding women/girls. I began to get hard. Even though she was technically my mother.
In my mind she was Sharon. A woman that I had just met, and she was sobbing in my arms. Tightening her grip with her arms around my back squeezing me. Squashing her boobs into me more. I hoped that she would not be able to feel me.
Having not been in a situation even close to this. I tried saying. "There there." While holding her, Rubbing a hand over her back. I was sure that I should have felt a bra strap.
I don't think my attempts at comforting her helped. Yet the sobbing began to stop.
"Are you ok?" We were almost eye to eye. Tears still in hers.
Sharon looked at me, her bottom lip quivering. One of her hands came up and held my cheek. Her other hand at the back of my head. Her body still too close for comfort.
Then she pulled my head to her and she kissed me. Fully on the lips.
Her lips were ever so soft. My cock grew even more. She pulled slightly away and smiled, rubbing the side of my face.
There was a bit of her catching her breath with the crying. Then she kissed me again. I held her tighter, and kissed her back. Her hand holding the back of my head.
Now I was learning how to kiss. A bit of a crash course. But this was kissing. Any way that you looked at it.
Everything to do with getting a woman to bed I had learned watching porn. I thought it was bollocks then, and knew that would have been wrong.
I imagined that I should keep holding her and let one hand caress her back for a while. At least that would buy some time.
Sharon still holding me with one hand, used the other hand to get under my top and paw at my chest.
All I could think of was. How can she feel my tits, should I be grabbing hers?
Her hand let go of my head and moved one of mine to her arse.
Still kissing, I groped away at her ample behind. She started undoing my jeans.
Fuck that! I wanted a hold of some titty flesh. Groping at one of her breasts.
There was more than a handful. Sharon had a hold of my cock. My button and flies were undone my jeans still up.
This was turning into a lot of firsts.
She grabbed my wrists, and guided my hands to her waistband. I fumbled with the catch, and then the tiny zipper. Once they were undone, I slid a trembling hand towards her pussy. Fingers slipping under the elastic of her knickers, onto short pubic hair, and then cupped her mound. My middle finger spread her lips, and I felt what I had spent all of my teens wanting. A wet pussy.
I rubbed that finger around for a while. Not quite sure what I was exactly doing. But I was having no complaints so far.
Sharon managed to get my jeans to drop down, and get my boxers to follow. Leaving me stood so close to her raging hard on, all exposed down below.
Somehow, Sharon's pants fell off her. One of her hands helped. She held my throbbing cock with her other.
She lifted a bare leg and rested her foot on the bench. Then guided me by my cock. I had to lower myself slightly. But my bell end was touching her pussy lips.
Instinct made me push my way up her. Into that hot, wet hole of hers.
Sharon gasped as I penetrated her.