Dad's Bowling Night with Mom
In 1952, Jack has a bad breakup so his mom gives him lessons.
March, 1952
"I'm off!" announced Dad as he headed toward the door. He didn't bother to say where, as it was Tuesday, and Tuesday was his bowling night.

"Good luck, Honey!" Mom called after him.

Mom and I were at the dinner table, eating our dinner. Mom was a slower eater, and I was keeping her company by matching her pace. On Bowling Nights, Dad always wolfed down his food so he could get to the bowling alley on time.

Mom asked, "Jack, what are you and Doris doing tonight?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Mom asked as she arched an eyebrow.

Mom was always gently probing about my relationship with Doris. Doris had been my first serious girlfriend. We had started dating at the beginning of this year, my senior year. With my prior girlfriend Anna, we had been friends that held hands and kissed goodbye. Doris was the first girl I had taken parking. I felt she considered Doris a threat to her plan for me to go to Northwestern and to eventually become a doctor. Many a guy from my small-town high school who might have left town after graduating had instead married his sweetheart and gotten a job at the plant where my dad worked. In most of those cases, she had their first child well before they were married nine months.

I said as casually as I could, "She broke up with me yesterday."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know." Mom gave me a slightly embarrassed look. "Why did she break up with you?"

"I don't want to discuss it."

"Well, you could go over to a friend's house instead."

"I don't feel like going over to a friend's house."

I stood up and took my dishes over to the sink. I heard Mom doing the same behind me. I took my plate and scraped the food remains into the trash. I set my plate down and stepped aside to let Mom do the same.

Mom said, "Well, if you're staying home tonight, would you please wash the dishes?"

"No."

"Come on. You know how much I hate washing the dishes. It makes my fingers look like prunes."

I knew I'd wind up washing the dishes. Mom truly hated washing the dishes, and I didn't mind doing it. But I was in a bad mood and wouldn't readily agree to wash them.

"When we negotiated my allowance, we agreed that I'd wash the dishes on every night except Tuesday." Tuesday and Friday were the two nights I had been allowed to go out on dates with Doris, and I had to pick her up early on Tuesday to get her home on time for a school night.

"But you aren't going out tonight. And I don't want to get my sweater wet."

Mom was wearing a light pink sweater and a long black skirt. Pretty typical for what she wore around the house. She asked in a slightly exasperated tone, "Are you saying you want a bigger allowance?" She was used to me doing whatever she asked.

I folded my arms and leaned against the kitchen counter. Mom could order me to wash the dishes, and I'd do it. But she was wanting me to agree to washing the dishes, and I was in the mood to make her work for it.

"No. I don't need a bigger allowance if I'm not dating Doris anymore."

"Take over washing dishes on Tuesdays, I'll increase your allowance, and you'll have more money when you start dating some other girl."

"I doubt I'll be dating any other girls here. At least not for the rest of the school year."

A concerned look came to Mom's face. "Why do you say that?"

"I don't want to discuss it." I moved away from the counter. "Have fun washing the dishes."

"Don't go!" said Mom. "How about this? You wash, and I'll dry. And I'll do something nice for you later."

This was a much better offer than what I was expecting. "Nice? Like what?"

"I don't know. I'll think of something. But let's do the dishes now. My radio show will come on soon."

"Oh, okay," I said, putting as much resignation and disgust as I could into my words. Actually, I was fine with doing the dishes, but I wasn't letting Mom know that.

I turned on the water to let it get warm. Mom went to the table to clear the rest of the dishes. I organized the dishes in the order I would wash them - glasses first, then silverware, then plates, and then finally the pots and pans Mom had cooked dinner in.

Once the water was warm, I started filling the left side of the sink. I also squirted some dish soap into the water. As it was filling Mom asked, "Why did Doris break up with you?"

"I don't want to discuss it."

"I'll make a deal with you. I'll tell you a secret, and then you tell me why she broke up with you."

I looked at Mom with some disbelief. She had never proposed anything like this before. I guessed she was really curious about Doris and me and had realized she wasn't going to get anything out of me about her.

"Okay."

"I've asked your father to buy us a TV. As I'm frequently home alone, I'd really like one. We had quite the argument about it last Saturday."

I wasn't surprised that Mom had asked Dad to buy a TV. She had watched one a few times at other people's homes in our small town in Ohio and talked a lot about how much she had enjoyed it. The news was that Mom and Dad had had 'quite the argument'. I had never seen my parents argue. They always went into their bedroom and closed the door if they 'needed to discuss something'. The way Mom had said that, she made it sound like a big argument.

"Why not a washing machine?"

"Laundry isn't that bad. And ironing would be much better if I had a TV to watch." Mom waited to see if I had any more questions, and then said, "So tell me about you and Doris."

I didn't answer right away. When the left side of the sink was full, I turned the faucet to the right side. The left side was for washing and the right side was for rinsing. I took a glass and started washing it. "I don't really know why Doris broke up with me. She didn't give me a reason. Tuesday morning, she was waiting for me to arrive at school. I walked her to her class, and when we got there, she told me she was breaking up with me and didn't want to see me again. And then she went into her class. I tried to talk to her at lunch, but she told me she didn't want to see me again and shooed me away."

I put the washed glass into the rinse water and started washing another. Mom dried the glass I had washed.

"Did you have any idea that the breakup was coming?"

I washed the rest of the glasses and then said, "Yes. Do you remember a month ago when you went to the Johnstons on a Friday night?" The Johnstons were an elderly couple at our church that lived outside of town. Mrs. Johnston had been in bed with a fever for a couple of days, so Mom had taken her car to go out to visit her for the evening.

"I do."

"Well, because you had taken your car, I couldn't drive Doris to the basketball game. It was an away game, so we took the school bus instead. She was really upset about having to take the bus. I got the feeling she felt I had humiliated her by forcing her to take the bus instead of driving her to the game. Things have gotten steadily worse between Doris and me since then. She never said what was wrong, but she wasn't enjoying being my girlfriend like she used to. So it wasn't a big surprise that she dumped me."

I had an ulterior motive for telling Mom all this. I wanted a car of my own. But to have a car of my own, I'd have to have a job, and Mom didn't want me to have a job. She felt that there wasn't enough time for me to have a job if I was studying hard enough to get into Northwestern and to make it into med school. So she had promised to always lend me her car on Tuesday and Friday nights. She had broken her promise, and that led to my breakup with Doris.

I didn't really care about going to Northwestern or going to med school. I was fine with going to Ohio State and getting a decent job once I graduated. But my cousin George had gone to Ohio State, and I had to do better than what Aunt Agnes' kids did. Aunt Agnes was Mom's older sister, and they had a deep mutual animosity for some unknown reason. Maybe it had to do with Aunt Agnes dating Dad before he dated Mom. On the surface, they got along, but down deep they seemed to hate each other. At family gatherings, Aunt Agnes always brought up that George had gone to Ohio State and her daughter Joan was going to a small, private girls' college. So Mom wanted me to go to a better college than Ohio State. Aunt Agnes also always brought up that George was a chemist in a munitions factory, so Mom wanted me to have a better job than that.

Mom said, "Taking the bus on one basketball game shouldn't have been a big deal."

"You're right, Mom," I said in a slightly patronizing tone.

"She knew you didn't have a car when she started dating you and were borrowing mine."

"She told me several times I should get my own car. And I always told her I didn't have the money to buy one."

"Even if you had a car of your own, it could have been in the shop that Friday night."

"Very true, Mom."

We washed dishes quietly for a while, then Mom said, "You're not blaming me for Doris breaking up with you."

"I didn't say that, Mom. She's talked a lot about me to people at school, and in what has gotten back to me, she hasn't mentioned the car. I'm just saying things went south with her after I didn't drive her to that basketball game."

"What has she said about you?"

"I don't want to discuss it, Mom."

We were quiet for a while after that. While I was scrubbing on a pot, Mom asked, "Do you want to listen to my radio show with me?"

Mom always listened to a radio crime drama on Tuesday nights. She spent a lot of Wednesday afternoon on the phone talking with her friends about it. "Might as well. It's not like I have anything else to do."

* * * *

The next afternoon, I was studying at the dining table when the phone rang. We had a formal dining room with a large table that was used when guests were over. The rest of the time, it was only used by me for studying. When it was just Mom, Dad, and me, we ate on a small table off of the kitchen. Our only phone was in the kitchen, and it wasn't visible from the dining room, but I could hear perfectly well what Mom said on the phone. I had gotten into the habit of eavesdropping on Mom. Most of the time it was harmless, like talking about her radio show. Other times, I caught hints of more interesting news. I always acted like I never heard Mom's phone calls. I never asked who was on the phone. It was like a mystery novel, where I had to piece together clues to figure out who called and what was discussed. It made church far more interesting, as people interacting there provided most of the clues to unravel Mom's more mysterious phone calls.

I quickly figured out this caller was Mrs. Grant. Her husband had moved away, they had met and married, and then they had moved back after Mr. Grant's father had died to help take care of Mr. Grant's mother. She was about ten years older than Mom and was not a regular caller.

I perked up when Mom said, "Go ahead and tell me if you think it's important for me to know." I set down my pencil and listened more intently.

"It's not surprising you saw him there. He bowls every Tuesday." So this was about Dad. Something Mrs. Grant thought was important for Mom to know.

Mrs. Grant went on for quite a bit before I heard Mom sigh loudly. "I wish I could say that I don't believe you, Mary, but other people have told me similar stories." A few moments later, Mom continued, "Frank is a good husband. He just drinks too much when he bowls, and then he does some stupid things. He wouldn't do anything like that normally. I feel sorry for the poor girl he bothered."

What had Dad done? I wondered. Apparently, it was something he had done many times while bowling, but not anywhere else. Certainly not at church. Watching him at church wouldn't give me any clues as to what he had done.

"Patty Harney? Oh, my." Patty Harney was a senior like me. She worked as a waitress at the bowling alley a few nights a week.

"I'll talk to Frank about it. I'm sorry you had to see that. Thanks for letting me know. And, please, don't tell anyone else."

I picked up my pencil and went back to working on answering the questions on the History handout. Mom came out of the kitchen. I could feel her look at me, but I acted totally absorbed in my studies. She then asked, "Are you ready for me to review your History handout?"

"No, Mom. I have a few more questions to go."

* * * *

The rest of Wednesday was normal. I studied until almost dinner time and then Mom reviewed the answers on my handouts after I had done them to make sure they were correct and complete. Mom had been a teacher's assistant after she graduated from high school until she married Dad. I felt like she knew more about all of my classes than my teachers did. She always reviewed everything I did before I turned them in, and if it was acceptable to Mom, it was a certain A. For dinner, we went to the potluck supper at church. I kept an eye on Dad for clues as to what he had done yesterday while bowling, but he acted normal and everyone who talked to him acted normal.

Thursday was normal. After dinner, Dad and I worked on converting my brother Bob's old bedroom into a crafting room for Mom. Bob was 21, worked at the plant but in a different part from my dad, and was renting a room from the Coopers. Mom wanted better lighting in the room, so we put an overhead light in the room. Dad and I always worked on home projects on Thursday night unless I had a major school project to work on. Friday night, Dad didn't come home until late as usual as he always went to a bar after work on Fridays and drank beers with his coworkers. I read "The Count of Monte Cristo". Mom wanted me to read "classics" in my spare time in preparation for Northwestern, and "The Count of Monte Cristo" had been one of the few books on her list of classics that appealed to me. Saturday night, as usual, Mom and Dad went out to a party while I spent the night at Mom's parents' house. Sunday morning was church. Sunday night, my brother Bob and his girlfriend Betty came over for dinner. He was seriously dating Betty, and my parents expected them to get engaged soon. Monday night, Dad played poker after dinner and I studied.

Then we were back to Tuesday. After dinner, Mom asked, "Would you wash the dishes for me, please?"

"No. Why should I? You did nothing nice for me this week."

I hadn't really expected her to do something nice for me. For most kids, their mom could bake them a cake or some cookies, but that wouldn't have worked for me as I didn't have a sweet tooth. When I had my eighteenth birthday in mid-January, everyone else had a slice of my birthday cake while I ate ice cream. Mom already did so much for me that it would be hard to do something more that didn't involve spending money, and spending money would require Dad's approval.

"I bought you your favorite flavor of ice cream."

"You always buy me ice cream."

"I lent you my car Saturday."

"To run errands for you." Though I had enjoyed driving it around town.

"Do the dishes, and I'll do something doubly-nice for you."

"Okay."

I knew I'd wind up washing the dishes and didn't feel like fighting it anymore.

As I started on the glasses, Mom asked, "What has Doris been saying about you?"

"I don't want to discuss it."

"I'll hear about it eventually. I'd like to be prepared for when I do so."

"Then you'll hear about it then."

I washed dishes for another minute and then Mom said, "It sounded like she was saying some bad things about you, and those things have really hurt your feelings. As your mother, I want to know what is hurting my son so much."

I felt like Mom wouldn't give this up. I decided to try to block her a different way. "Tell me first what Mrs. Grant had to say about Dad on Wednesday."

"You were eavesdropping?"

"I try not to," I lied, "but the way you talked to her grabbed my ear."

I expected Mom to tell me it was none of my business and then we'd be at an impasse that I was perfectly fine with.

To my surprise, Mom said, "Okay. I'll tell you what she told me, and then you'll tell me everything Doris has been saying about you." Before I could agree or disagree, Mom said, "Mrs. Grant had gone to the bowling alley to see what it was like. Mr. Grant had recently joined a bowling league, she was in the area shopping, and she decided to drop in and see what it was like. While she was there, she saw your father squeeze the bottom of Patty Harney. She had brought him and the other members of his team a round of beers, and he had put his right hand on her bottom while paying her with his left." Mom let out a long sigh.

"And this isn't the first time he's done this."

"No. My guess is he probably does this every week. From what I've been told, he always gives the waitress a big tip at the end of the night." Mom started crying. "The first time I was told about it, I confronted your father. He denied it. What could I do after that? All of the guys he bowls with every week seem fine with it. I feel sorry for the waitresses he gropes, but there's nothing I can do to stop him. He controls the money in the house. I can't keep him from bowling, I can't keep him from buying beer when he bowls, and I can't stop him from taking advantage of young waitresses."

"I'm sorry, Mom," I said as I moved to hug her. I couldn't give her a decent hug because my hands were coated with soapy water, but I did my best.

"Your dad says we don't have enough money to buy me a TV. But we have enough money for him to spend a lot on beer on Tuesday and Friday nights. It's just not fair."

I continued holding Mom until she pulled away. She used the drying towel to wipe away her tears. She said, "Get back to washing dishes." I did.

After I washed a few, I said, "Doris has been saying two things about me. Well, she may be saying more, but I've heard about two things. The first is that I'm a lousy kisser."

When I didn't say more, Mom asked, "Is that true?"

"I don't know. Doris never complained about how I kissed her when we were dating. I didn't kiss Anna very much. Our kisses were like quick pecks."

I continued washing dishes. Mom eventually asked, "And the second thing?"

"It's really embarrassing, Mom."

"Then it's very important you tell me."

I had sort of agreed to this deal. "The other thing she's told people is that I'm a fairy. She tells them I never made a move on her in all the time we were dating, so I must be interested in guys instead of girls."

"Oh my!" said Mom.

I felt my face was warm with embarrassment. I was glad I could keep my head down while washing dishes instead of seeing my mom's reaction.

"Is that true?" asked Mom gingerly.

"What? No! Neither thing is true. But I've never been a tough guy. I've always been a quiet, studious person. And now all the kids at school are calling me a fairy."

"I'm sure it's not all the kids at school."

"Okay, it's not all the kids. But it's the kids who are jealous of my high grades, and there are a lot of them. The guys who are planning on working at the plant as soon as they graduate. They've always made a little fun of me, and now they are making a lot of fun of me."

"And this is why you think no girl will date you."

"Right! Who would want to date the school fairy? And who's a bad kisser to boot."

I was trembling with anger. "I have no idea why Doris has it out for me. I tried to be the best boyfriend I could be. I spent lots of money on her. I took to her to whatever she wanted to go to. And then she breaks up with me and starts stabbing me in the back." I had to let go of the dish I was cleaning for fear I'd break it.

Mom and I stood there quietly for a while until I regained my composure. Then I resumed washing the dishes. When I was scrubbing the last pan, Mom asked, "How far did you and Doris go?"

"Far?"

"As in making out? Did you touch her? If so, where?"
"Mom!" I said scornfully. "That's really personal! That's between Doris and me. And it's not something I want to discuss with my mother."

Mom watched me finish cleaning the last pan, rinse it and hand it to her. "How about I tell you a very juicy family secret and then you tell me what you and Doris did?"

"Mom! What Doris and I did is between us."

"Well, she doesn't think so. She's been telling the kids at school about what the two of you did."

She had. I thought while I dried my hands and when I was done, I said, "Okay."

"Aunt Agnes had a reputation when she was in high school," said Mom with a smirk. "When she was dating your father, she let him unbutton her blouse and take it off her. She then removed her bra and let him suck on her breasts." Mom added gleefully, "And they weren't even dating seriously!"

"Aunt Agnes!" Aunt Agnes came across as very prim and proper; the type of woman who would not let any man touch her before her wedding night. She regularly made disparaging remarks about girls nowadays letting boys have too much fun.

"Oh, yes. I can't tell you how many times I've had to bite my tongue around her." Mom chuckled. She was obviously enjoying taking her older sister down a notch or two.

"I can't...Golly!...Aunt Agnes."

"She was plain in high school. I think she felt it was the only way she could get boys to pay attention to her. And she really wanted boys to pay attention to her."

I shook my head. "Doris and I did nothing like that. I took her parking once or twice a week. We kissed a lot in the back of your car. She never gave me any sign that she wanted to do more than kiss. After we had dated for a few months, I put my hand on her breast while we were kissing. She pushed my hand away from her without saying anything. I took that as a firm no. I waited for a sign that she wanted me to do it again, but she never gave it to me, so I never tried again."

"Why don't you tell your friends that?"

"Because it sounds so weak and fake." I changed my tone to lower and somewhat goofy. "Oh, I made a move on her. I squeezed her breast once." I shook my head. "I was trying to be a good boyfriend. I wasn't going to keep squeezing her breasts if she didn't want me to."

Mom nodded her head. "That's a good attitude to take. But there was obviously a lot of miscommunication between you and Doris." Mom looked at the clock. "Time for my show."

* * * *

Next Tuesday when I got home, Mom said, "There's a letter for you on the dining table."

When I got close to the dining table, I could see the letter was from Ohio State University. It was either an acceptance letter or a rejection letter. If it was a rejection letter, then I'd certainly be rejected by Northwestern. I picked it up and started opening it. Mom was only a few feet away from me and watched me closely as I pulled the letter out of the envelope. I quickly read the boilerplate message. "I've been accepted."

"That's so wonderful!" Mom gave me a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'm so proud of you, Jack."

"Thanks, Mom." I felt a bit woozy. It was one thing to talk about leaving my hometown to go off to a top college, it was another thing to hold an acceptance letter in my hand. I would go, either to Ohio State or Northwestern. I'd leave this town behind. It didn't matter if my classmates thought I was a fairy. I'd soon have new friends, more academic friends, who'd see me for the person I was.

Mom said, "I think Ohio State rejected Joan. Of course, your Aunt Agnes would never admit that. But I'm sure she pushed Joan to follow in her brother's footsteps, and Joan didn't make the cut." Mom smiled hugely. I had given her a victory over her detested sister. Being accepted to Northwestern would be an even bigger victory.

When Dad got home, I told him I had been accepted to Ohio State. "I'm proud of you, son," he told me as he warmly pumped my hand. Our dinner conversation was Mom and Dad telling me how proud they were of me and who they were going to tell when. My chest kept puffing up. I had never felt so good about myself.

As Dad headed toward the door to go bowling, he said, "Everyone in the bowling alley will know by the end of the night that you've been accepted to Ohio State."

After dinner, I started running the water in the sink without Mom asking me to do the dishes. I was in a happy mood and didn't feel like giving Mom a hard time for wanting me to do what I knew I was going to do.

As I washed, Mom said, "I've been thinking about you and Doris. There was a lot of miscommunication between you two. Has your father talked with you about how to act with girls?"

I snorted. "No. The only thing he's said to me about Anna and Doris is that he thought they were pretty."

Mom nodded. "I thought as much. I guess it's up to me then."

Mom was going to tell me what about girls? This was something I never considered happening.

"The first thing you need to understand about girls, or at least girls in this town, is that they are very concerned about their reputation. They don't want to be known for being easy. As few leave this town, any reputation they get could stick with them for the rest of their life. I have friends who still occasionally snicker about Aunt Agnes' reputation in high school."

"That makes sense. That's why I didn't push things with Doris."

"No. What you did with Doris was wrong. Doris probably felt she had to reject your first advance for the good of her reputation. But she didn't want you to stop. She had a different stop line in mind besides you touching her breast, something well beyond you touching her breast. But you never came close to doing what she wanted you to do. So she became frustrated with your lack of aggression and eventually questioned whether you were interested in her at all."

This made no sense to me. "Hold it." I felt the strong urge to rub my forehead with my hand, but my hands were wet and soapy. "How was I supposed to know it was okay to do more than touch Doris' breast when she stopped me the only time I touched her breast and then didn't say anything about it?"

"Finish washing the dishes, and we'll discuss this more."

I continued washing dishes in a state of confusion. I tried to think of what I could have done differently with Doris and came up with nothing. Why did we have to wait until after I finished washing the dishes to discuss this more?

Mom had been slow to dry and had quite a few dishes in the rinse water when I finished the last pot. As I dried my hands, Mom asked, "Why did you go for Doris' breast instead of her bottom?"

My eyes went wide. "I don't know." Should I have gone for her bottom instead? "When we were kissing, her breasts were right there in front of me. I wanted to touch them. I felt we had dated long enough for me to be able to feel her breasts."

"Her bottom would have probably been a better thing to have touched first. Bottoms get sat on and are leaned against things. Breasts are seldom touched, so a boy touching them has a bigger impact."

"Okay. I'll take your word for that."

"Regardless, when you first touched Doris' bottom or breast, you should have expected her to tell you no. Even if she wanted you to touch her, keeping her good reputation would require her to say no."

Mom continued drying the dishes and putting them away as I thought over what she said. Finally, I said, "I make a move on Doris and she tells me no. What should I have done next?"

"You should have given her an apology that was really a cover for complimenting her. Let's pretend I'm Doris. Put your hand on my bottom and give it a squeeze."

"What?"

Mom said slowly, "Put your hand on my bottom and give it a squeeze."

"Mom!" I couldn't believe she had said that.

"Come on. It's not that big of a deal. Your father is probably squeezing Patty Harney's bottom right now. Go ahead and squeeze mine. It's an important lesson for you to learn."

I was used to being a dutiful son, so I did what my mother told me to do. I reached over and gave Mom's bottom a squeeze while she dried a dish. Mom immediately reached down and pushed my hand away.

I stood next to the sink with no idea of what to do next. This was pretty close to what had actually happened with Doris and me.

Mom said, "Now tell me you're sorry but you couldn't resist squeezing my bottom because of how nice it is."

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't resist squeezing your bottom because of how nice it is."

Mom rolled her eyes. "Come on! You're trying to seduce a girl. Lay it on thick about how beautiful she is and how wonderful she is. Swell her ego. Don't lie or make ridiculous statements, but say true things that make her feel beautiful and very special to you."

"Okay." I looked at my mom's bottom. I hadn't given it much of a look before. It was my mom's bottom and that was something you didn't look at. But I gave it a good, long look and tried to think of nice things I could say about it. "I'm sorry, Doris. You have such a wonderful bottom. So full and round. That skirt really shows off your narrow waist and your marvelous bottom. I couldn't resist touching it." It was a struggle to begin, but the words seem to flow after I started.

"That was very good. Another thing you did wrong with Doris is that you didn't build up to touching her breast. You should have been touching safe spots and then gradually moving to the inappropriate place. Go back to the end of what you said. When you say, 'That skirt shows off your narrow waist', rub my waist in the back with your hand. Then when you say, 'and your marvelous bottom', drop your hand down to my bottom again."

I felt myself breathing hard as I moved close to Mom. I couldn't believe this was happening, but, at the same time, it seemed very normal. I said, "It shows off your narrow waist" as I reached out and rubbed Mom's lower back gently. After a few rubs, I said, "And your marvelous bottom," as I dropped my hand down to Mom's bottom and began rubbing it.

Mom pushed my hand away. "Jack. We shouldn't."

I was stupefied. Mom had told me to rub her bottom, but when I did, she pushed my hand away. I wanted to touch my mom's bottom again, but I had no idea how to other than reaching out and squeezing it.

Mom said, "This is where you assure the girl that you'll never tell anyone what you are doing. Let her know her reputation is safe even if she lets you touch her bottom. And if you've waited until the right time to make your move, she probably does want you to touch her bottom. Now reassure me in your words." Mom took my hand and moved it to the top of her hip. "Always maintain contact with your hand and always keep it moving."

I rubbed the top of Mom's hip while saying, "No one will know, Doris. This will be our secret." I slid my hand over to a little above Mom's bottom and rubbed in a circle. "I'm crazy about you, Doris. Seeing you in that skirt all evening has been driving me wild." I dropped my hand down and rubbed Mom's bottom. It felt wonderful to me. It was soft and firm at the same time. Mom's bottom did have a marvelous shape, jutting back just the right amount. "I'll never tell anyone about this."

Mom stood straight up facing the sink with her eyes closed for a few moments, allowing my hand to roam freely over her bottom. I gave it a little squeeze and went back to rubbing. I was in heaven.

And then Mom turned and pushed my hand away. "You're getting it now. Let's start again at the beginning and have you go all the way through it again."

As Mom dried the last dish, I reached out and squeezed her bottom. She pushed my hand away. I went through the lines she had taught just like before. But this time, I didn't say, "Doris". I didn't say any name. But in my heart, this time I was asking Mom to let me feel her bottom, to run my hand over it and squeeze it. I was promising Mom to never tell anyone that she let me feel her bottom.

When I told Mom again, "I'll never tell anyone about this," she moved my hand away from her.

"It's almost time for my show," she said as she put away the last pot. As she walked out of the kitchen, she winked at me and said, "I told you I'd do something nice for you."

* * * *

The next day at school, I told each of my teachers before class that I had been accepted to Ohio State. Each was quite proud of me. None of my classmates seemed impressed by the news. I was still the too-smart-for-his-own-good fairy.

When I got home that afternoon, I spread my homework on the dining table as always. Mom was vacuuming, and I couldn't help checking out her bottom as she did so. I had never paid attention to it before, but now I couldn't stop paying attention to it. As usual, Mom was wearing a loose sweater that revealed little about her figure above the waist. But her pink cotton skirt hugged her bottom very nicely. Mom did have a narrow waist and a full bottom. As she vacuumed, she regularly bent forward while facing away from me, tightening her skirt on her bottom. The view was delightful. I had seen many movies with beautiful actresses, but none of them put on a show as thrilling to me as the one Mom was giving me.

That night, I stroked my dick while thinking about Mom's bottom. How it had felt in my hand. Its shape and feel. I wanted to feel it again but had no idea how.

The rest of the week was much like that - secretly checking out Mom's bottom in the afternoons and evenings, stroking my dick while thinking about it at night. Saturday, Mom got all dressed up to go out to a party with Dad. Instead of her usual sweater and skirt, she put on a dress. For the first time, I really checked my mom out. She had a large chest, completing an excellent hourglass figure. She wore her dark brown hair short, like all the other women in town did. She had thick dark eyebrows over her light brown eyes. She was wearing blue eye shade and had done something to thicken her lashes. She wore bright red lipstick, which made her lips look very kissable. She wore a pearl necklace, which gave her a certain elegance. Mom's dress came down below her knees, and I could see some nylons below it. My dad was a lucky man to have married a woman so beautiful. Would he get lucky tonight? I had no way to know - I was going to be staying at Grandma and Grandpa's.

By Tuesday, I had a plan put together to get Mom to let me touch her bottom again. It wasn't much of a plan, and I'd have to play things by ear. But I felt it was far more likely to succeed than my attempt to touch Doris' breasts.

Mom and I started washing dishes after dinner as we had been doing. As I was washing the glasses, I said, "When Doris and I went parking, what we did was kiss. That's what I thought you did when you went parking with a girl. But from what you said last week, I should have been moving my hand over her body as we kissed."

"Oh yes, your hands should be moving. Kissing alone gets boring. Have it moving from below her bust down to her waist, the side of her hips, and then to the front of her hips. No place inappropriate, but lots of places. And as you are moving your hand, see how she responds. Does she slow down in kissing you? Does she speed up? Does she make a sound? And occasionally ask her if she likes how you are touching her. Pay attention to how she moves her body. You want to follow her hints. You want her to feel in control. Being in a car alone with a boy is scary for a girl. What if the boy decides to take her by physically overpowering her? I know several girls that that happened to. All of us were fearful of that. You want to assure her that you are paying attention to her wants. You want her to signal she wants her bottom or her breast touched before you touch it. When you touched Doris' breast, it was probably a surprise, and surprising her made her unreceptive to it."

"Thanks, Mom. That's really great information."

"You and your wife should be virgins on your wedding night, but you can have lots of fun together before then."

"Like the fun Aunt Agnes had with her dates."

Mom laughed. "You shouldn't expect to have that much fun with a girl unless you are engaged or almost engaged."

"Why do you wear dresses on Saturday night and sweaters the rest of the week? I think you look much nicer in a dress."

Mom shrugged. "I think I look better in a dress. I like dressing up for your father. But I feel more comfortable in a sweater and wear them when I'm not dressing up for him."

"I think you looked great Saturday night." Now, for the big risk. This could put Mom in the right mood or it could ruin everything. "When Dad drinks too much at the bowling alley, he squeezes the bottom of his waitress. He also drinks a lot every Friday with his coworkers after work. Does he squeeze the bottom of the waitresses there?"

Mom hissed like I had stepped on her toe. After a while, she said, "I've heard reports that he squeezes the bottom of the waitresses there."

"I'm sorry, Mom."

"You have nothing to feel sorry about."

I let that hang for a while by focusing on washing dishes. When I started the pots, I said, "When I was with Doris, my attitude was that I deserved to be able to touch her breasts because I had been her boyfriend for so long. If I understand you, that was the wrong attitude. Really, the wrong way of looking at things. What my attitude should have been was to have as much harmless fun with her as she'd permit, make her feel that I felt she was special and wonderful, and then, following her hints, steadily expand the harmless fun we did while reassuring her that it would all be our secret."

"That's a good way of putting it. And it's very important that you do keep it a secret. If you were to tell on Doris, why would your next girl not think you'd tell on her?"

I started on the last pot. Things were going well. "I'm not a talker or a bragger. It's natural for me to keep secrets." I put the last pot into the rinse water. When Mom bent forward to take it out of the rinse water, I put my hand on her bottom and began rubbing lightly. "I'll never tell anyone what we did last week."

Mom moved my hand away. "Jack, I'm your mother."

I brought my hand back to her bottom and squeezed. "You're my mother who has a marvelous bottom that I loved feeling. I felt it last week. What's the harm in my feeling it again this week?"

Mom pushed my hand away again. "It's not right, Jack. Last week was a one-time lesson."

I eluded Mom's hand and cupped Mom's bottom again. "It's not right for Dad to squeeze the bottom of waitresses twice a week. Why not let your son squeeze your bottom? Keep giving him lessons on how to have harmless fun with a woman?" Mom didn't immediately push my hand this time. "You enjoy this, don't you? You like having your bottom squeezed. That's why you had me do it last week."

Mom put her hands on the counter in front of the sink. She seemed indecisive as I continued to explore her bottom. I squeezed a cheek, rubbed her bottom in a circle, and then squeezed the other cheek. I knew now to keep moving, to keep doing different things.

Mom finally said, "We shouldn't do this. It's not what a mother and son should do."

"We'll only do it on Tuesdays after dishes and before your show. That's once a week, compared to Dad squeezing waitresses' bottoms twice a week."

Mom kept her hands on the counter. From the way she was breathing and the way she held her head, she was enjoying the feelings my hand was giving her. She wasn't resisting my hand, but she wasn't encouraging it either. She seemed on the fence.

"I don't know, Jack..."

"No one will ever know, Mom. It'll just be some harmless fun we have together."

Mom let out a long breath. "Only on Tuesdays and only between the end of washing dishes and the start of my show."

"Absolutely," I said as I squeezed her bottom even harder. "And I'll finish rinsing and putting away the dishes if need be."
Mom pushed her bottom back into my hand, surrendering it to my touch. Elation went through me. Mom was going to let me squeeze her bottom every week! She also spread her legs while keeping a grip on the counter.

My hand went wild for a little while, and then I remembered that I needed to let Mom feel she was in control. "Do you like it best when I squeeze?" I squeezed Mom's bottom. "Or when I rub?" I made a quick circle around Mom's bottom.

"I like both. Don't do the same thing too much. You can rub down the top of my legs, but don't squeeze there."

I moved my hand down the top of the back of Mom's thighs, rubbed for a few moments, and then brought my hand back up for a squeeze. I listened to Mom take deep breaths.

"Would you wear a dress for me next Tuesday?"

"Why should I do that?"

"For me. I think you look prettier in a dress. I want to squeeze your bottom through a dress instead of a skirt."

Mom was quiet for a bit as I continued enjoying her bottom. I pressed firmly in the space between Mom's bottom and her waist and then gently slid my hand a few inches. I slowly worked my hand across the space between Mom's bottom and waist that way. I was trying something new, exploring a new part of her body.

Finally, she said, "I can do that."

I enjoyed Mom's bottom for a few minutes more before she said, "It's time for my show." She stood upright, gathered herself, and then walked away from the sink. A few dishes were still in the rinse water, and I was happy to dry them and put them away.

Before Mom left the kitchen, she turned, pointed her finger, and said firmly, "Not a word to anyone ever."

I raised my hands in a gesture of surrender. "I promise. Never a word."

* * * *

For the next seven days, I worried that Mom would change her mind. I was always full of nervous energy. I found it hard to read. One time, Mom asked why I was pacing. "I'm wondering when I'll hear from Northwestern. I've been accepted by Ohio State, and they want me to tell them that I'm coming."

"Northwestern's application was longer than Ohio State's. It has more to process."

"Or it could be I didn't make the first cut. They might have sent out their first batch of acceptance letters, and they are waiting to see how many people take them up on their acceptance before contacting me."

"You haven't been rejected, and that's good news. You'll just have to wait."

A month ago, I hadn't cared about getting accepted into Northwestern. Now, I wanted it badly. I wanted to make Mom proud of me. I thought it wasn't a coincidence that Mom had let me touch her bottom the first time the day I got the acceptance from Ohio State. What might she do if I got accepted to Northwestern?

But also, I was sick of my classmates. I was sick of them snickering at me when I walked by. Even my classmates who were going to Ohio State seemed to play along with me being called a fairy. I wanted to leave the state now; leave them all behind. Northwestern was my opportunity to do so.

When I got home from school Tuesday, Mom was wearing a cotton pastel yellow dress that had a blue-flower print. Its sleeves came down past her elbows, and the full top had buttons down the front. The buttons drew my eyes to Mom's breasts, which seemed to push the top of the dress far out. The top of the dress narrowed as it moved toward her waist, which was snuggly encompassed by a blue belt. From Mom's waist, the dress spread out generously, running down to halfway between Mom's knees and ankles.

"You look beautiful, Mom."

Mom blushed. "Thank you. It's just a simple dress."

"It looks great on you, Mom. It shows what a great figure you have."

Mom blushed some more. I went into my room and eventually started studying at the dining table. Mom pulled out the vacuum cleaner and started vacuuming. I don't know if it was intentional, but she seemed to spend the whole time vacuuming facing away from me, allowing me to ogle her bottom to my heart's delight. Mom seemed to be embracing the idea that I'd be enjoying her bottom a little later.

Mom was cooking dinner when Dad got home. When he sat down at the dinner table, he noticed that Mom was wearing a dress instead of her usual sweater-and-skirt. "What's with the dress?" he asked as he pointed with his fork. He then dropped his fork down to scoop up some food without waiting for an answer.

"I felt like wearing something different."

Dad didn't respond. Instead, he wolfed down his dinner like he always did on Tuesday nights. Mom told him about her day as he ate, like she normally did. I kept quiet, like I normally did. It didn't take Dad long to finish dinner and then call, "I'm off," but it seemed to take forever.

"I hope he has a good time bowling," said Mom with a small smirk.

"Doesn't he always? Beers and bowling with friends make for a lot of fun."

Mom gave me a small but wicked smile. Dad was going to squeeze Patty Harney's bottom tonight. I had the feeling Mom didn't care for once, as I was going to be squeezing her bottom shortly.

"Anything interesting happen at school today?"

"While I was going to fifth period, I saw Tommy Twiggs and Barbara Totten standing close together and talking."

"Tommy Twiggs? Isn't he a greaser?"

"Very much so." He was always wearing jeans and a leather jacket and had his hair greased up; owned a motorcycle.

"Her mother won't like that news at all."

Mom as usual slowly ate her dinner. It felt far slower than normal, but it probably wasn't. I told her what little gossip I had picked up at school. She filled some of it in with gossip she had heard. She seemed to want to talk about other people being naughty before we got naughty. When she finished her dinner, we cleared the dishes as we normally did. We continued gossiping as we washed the dishes. Once I put the last pot into the rinse water and dried my hands, I reached over to squeeze Mom's bottom. She pushed it out for me as I did so.

"You've been a very good boy this week," said Mom in almost a purr. "No inappropriate comments. No acting oddly. I'm sure your father doesn't suspect a thing. Oh, that feels so good."

Mom steadily dried the dishes and set them on the counter to her right for me to put away later. The whole time, she gyrated her hips as I squeezed and rubbed. The occasional moan made my blood boil.

"You really enjoy being touched like this."

"I do."

"And Dad doesn't do it."

"Not for a long time. He wants to start much further along."

I found it ironic yet sad that Dad was twice a week squeezing other women's bottoms when he had a wife at home who loved having her bottom squeezed.

Once Mom had dried the last dish and had drained the rinse water, she leaned forward to the point where she was almost leaning on the sink so she could really thrust out her bottom. I twisted over and ran both hands over her bottom. Sometimes I squeezed her bottom with both hands, other times I squeezed with one hand while rubbing with the other. After a few minutes of that, she stood up somewhat and put her hands on the counter in front of the sink. I stepped behind her and pulled her back to me, pressing my hard dick gently against her bottom.

Mom said, "Nibble on my neck."

I nibbled on the right side of Mom's neck while putting my hands on the front of her hips and holding her lightly against me. I could have pressed my dick hard into her bottom, but I couldn't muster the courage to do so. Mom maintained her upright position, showing no sign she wanted stronger contract between her bottom and my dick.

After half a minute, Mom turned in my hands. "That was fun." She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. "And you were a very good boy." She raised a finger. "Remember, not a word to anyone and don't act the least bit different."

Mom slipped out of my arms and went into the living room.

My chest was pounding as I watched Mom leave the kitchen. She was amazing. I had seen beautiful actresses in the movies. I had seen the prettiest girls in my school. None of them held a candle to my mom. Our little session had filled me with lust in a way no other girl had done. Two weeks ago after I touched Mom's bottom for the first time, I had felt like touching it again was the only thing I wanted; that touching it would make me completely happy. Now, I wanted much more. I knew it was wrong to want more, but I couldn't help it. I wanted to touch Mom's naked bottom. I wanted to squeeze it with my hands. I wanted to see her breasts, to touch them and suck on them like Aunt Agnes had let Dad do.

But I had no idea how to make that happen.

* * * *

The next Tuesday, I had another plan. It was a lot bolder than my other plan, but I hoped it would work just as well.

When I got home, Mom was wearing a pink dress with a hummingbird print. It was very pretty, very feminine and very ladylike. In the middle of Mom's bust, the fabric split. A narrow "V" went up from there, exposing a tiny triangle of Mom's upper chest. My eyes kept being drawn to there as Mom vacuumed. I'd study for a little bit at the dining table, and then look up to stare at that narrow triangle of light pink skin.

Just before Dad came home, Mom came over to the dining table. She leaned forward, giving me an expanded view of her upper chest. I couldn't see her bra, but what I could see made me suck in my breath. She said commandingly, "Don't look at my chest once your father comes home." And then she went into the kitchen.

I buckled down and studied after that. Mom called Dad and me to dinner. Dad didn't even comment on Mom's dress tonight. He wolfed down his food and was soon gone. Mom and I ate a leisurely dinner. I intentionally ate more slowly than Mom, and I did my best to hold a pleasant conversation with her as we ate.

After dinner, Mom and I moved to the sink. We washed them together as we had the prior week. But this time, when I finished washing all the dishes, I picked up a towel and said, "Let me help you dry. It's almost time for your show."

Mom gave me an almost angry look. She had been expecting me to once again lovingly explore her bottom. "You don't have to. I can be a little late for my show."

"I don't want you to be late for your show," I said as evenly as I could. Butterflies were flapping around in my stomach. Would I ruin everything tonight? "I know how important your show is to you."

Mom gave me a long look and then shrugged. With both of us drying, it didn't take long until all the dishes were put away. I looked at the clock on the wall, and it was a couple of minutes until Mom's show started.

Mom and I went into the living room.

"I'll turn on the radio," I said as I walked toward it.

Mom sat down on the couch. "So have you grown to like my show?"

As I adjusted the radio to the right station, I said, "I like listening to it with you. I wouldn't listen to it by myself."

I stayed by the radio until I heard the theme song for the show. I then moved over to the couch. Mom was sitting on the right side of the couch as I faced it, leaving me room to sit on the left side of the couch. I signaled her to move over as I sat down in the middle of the couch. Mom shifted over close to the right arm of the couch.

I tried to calmly listen to the show. I'd occasionally look over at Mom's dress. I couldn't raise my eyes above the skirt portion. Would this really work?

After the facts of the case had been introduced, the announcer began talking about Lucky Strike cigarettes. Time to put my plan into action.

"Mom, do you remember when I told you that Doris was telling everyone is a lousy kisser? She's still telling everyone that." I shifted to my left to be a little closer to Mom.

"Oh, ignore her. It's just mean gossip she's making up about you."

"What if it's true, Mom? What if I am a lousy kisser?" I shifted closer to her again. She moved right up next to the arm of the couch.

"I'm sure you're a fine kisser," Mom said at a slightly higher pitch than normal.

"Teach me how to kiss, Mom. We could practice kissing during your show."

"What? No. I shouldn't be kissing my son."

The voice of the detective came back on. I turned toward Mom. I had her pinned against the arm of the couch. Her eyes went wide as I moved my lips toward hers. I planted a kiss on Mom's lips. Mom struggled and pushed me gently back.

"Relax and listen to your show, Mom. You don't want to miss a single detail."

Mom pushed back on me once again and then relaxed. She let me press my lips against her. She didn't actively kiss me back, but she didn't fight my kisses. I gave Mom a series of slow kisses, with small breaks between each one. It was how I had kissed Doris.

When the announcer began saying how everything a family needed was in the Sears-Roebuck catalog, Mom pushed me away.

"What were you thinking?" She asked indignantly. "You should never kiss your mother like that."

"When I get to Northwestern, I don't want all the girls to think I'm some hayseed from the sticks who's a lousy kisser. Do you?"

"Well..." That threw Mom off her stride.

"No girl around here is going to kiss me. Not with everyone at school saying I'm a fairy. And I want to be a good kisser." I shifted so I could use my hands to talk. "Look, Mom. You did a great job of teaching me how to make the first move on a girl after we've been kissing for a while. But those lessons will go to waste unless you teach me how to kiss. Before I try to touch a girl's bottom, I have to kiss her long enough and well enough that she wants me to take that step, right?"

"Yes, that's right, but..."

The detective came back on, calling to his strong but slightly dim partner. Mom instantly swiveled her head toward the radio. I took the opportunity to move in to kiss Mom again. Not passion kisses. Short, gentle kisses that wouldn't distract her too much from her show.

Mom resisted for only a brief moment before relaxing. After a while, she started to kiss me back.

When the announcer launched into a different pitch for Lucky Strikes, I pulled back from Mom.

"Fine," she said somewhat angrily. "I'll teach you how to kiss. I don't want the girls at Northwestern to think you're some hayseed from the sticks who's a lousy kisser."

I let out a small sigh of relief.

Mom held out her palm while flattening and stiffening it. She then pressed it against my arm. "You don't want your lips to be like that. Your lips are too hard, and you're pressing them too hard." Mom cupped her palm and lightly squeezed my arm with it. "Your lips should be like that. Soft. Gentle. You want to feel my lips with yours."

The slightly dim partner came on to announce that he had found something. I moved toward Mom. She offered no resistance this time as we kissed. I focused on my lips, making them as soft as I could. I paid attention to Mom's lips, trying to feel their location with mine. Again, I kissed her for like five seconds, took a small break, and kissed her again, over and over as we listened to the new developments in the case.

Mom grabbed my hand and placed it on the right side of her stomach. I gave it a gentle squeeze...

There was a knock on the front door.

I jumped off the couch. It was probably some friend or neighbor. What should I do? Should I go sit on the opposite end of the couch from Mom? Should I go to my books on the dining table? Should I go to my room?

Mom got up, straightened herself, and moved toward the door. I decided to go sit at the dining table and act like I was studying. Mom watched me move and opened the door once I was seated.

"Florence!" My mom cried happily. "It's so good to see you." Florence, our next-door neighbor stepped into our house. "What brings you over this evening?"

Florence held out a measuring cup. "I'm doing some baking and didn't have enough sugar. Can I borrow some?"

"Sure." Mom moved toward in front of the couch. "Would you mind waiting for the next commercial break?"

"No, not at all."

Mom and Florence sat down on the couch and listened to Mom's show. I was so angry as I sat at the dining room table. My plan had been working so great until Florence had shown up. I had been kissing Mom, and she was kissing me back.

When the announcer came on, Mom and Florence went into the kitchen. The whole time they were in the kitchen, I muttered quietly, "Leave! Leave! Leave!"

But Florence didn't leave. Once Mom's show was over, she turned off the radio, and Florence made no move toward the door. Instead, she stayed on the couch and started telling Mom a story about one of their other neighbors.

Mom said, "Jack, why don't you go to your room?" She didn't want me to hear her and Florence gossip.

I gathered my school stuff and moped to my room. Everything had been going so well. I was so close...to what exactly I wasn't sure. But I knew I had been close to it before Florence had shown up. And now? Who knows? Would Mom have second thoughts about kissing me? Would she say that she had given me enough of a lesson? I wanted to pull my hair out.

* * * *

I spent the next two days thinking about kissing Mom on the couch. When she put my hand on her, did she intend for me to move it up to her breast? Or back to her bottom? Or something else? It had felt great to have my hand on her like that, and then everything was over a few seconds later. Over those two days, Mom gave me no sign of what she thought of Tuesday night.

Thursday afternoon, I decided I'd ask Mom while Dad was at the bar Friday night what were her thoughts about what we had done on Tuesday night. Then at dinner Thursday night, Mom announced, "The Andersons are getting a TV tomorrow." She made that sound like an accusation. "Ethel has invited me to come over after they have it working." Mom flicked her hand toward Dad. "You'll have to rustle up some grub on your own after you get home from the bar." She said more softly to me. "You'll have to make yourself a sandwich."

Dad half-mumbled, "I don't see the big deal about TVs". Mom glared at him. "The screens are so small. It's nothing like seeing a movie."

"You don't have to leave your house to watch TV," said Mom angrily. "While you're bowling or at a bar or a poker game, I could watch the TV by myself. I'm not going to go to a theater all by myself."

From the way Mom delivered those lines and how Dad reacted to them, I had the feeling that they had had this argument before.

The rest of dinner was quiet.

* * * *

Tuesday when I got home from school, Mom was wearing her usual sweater and skirt. My heart fell. I had pushed too far the prior week, and now we were going back to how we were before.

I set up my books on the dining table, but couldn't get into studying. When Mom started vacuuming, I didn't watch her like I had. Mostly, I kept my head down and felt sad for myself.

Once Dad had wolfed down his dinner and left, Mom asked sternly, "Did you tell anyone that you kissed me last week?"

"What? No, Mom. I haven't told anyone."

"Good. A mother and son shouldn't kiss like we did last week. Before you kissed me, you should have told me that you would never tell anyone that we had kissed."

I wrinkled my brow. This is not how I expected our conversation about us kissing would go. "Mom, I promise to never tell anyone about us kissing. Or my touching your bottom. Not my friends and certainly not Dad. It'll always be a secret just between the two of us. I'll go to my grave without telling anyone about it."

Mom nodded her head and continued eating. I ate along with her, wondering what she was thinking about. Now, I realized it was stupid of me to have not assured her of the secrecy of our kissing as she had made such a big deal about secrecy before. Mom didn't seem offended that I had kissed her, and I was thankful for that. Would she let me kiss her again? I had no idea. But I resolved to let Mom make the decision on whether we'd kiss again.
Mom said, "Tell me about your dates with Doris. Start from when you picked her up and go to when you dropped her off at her house."

"Ummm..." My first thought was to tell Mom no, that that information was too personal. Maybe I should try to get Mom to tell me some juicy family gossip in return for the details about my dates with Doris?

I waved those thoughts off. Mom seemed to be on the fence about us kissing. Cooperation would be far more effective than bargaining.

"Friday at school, we'd discuss briefly what we were going to do. She typically wanted to go see a movie. I'd try to talk her into going to a drive-in, but she'd always turn me down. She'd always say that her parents wouldn't let her. She'd tell me when to come over to her house. It was always like twenty minutes before the movie started. I'd go over, and her dad would welcome me into their house. He had a little lecture he gave me about not making a move on his daughter and the importance of having her home on time. That's when Doris would come down the stairs."

"What did you tell her when she came down the stairs?"

"Hi."

Mom said incredulously. "'Hi'? That's all you told her? 'Hi'?"

I dropped my head and started pushing my food around my plate. I had obviously screwed up, but I didn't see how. "Her dad was right there. I couldn't really say anything more than that."

"You definitely could have said something more than that." I looked up at Mom, and she looked a little angry. "Continue."

"We left her house and went out to my car. At first, we just walked together. After we had dated for a while, we held hands while we walked to the car."

"And what did you tell her as you walked to the car?"

My jawed dropped partially. I had the feeling that Mom wasn't going to like my answer. A mild dread came over me. "I'd talk to her about the movie we were going to see." Mom rolled her eyes in disgust but didn't say anything. "I escorted her to her side of the car, where I opened the door for her. I did my best to be a true gentleman. Once she was seated, I closed the door and went around to my door. The whole time, her parents watched us."

"What did you tell her once you got in the car?"

Another feeling of dread came over me. "I'd talk about the movie some more."

Mom shook her head sadly for a few moments and then took a big breath. "Jack, I have bad news. It doesn't matter whether you go to Ohio State or Northwestern, the girls will think you are a hayseed from the sticks." She leaned forward. "You have absolutely no idea how to act on a date." She leaned back. "It's no wonder you never got any further than kissing." Mom resumed eating her dinner.

I was in shock for a little while. I slowly processed what Mom had said. Finally, I replied, "Mom, you always told me to be a perfect gentleman with Doris. And I was!"

"When I told you that, I was trying to get you to not do too much. I never intended for you to do nothing with her." Mom went back to eating her dinner. I finished mine. I felt like I had failed Mom in some undefined way.

Before taking one of her last bites, Mom said, "I have a proposition for you, Jack."

I perked up. "What, Mom?"

"This conversation is to be just between the two of us. You're never to tell anyone about this. Ever. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Mom." This sounded very promising.

"The only reason I'm willing to bring this idea up is that you've been great about acting like nothing has happened between us. You've not tried to do what we did on Tuesday while we were washing dishes any other time. You never made any comments about it. You never said anything to your father or acted in any way toward him to give him a hint that we had done something beyond what a mother and son typically do. It's very important that you continue to do that. Last week was very disturbing to me because you were doing something outside of our agreed-upon time."

Mom hadn't seen all that disturbed at the time, but I wasn't going to argue with her. "I'm sorry, Mom. I really, really wanted to practice kissing you, and I thought you'd turn me down if I just asked you."

Mom moved her hand as if she was pushing something away. "Let's set that aside. Here is my proposition. I teach you how to date." My jaw dropped. "Here's how we'd do it. After I finish eating, you clear the table and start washing the dishes. I'll go get dressed for a date. I won't get completely dressed up like I do when your father and I go out. I won't wear makeup for example. I need to be able to look normal if someone knocks on the door. When it's five minutes before my show starts, you come out into the living room. Say, 'I'm here'. I'll come out of my bedroom and walk down the hallway to you. We'll practice what you should say to a girl when you pick her up for a date. Then we'll walk over to the couch. While we're doing that, you'll practice what you should say to a girl when you're walking her out to your car. Then we'll have a date on the couch while we listen to my show. When my show is done, you'll walk me back to the hallway. We'll practice you saying goodnight to the girl. And then if you haven't finished washing the dishes, you'll go back and finish washing them."

My heart was pounding in my chest. I couldn't believe what Mom was proposing. I also wondered what she meant by 'date on a couch'. Would it be like what Doris and I did at the theater? Or would it be like what Mom and I had done while washing dishes but with kisses?

"That sounds wonderful, Mom."

"Okay." Mom pushed herself away from the table. "I'll see you five minutes before my show."

* * * *

Five minutes before the start of the show, I put the last pot into the rinse water. I'd come back to dry them and put them away later. I half-ran to the entrance of the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. I called out "I'm here." I blushed after saying that as I had said it a half-pitch too high. My heart was pounding in my chest as I heard the door open to my parent's bedroom. When Mom walked out, my heart stopped. Mom was wearing a light blue dress with white polka dots. The top white collar was folded down, drawing attention to the pearl necklace Mom was wearing. The collar framed a slight plunge to the neckline, exposing a tantalizing amount of Mom's upper chest. Buttons ran down from there, and I couldn't help wondering what mysteries they guarded. A dark belt cinched her small waist. I looked up to see the blue hat she was wearing. Her dark brown hair ended in a large curl which rested lightly on her shoulders. Mom was wearing white gloves, which she showed off by holding her hands in front of her. That drew attention to the skirt of the dress, which flared away from Mom's waist. Mom was now about five feet from me. She stopped and posed briefly so I can take in the rest of her outfit. Her dress came to a little below her knees, exposing nylons that lead down to a pair of white high-heels.

"You look so beautiful, Mom."

Mom gave me a disapproving look. "I'm your date who has just come down the stairs in her house. Her father is right there. You need to say something nice, but not something so gushing that it'll upset her father. Try that again."

"I...ummm..."

"Also, I've spent a lot of time getting dressed up for you. Notice specific things about how I look and mention one of those now."

"Okay." I gathered myself and racked my brains for something that would fit what Mom was telling me to say. "You look very pretty in that dress."

Mom nodded. "A good thing to ask if you haven't seen it before is if it's new. If a girl spends money to look good for you, she wants you to notice that she has. If it isn't new, it's still a nice compliment. But be sure you haven't seen it before - if she wore it a few weeks earlier, she'll be angry that you didn't remember it."

I expected Mom to walk out of the hallway, but instead, she stayed where she was. I then realized that I hadn't seen her dress before. "Is that dress new?"

Mom walked toward me, holding her hand up for me to take. "Why yes it is. I bought it yesterday. I'm glad you noticed." Mom stopped at the end of the hallway. "When I step out of the hallway, let's pretend we're leaving my parents' house. Walk me around the living room and talk to me like you're walking me to your car and then wherever we're going for a date. Eventually, we'll stop at the couch in time for my show to start."

I took Mom's gloved hand, and we took a few steps into the living room, but then Mom stopped. She said, "Now is the time to tell me I'm beautiful. Follow that up with more details on how I look."

We resumed walking hand-in-hand. "You look so beautiful tonight. I love how everything you're wearing works together to create such a beautiful look." I kicked myself for using 'beautiful' twice, but I hadn't been able to think of anything better.

Mom didn't comment on my faux pas. Instead, she said, "Now is a good time to tell your date what your plans are for the evening. Tell her in a way so she understands that these are suggestions which she can say 'no' to."

As we continued walking around the living room, I said, "I was thinking we'd go see the new Gary Cooper movie, have some ice cream, and then spend some time listening to a radio show on the couch."

"Oh, that sounds wonderful," said Mom in a softer tone and a slightly-higher pitch than what she had used to instruct me on how to behave. After a few more steps, she switched back to her Mom-voice. "If someone knocks on the door, I'll hand you my hat and put my gloves in it. You take that to your bedroom and close the door. Read a book in there until I come to you."

"Okay, Mom."

"Also, I am not your enemy tonight. I'm not someone who is keeping you from the pleasures you deserve. Instead, I am your partner on a journey. Enjoy the journey; don't be fixated on any particular destination. If you pay attention to where I want to go, we could wind up in some serendipitous place that you weren't expecting."

"Okay, Mom." It was almost time for Mom's show to begin. I walked her to the couch. "Please sit here. I'll join you shortly."

As Mom sat down, I rushed over to the radio and turned it on. Fortunately, it was on the station that Mom's show was on. The theme song for the show was playing - we had cut it close, but I felt Mom had wanted to establish a number of ground rules before we started.

Mom was sitting down just off the center of the couch. She patted the space to her right for me to sit down. I wouldn't be able to pin her against the couch arm this time. Once I sat down, Mom took my left hand while sitting upright and facing forward. I took that as a sign she didn't want to be kissed yet. Instead, I lifted my left arm over her shoulders. I then grabbed her hand with my right hand and gave it a squeeze. Mom squeezed it back. I took that as a sign I had done well for this part of our date.

When the first commercial break came on, Mom twisted on the couch toward me. "That's an interesting case," she said in her date-voice.

I twisted toward her so we could talk easily to each other. I kept my left hand on her right shoulder when holding her hand with my right. "It doesn't sound all that different than the case last week."

Mom frowned. She said in her Mom-voice, "Share with my enjoyment of the show. Make my journey with you enjoyable."

"So, I should be trying to make you happy?"

"No. You should be trying to make us both happy. And I should be trying to make us both happy. We should be working as a team for our mutual enjoyment." Mom reached up, removed her hat, and put it behind her. "We're going to kiss this time. You want to start slow. If I respond positively to that, you can increase the passion." Mom had removed her gloves and put them into her hat. "You want to steadily build a mood."

"Okay." The voice of the detective came back on. I leaned forward slowly toward my mother. I was still amazed by the idea that I was about to kiss her with her permission. I pressed my lips softly against hers as I listened to the detective talk with his partner in preparation for talking to a witness. As they interviewed the murdered man's wife, Mom and I kissed a number of slow, soft kisses. I thought back to Mom's advice on kissing the prior week. I did my best to feel Mom's lips with mine. The wife gave the detective some information which led him to a Frenchman. As he interviewed the Frenchman, I varied how I kissed Mom - slightly different angle, slightly different timing, kissing a slightly different part of her lips. Mom sighed appreciatively.

Far too soon, the next commercial break began. I pulled back from Mom, but continued to hold her hand. "That was wonderful," I said.

"You did a good job of kissing. Next time, put your hand on me while we kiss." Mom switched to her date-voice. "What do you think of the show so far?"

"Interesting. I don't think it was the Frenchman who murdered him. He's a former soldier, and French soldiers are pathetic." I told Mom a series of jokes that I had heard about how the French military was, finishing with the joke, "Do you know why the French built tree-lined boulevards? So the Germans could march in the shade."

When the show restarted, Mom surprised me by resuming sitting face-forward. She sat very stiffly. I had obviously done something wrong, but I had no idea what. I thought about kissing Mom anyway, but decided that would flop. Instead, I resumed putting my left arm around her shoulders. But this time, she didn't relax into my arm. I had screwed things up. I paid almost no attention to the show, instead frantically trying to figure out what I had done wrong.

When the announcer came out, I said, "I'm sorry, Mom. But I have no idea what I'm sorry about."

Mom patted my leg. "I told you that this was a journey. Our conversation is an important part of our traveling together. When you talk, you take me someplace. I didn't want to hear you disparage the French." Mom said that hotly. "A close family friend was shot down over France during the war. A French family hid him for almost a year until they were liberated. They risked their lives for him. I don't want to hear you say again that the French are cowards or are pathetic."

"Okay. I'm sorry, Mom. I had no idea. I was just saying what the other guys say at school."

"When you talk to your date, you shouldn't assume that she has the same opinions as you. When a new topic comes up, you should probe to find out what she thinks about it. You should have gotten my opinion on the French before giving me a long-winded speech on them."

I closed my eyes and sighed. How many times had I done something like that with Doris? I had no idea. Which was bad.

But no point in crying over spilled milk. I decided to try to make up for my mistake by doing what Mom had told me to do. "That delivery driver sounded very suspicious. I don't know if he's the murderer, but he seemed to know more than he was letting on."

"It could be. I'm guessing the detective will interview him again once he knows more."

We discussed the case until the show started again. This time, Mom stayed turned toward me. I leaned forward and kissed her. As I was kissing her, I put my hand on her side just above her waist. Mom kissed me a little harder. I began moving my hand around. The intensity of our kissing seemed to naturally increase. When the next commercial break began and we stopped kissing, we were both breathing hard.

I checked the clock. We were halfway through the show. Though I had loved kissing Mom, I felt like she'd let me do much more than that. She had let me squeeze her bottom in the kitchen. I was certain she'd let me do at least that. Maybe more? How much more?

When we resumed kissing, I moved my hand slowly up toward Mom's breast. Mom moved her arm to block my hand. I was disappointed by that. Then Mom twisted slightly, so her bottom was lifted off the couch. I moved my hand down slowly toward it. Mom continued to hold that position. I had my hand down to the top of the side of Mom's hip. I slid it down as I moved it forward, bringing it to on top of Mom's bottom. I gave her bottom a squeeze. Mom moaned slightly. I kissed more eagerly as I explored her bottom. Mom broke the kiss. "Kiss my neck," she whispered.

I dropped my head down to Mom's neck and kissed it. That allowed me to reach more of Mom's bottom.

"Don't give me a hickey," said Mom quietly.

I nodded as I continued covering her neck with gentle kisses while squeezing and rubbing Mom's bottom. I was in heaven. This was so absolutely wonderful. This was what I had wished my dates with Doris would have been like, but so much better because I was kissing and feeling a real woman, someone who knew how to please her date.

When the announcer came on and we pulled apart, Mom straightened her clothing some. She said, "As you've made quite an advance, you should check with your date that she's okay with it. She might not have been, but didn't want to protest."

I nodded my head. "I want her to feel in control. She has the right to veto the new thing I did."

"Exactly. She might not feel comfortable doing it now, but will in the future. Again, a girl needs to seem not too easy. She might have loved you feeling her bottom but feels that it was too soon to let you do so."

"So if she tells me she doesn't want to do that again, accept her decision but try again later."

"Correct." Mom squeezed my hand. "This time, I want you to put your hand behind my head. Run your fingers through my hair. A woman's scalp is very excitable."

"Okay." I felt Mom had finished with her instructions to me. "So he's going to re-interview the delivery driver, just as you thought."

During the next round of kissing, I kept my right hand behind Mom's head. It was okay, but not nearly as exciting as feeling Mom's bottom. But we did lots of different kissing, sometimes with our tongues inside the other's mouth, sometimes with our tongues outside, and sometimes kissing without our tongues. The session was heady, but not amazing.

"What did you think?" asked Mom when the commercial break started.

"It was enjoyable..."

Mom squeezed my hand. "Variety is good. Take a break from doing one thing for a while and then come back to it."

I squeezed Mom's hand back. I took that to mean she was inviting me back to more bottom squeezing. Back to the show - "I'm beginning to think it's the wife who killed him. These leads she gave the detective don't seem to be amounting to anything.

"I don't think it's the wife. That would be too obvious. There's some clue we're overlooking."

I counted down the moments before the commercial break ended. Once it did, Mom and I pounced on each other. After only a few kisses, Mom twisted so I could have access to her bottom. I immediately started staking claim to this territory; exploring here, squeezing there, rubbing a spot, gently sliding my hand around. The whole time, Mom and I kissed passionately. I regularly alternated how we kissed, sometimes with my tongue, sometimes with only my lips, and sometimes kissing her neck. Mom pressed her right hand against my chest, giving it little squeezes that drove me on to even more passionate making out. We were both moaning loudly the whole time. As we both knew it was the end of the show, we didn't hold back and instead hit our peak passion.

When the theme song for the show came on, Mom pushed me away. We both flopped against the back of the couch, breathing hard. My hard dick made a large tent in my pants. I pushed it down hopefully before Mom noticed. My heart was pounding in my chest. I had never felt anything like that with Doris. That had been passion. That had been pleasure. That had been an amazing experience I knew I'd remember for the rest of my life.

When I finally caught my breath, I asked, "Who was the murderer?"
Mom laughed. "I don't know. I stopped paying attention to the show." She grinned at me. "I'll find out tomorrow. I'll call one of my friends and tell her that something happened so I missed the ending." Mom stood up. "It's time to take your date home." She held out her hand to me.

I stood up while taking Mom's hand. I picked up her hat off the couch and handed it to her. "I had a wonderful time. I hope you did too."

Mom put her hat and gloves on. "I did. A most wonderful time."

I took Mom's hand in mine and started to walk her around the living room. "Do tell me what the ending was. I was enjoying the mystery very much."

"I will." Mom shifted to her mom-voice. "If you want to go out with her again, now is a good time to get her ideas on what to do on the next date. Show that you are interested in doing what she wants to do."

"Find a journey that we'd both enjoy taking."

"Exactly." Mom stopped in front of the hallway to the bedrooms. "I feel your father takes me far too much for granted. He doesn't ask me what I want to do. He doesn't pay attention to how I dress. When I wear this dress Saturday, he won't notice it's new. Don't be that way. Pay attention. Paying attention is the best way to show your girl that you love her."

Mom turned and strode down the hallway. I watched her fine figure as she walked. Once she closed the door to her bedroom, I turned to return to the dishes.

* * * *

The next day, I did my best to hide from Dad and everyone else that I had had an incredible evening with Mom. Thursday at dinner, Mom announced Ethel had invited her to spend Friday evening with her watching TV, and that Dad and I would have to again rustle up our on dinners.

Saturday morning at eleven, I entered the theater for a double feature as I always did. The first movie was a Western, and the second was a gangster movie. For the first time, I paid attention to how the men talked to the female star. How did they express interest in her? How did they compliment her? I tried forming different ways of complimenting the way the female star was dressed in different scenes. I had always just thought, "My, oh my!" when I saw the female star. Now, I tried to analyze how what she was wearing contributed to her attractiveness.

Monday night was a bit awkward once Dad left for his poker game, leaving Mom and me alone in the house. Mom stayed busy ironing while listening to music on the radio. Once I was done with my schoolwork, I said to Mom, "I'm going to the library."

"Why are you going to the library?"

"I want to pick up something more appropriate for me to read if I'm going to Northwestern. The Count of Monte Cristo is interesting and fun, but it's a lot like reading a comic book."

Mom gave me an approving look. "I'm glad you recognized that on your own."

"What do you think I should look for?"

"Oh...I don't know...You should have given me some time to think of something."

A fair criticism. "I guess I'll ask the librarian for a suggestion."

"Before you go, I want to apologize for forcing you to make your own dinner twice now..."

I raised my hand to stop Mom. "Mom, I'm eighteen. I should be able to make my own dinner. Should, as in it's a good thing for me to make my own dinner from time to time. I need to learn how to live on my own, because I may need to do that sometime soon." I dropped my hand. "The problem I see with Fridays is that Dad should be taking you out someplace fun instead of blowing his paycheck at a bar." I moved toward the door. "And that's not a problem you or I can fix."

I went outside, opened the garage, and got out my bike. Before I could ride off, Mom came out. "See if they have a Florence Nightingale biography. She's one of the founders of modern nursing. It'll give you an idea of how doctors and nurses used to practice medicine."

That sounded interesting. "I'll look to see if they have one."

Once I got to the library, I wandered around for a while before asking the librarian for her advice. She mentioned some possibilities, which I checked out. In the end, I chose a Florence Nightingale biography. As Mom said, it'd give me an idea of what medicine was like a hundred years ago. But also, I thought it'd be something that Mom and I could have pleasant discussions about.

While I was gone, I started feeling bad for criticizing Dad. As a son, that wasn't my place. When I got home, I showed Mom my book and said, "I'm curious about something. You told me some of the details of Dad dating Aunt Agnes. How did Dad go from dating her to marrying you?"

Mom smiled. "Well, your father and Aunt Agnes were in the same grade of high school. They started dating their senior year, and your dad would come over to our house regularly. Your grandfather would play the piano, and your dad would sing." Mom sighed. "I thought he was just like a movie star. He was so handsome and had such a great singing voice." Dad sang in the choir at church and occasionally sang in a barbershop quartet. He did have a great baritone singing voice. "I fell in love with him then, but, of course, I didn't act on it."

Mom had been standing. She sat down on the couch, and I sat down next to her.

"He and Aunt Agnes dated for a year," continued Mom. "Aunt Agnes says she dumped Dad. Your father says he broke up with her when he moved to Pine Creek for a better job." Pine Creek was a town ten times the size of ours thirty miles away. "Your father didn't like farm work and went to work there in the railroad machine shop."

I kind of knew all this but hadn't heard it laid out quite this way. "Back to Dad and Aunt Agnes. How serious had they been when they broke up?"

"According to Aunt Agnes, they were quite serious. According to your dad, he was dating her because she was the easiest girl in town."

I snickered at that. Mom joined in.

"When he moved to Pine Creek," added Mom. "Our family lost touch with him. Agnes didn't want him discussed in our household. She started dating Uncle Charlie. When I graduated from high school," - Mom graduated two years after Aunt Agnes did - "I moved to Pine Creek to become a teacher's assistant at their high school. I found out where the railroad machine shop was, and I started going over to that area to shop. One day, I ran into your father." Mom paused for a moment. "I fell back in love with him as soon as he began talking to me. We walked and talked for a half-hour, and your father asked me out." Mom let out a long, happy sigh. "I told him I'd have to have Agnes' approval before I could date him. The next weekend, I went home. As Agnes was engaged to Uncle Charlie at that point, she couldn't say no to me dating your father. I felt it'd be better for family harmony if I asked her before I dated your father. She had seemed so bitter about him after they broke up."

If she had let Dad suck on her boobs and later he told her that he had only been dating her because she was easy, then I could see why she'd be bitter about Dad.

"And after she gave her blessing for you and Dad to date?"

"We dated for a while. Unlike Agnes, I was not easy. After we had dated for six months, your father proposed. We decided to have a long engagement because your father wanted to be in the financial position to buy me a home once we married. But then..." Mom shook her head. "The stock market crashed. Your father and I got married with no idea the Depression was about to happen. Fortunately, your father had a job with the railroad, and it continued to run through Pine Creek. But so many other people lost their jobs. So many young men were forced to move away for CCC and WPA jobs. Grandpa and Uncle Charlie couldn't do that as they were married." Mom stopped to wipe a tear from her face. "I can't tell you how hopeless things seemed during the Depression. Grandpa, Grandma, Aunt Agnes, and Uncle Charlie all lived with us in our little house in Pine Creek as there was no work to be found here. Before you were born, your father and I decided we couldn't afford any more children, so I had my tubes tied after you were born. It was an absolutely awful time."

"But then the war happened, and the government opened a plant here that built tanks."

Mom nodded. "Your dad and Uncle Charlie got jobs at the new plant, and we all moved back. Rationing made life difficult, but didn't feel hopeless like it had during the Depression. When the war was over, the government stopped making tanks. The plant shut down, and, two weeks later, it reopened to make automotive parts. Dad and Uncle Charlie got their jobs back. The women who had worked to make tanks were let go, and soldiers coming home from the war were hired to take their place." Mom shrugged. "And that's how your father and I came to be married."

I stood up. "Thanks for telling me all that." I picked up the Florence Nightingale biography and headed to my room.

* * * *

This story was written by 8letters and published on Literotica

Tuesday, Mom and I had another date. Mom let me do my best, correcting me only when I stumbled. I tried very hard to keep Mom talking to me in her date-voice instead of her mom-voice.

We started much like the prior week, but when I sat down on the couch next to Mom, I said a line I had picked up from a Western last Saturday. "I've got the best seat in the house because I'm sitting next to the prettiest girl in the house."

Mom gave me a slightly strained smile. The line had felt like a poor fit for our situation, but I had least said it and now had a better feel for saying such a line.

Once we were on the couch, Mom removed her hat and gloves before saying she wanted to do things differently. "Variety is very important." After our first kissing session, we swapped sides of the couch. It felt more awkward that way, but I tried to make it work. We had two kissing sessions like that, and I slowly got used to it.

During the next commercial break, Mom had me put my back where the couch back and the couch arm meet, with my leg along the back of the couch. Mom sat down between my legs and leaned her back against me. I really liked this position as I could wrap Mom in my arms. I nibbled on her neck for a while, and then Mom turned and we kissed. As we kissed, my hand slowly moved up toward her breast. Mom blocked it with her arm. She whispered to me, "Your father is touching women's bottoms, not their breasts." I took that to mean her breasts were permanently off-limits.

For the conclusion of Mom's show, we moved to the same position we had been in at the end of our last date. Our passion had been steadily building all evening, and once again, we let it all out during our last session. Mom again twisted to make her bottom easily accessible. I was rougher with her bottom this time, squeezing it harder than I did before. Mom responded by pressing herself into me. I could feel her large breasts against my chest. Our tongues wrestled madly as our hands roamed all over each other. I grabbed Mom's bottom and pulled her harder against me. She broke off our kiss and raised her neck for me to kiss. I kissed it hard.

"No hickeys," Mom commanded.

I moved my mouth downward, kissing the exposed skin above her breasts. Mom ran both of her hands through my hair. I gave her bottom a soft spank. Mom responded by kissing me hard and ramming her tongue into my mouth. I grabbed both of her sides above her waist and pressed her breasts more firmly against me.

Before I could spank Mom's bottom again, the theme song for the show started playing. We both responded by moving apart and then flopping against the back of the couch. The normality of the ending of the show was a stark contrast to both of us panting hard with our unsatisfied passion. My dick was sticking straight out again. As casually as I could, I pushed it down while slowing my breathing.

Once we had regained our composure, I "walked Mom home". When we got to the hallway to the bedrooms, I said, "I had a wonderful time tonight. I'd love to take you on another date next week at the same time."

"I too had a wonderful time." Mom gave me a dazzling smile. "There's nothing I'd like better than going out with you again next week."

* * * *

Friday, I was surprised to see Mom when I got home from school. She had said the night before that she was going over to the Andersons'. As I got in the door, Mom held up an envelope. The way she held it up, I could clearly see the Northwestern logo in the upper left corner.

"This came in the mail today."

I walked quickly over to Mom. "And you didn't open it?"

"It's addressed to you."

Once I got close to Mom, she handed me the envelope. I opened it and pulled out the letter inside. Mom closed her eyes and crossed both of her fingers as I began reading.

"I've been accepted."

Mom's hands shot up into the air. "YES! That's so wonderful!" Mom gave me a big hug. "I'm so proud of you, Jack. So, so proud of you." Mom released me and went to pick up her purse. "I'm off to the Andersons'. I'll tell them as soon as I get there." Mom gave me a peck on the cheek. "I'm so, so proud of you."

I felt like I was drifting on a cloud all evening. I realized that before, despite talking about it so much, I had always considered going to Northwestern a mere possibility. But now, it was going to happen - this Fall, I'd move to Chicago and attend classes at Northwestern. I couldn't picture it happening; I had no idea of what Northwestern looked like. But I knew it was going to happen.

When Dad came home, I showed him the letter.

"That's great news. I'm proud of you, Son." Dad shook my hand. "Now to see what's in the icebox. Hopefully, there's something good I can reheat." As Dad walked toward the kitchen, I followed along. I hadn't expected him to be as excited as Mom about my being accepted to Northwestern, but I expected more excitement than this.

Dad opened the door to the fridge. "I can't believe your mom is making me rustle up my own dinner."

"As you always came home late on Friday night, you always had to heat up your dinner."

"Yes, but she'd make something for dinner on Fridays that reheated well. Turn the oven on, will you?" As Dad looked at every Tupperware container in the fridge, I turned the oven on to 300. "Her going to Ethel's house to watch TV is total nonsense. She and I need to have a talk about it."

"Well, Dad, if you bought a TV, Mom wouldn't go to the Andersons'."

Dad pulled a Tupperware container from the fridge. "Shut up about that. We don't have the money to buy a TV. Not with you going to Northwestern now."

My stomach fell. I knew what Dad said was true. "Well, I'll work every summer."

Dad snorted as he dumped the leftovers onto a baking pan. "Not nearly enough." Dad put the pan into the oven. "But don't you worry about it. It's your mom's dream that you go to Northwestern, so you'll go to Northwestern." Dad turned his back on me to get out his silverware. I decided to beat a hasty retreat.

"I'm going to go read for a while in my room and then go to sleep."

"Goodnight, Son."

"Goodnight, Dad."

* * * *

Saturday morning, Mom made Dad and me breakfast like she did every morning. Once it was nine, Mom started calling people to tell them that I had been accepted at Northwestern and how proud she was of me. I gave Mom a big smile as I headed off to the theater.

Sunday, Mr. Culp, the owner of the only insurance agency in town, came up to me after church. He shook my hand and said, "I hear you've been accepted to Northwestern."

"Yes, Mr. Culp. I'm excited about going there."

Mr. Culp patted me on the shoulder. "Wonderful news. I'm sure you'll do very well there." He leaned forward a bit. "Do you have a job for the summer lined up yet?"

I was a little surprised by the question. "No. Dad will probably get me a job working at the plant."

"Well, how about you work at my office instead?" He gave me a gracious smile. "I need someone to cover when my girls take their vacations. What I sell is trust, and I feel people will be more likely to trust someone who's going to Northwestern to correctly answer their simpler questions about their insurance policies. I'll pay you a dollar an hour."

"A dollar? Golly! That sounds great, Mr. Culp." A dollar was twenty-five cents more than the minimum wage and more than the plant paid their summer workers. "Most certainly I'd like to work for you."

"Wonderful." We shook hands on it. "Come to my office when it opens the Monday after you graduate."

I found Mom and told her the news. "That's great!" she said as she gave me a quick hug. "One more thing for me to be proud of you about."

* * * *

Monday after dinner, I told Mom I was going to the library to return the finished Florence Nightingale biography and asked her what book I should check out.

"I went to the library earlier this week. I'd recommend," and she named a book on important discoveries in Organic Chemistry.

"I'll give it a look."

I went to the library, hung out for a while, checked out the book Mom recommended, and headed home.

* * * *

Tuesday after Dad left, Mom said to me, "I'm just so proud of you, Jack, that I could burst."

I laughed. I had no doubt that Mom was very, very proud of me. "I'm glad I've made you proud, Mom. I'm still mildly in disbelief that I'm going to go to Northwestern. But I'm really excited about it."

"And I'm excited about it too." Mom gave me a sly look as she took a bite. "I'm going to do something special for you tonight. I'll let you pick what dress I'm going to wear."

"Oh, okay." I was surprised by Mom's proposal. I pictured some of Mom's dresses. "You have so many nice dresses, Mom."

"I'll have you pick between two. When I call out to you, come into my bedroom. Okay?"

"Sure, Mom."

Mom finished her dinner and went off to her bedroom. I cleared the dishes and started washing them. After a while, I heard Mom call, "Jack! Come here!" I dried my hands and made my way to Mom and Dad's bedroom. I swung open the door, took a few steps in, and then my jaw dropped.

"Which dress would you like me to wear?" asked Mom as she held up two dresses.

I had no eyes for the dresses. Mom was standing there in her undergarments, posing sexily as she held up the two dresses. She was wearing a white bra that shaped her breasts into two large cones with rounded points. To me, they somewhat resembled the artillery shells I had seen in comic books. I was absolutely stunned by Mom's beauty.

"Which one?" Mom asked teasingly. She swiveled, bringing her right hand forward. "The royal blue one?" As she did so, she thrust out her chest, making her breasts bounce slightly within their confines. My mind almost exploded.

Below the bra, Mom was wearing a sheer white slip that ran from her waist to below her knee. It emphasized Mom's small waist and full hips.

Mom swiveled again, pulling back the first dress and bringing forward another. "Or this pink one?" She gave me a saucy grin. She knew she was giving me heart palpations.

Beneath Mom's slip, I could barely make out her girdle. Below the girdle were garter belts that were holding up Mom's dark tan stockings. It was a heavenly vision.

Mom pulled back the pink dress. "Oh, you're just like your father." Mom turned around, bringing her backside into view. "He's never any help in my deciding what to wear." Mom bent forward to put both dresses onto the bed. As she did so, she wiggled her hips, showing off her marvelous bottom that was wrapped in the sheer slip.

I finally started breathing again. "The pink one, Mom."

Mom grabbed the pink one and held it up in front of her. She had it slightly folded over her arm so I'd have an unobstructed view of her bra. "You prefer me in pink?"

My lungs felt several sizes too small. I was taking only shallow breaths. The vision of Mom's beauty was overwhelming to me. "I like you in pink. You're so feminine, Mom. Pink really suits you."
Mom smiled and stuck out a hand. As she waved her fingers at me in a shooing motion, she said, "Go back and finish the dishes."

* * * *

I had the picture of Mom in her bra and slip in my head the whole time I washed the dishes. My dick was already hard, and the date hadn't started yet.

Five minutes before the detective show began, I went to the hallway and called out to Mom. Mom came walking toward me in her pink dress, with a white hat, pink gloves, pink shoes, and a white belt that emphasized her small waist. As she walked toward me, I said, "Tonight, you're a lovely vision in pink." That was similar to a line in a movie I saw Saturday.

"Oh, thank you, Jack. You'll make a girl's head swell."

I took Mom's gloved hand. "I hope your head doesn't swell. It's perfect as it is now." Mom gave me a shy smile at that. I felt like I had landed those two lines fairly well.

We moved away from the hallway, doing our "traveling" to the couch. "Lovely night tonight," I said. "Though not nearly as lovely as you."

Mom blushed a little bit. "It is a lovely night."

I looked at Mom, and I kept picturing the bra and slip underneath her dress. How each must look as Mom moved about the living room with me.

"Now, no speeding tonight," said Mom. "I don't want to reach our destination too quickly."

I guessed Mom had noticed how I was looking at her and was concerned I might push things on the couch. "A little speeding won't hurt, will it? Just a few miles over the speed limit."

"Well...just a little bit faster would be fine. But no hot rodding, understood?"

"Understood. It's all about enjoying the trip together. You don't want me to scare you with erratic behavior."

"Yes." Mom sat down on the couch and released my hand. "You are quite the gentleman."

I moved over to the radio. "Thank you, milady."

I turned on the radio and the theme song for the detective show was playing. I walked slowly toward the couch, standing as tall as possible while holding up my chest to strike the most handsome figure I could. Mom had already removed her hat and gloves. I sat down on the couch next to Mom, wrapping my arm around her. I pulled her to me for a kiss, not waiting for the actors' dialog to start. Mom stiffened slightly when I first kissed her, but quickly relaxed. I put my right hand on the side of her waist and softly ran my fingers lightly along her dress. After a few kisses, I moved away from her lips and kissed her neck. I kept the touch with my right hand light, looking to gently stimulate her skin. I continued to move my kisses and my hand around. When Mom wasn't kissing me, she moaned lightly. She seemed to be heating up fast tonight. Perhaps she too was excited from my seeing her earlier?

At the first commercial break, we stopped kissing to discuss the show. After we each said a few sentences, I gave Mom a kiss before saying some more about the show. I slipped another kiss into our discussion and then began kissing Mom in earnest once the Detective started talking again.

As we kissed, I moved my hand forward and down toward Mom's bottom. I had never touched Mom's bottom this early before and was concerned Mom might consider this going too fast, but as my hand got close to her bottom, Mom twisted to give me better access. We kissed hotly for a few minutes as I squeezed and rubbed Mom's bottom. I then pushed my tongue against Mom's lip, and she welcomed it into her mouth. Our tongues battled with each other until the next commercial break.

At the sound of the announcer's voice, Mom stood up. While she did that, I quickly arranged my hard dick so it wouldn't be so obvious. Mom said, "Let's have you sit in the corner of the couch again."

Once again, I put my back where the couch back and the couch arm meet and put my leg along the back of the couch, and Mom once again sat down between my legs and leaned her back against me. I nibbled on her shoulder lightly as she shared her thoughts on the latest developments in the show. I kept up my end of the conversation but went back to nibbling when I stopped talking. When the actors resumed the story, I twisted Mom slightly so we could kiss. This time, I kept my hands well away from Mom's bust, instead groping her bottom with one hand while rubbing her stomach with the other.

During the next commercial break, Mom had me sit to her right, so I'd have to use my left hand when we kissed. Again, I stole little kisses while we discussed what we thought of the latest revelations. We were both more flushed and breathing harder than usual. Once the show started, I decided to try something daring. I slipped my left hand under Mom's dress and put it on her calf. I waited for Mom to swat my hand away, but she didn't. For the first time, I felt Mom's nylons. They felt very different than her skin or dress; not as pleasant. Still, touching them excited me immensely. This was brand new territory for me, having never touched a girl's leg before. I kept my touches soft, using just one or two fingers. I kept my hand below her knee. I felt that was a far enough advance for the night.

For our next to last session, Mom had me put my hand behind her head again. Did having me run my fingers through her hair excite her? Or did she want it as a lull before we got hot and serious in our final session? I did my best to make it enjoyable for Mom, paying attention to how she responded to every way I touched her.

And then it was the commercial break before the last part of the show. I was breathing hard, both from what we had done and in expectation of what we'd do.

"Lie down on the couch," Mom said, "Sort of how I had you lie before, but less upright this time."

Mom discussed the show with me until I moved into the exact position she wanted. Without waiting for the actors to restart, Mom threw herself on me. She moved so she was horizontal while facing toward me, partially on the couch and partially on me. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her to me for a kiss. Both of my hands went to her bottom and each grabbed a big handful. Mom rammed her tongue into my mouth and pressed her breasts against my chest. We kissed frantically while rocking back and forth on the couch. My hard dick pressed into Mom as she slithered back and forth over me. I gave Mom's bottom a hard spank, the sound of the slap loud in the empty house. Mom pressed herself more firmly against me and dropped her mouth to kiss me on the neck. She had never kissed me anyplace but the lips before. It felt like my blood was boiling as the action between Mom and me got hotter and hotter.

When the theme song started playing, I tried to keep kissing Mom, but she pushed herself away. Once again, my dick made a large tent in the front of my pants. Mom couldn't have missed it as she moved to a sitting position on the other side of the couch. As soon as she got into a sitting position, she stood up and began adjusting her clothes. I sat up more slowly, moved my dick to a less obvious position and stood up. I handed Mom her hat and gloves. To my surprise, she didn't put them back on. Instead, she held the hat in one hand while taking my right hand in her other.

"Let's go to your room," said Mom in her mom-voice. "I want to talk to you about Northwestern." Mom started walking and I followed along while holding her hand. Why didn't we finish the date? I wondered. What was so vital that it had to be discussed now? Was I in trouble?

In my room, Mom indicated that I should sit on the bed. She got my chair from my desk and sat down in front of me. She leaned forward, putting her hands on my legs just above my knees.

"I'm proud of you, Jack. Very, very proud of you."

I wasn't surprised to hear this, but didn't understand why Mom had to tell this to me in my bedroom at this very instant.

"I'm very, very proud of you for being accepted at Northwestern," continued Mom. "But I'm also very proud of the man you're becoming." I hadn't expected this. "You've learned so much since I started giving you lessons. You've listened to me and really taken my advice to heart. You're so much more confident. You've learned the right things to say and how to say them. You're learning how to act when you're with a girl; how to give her a lot of pleasure while staying within her boundaries. And I'm proud of how you've kept everything we've done a secret and have followed all the rules I've set down for you. I feel safe giving you these lessons because you've accepted that when a lesson is over, we are back to being mom and son." Mom asked coquettishly, "Did you enjoy the little show I gave you before our date?"

"Yes, Mom." Mom's question seemed to come out of left field and scrambled my thoughts. I struggled to put together a fuller response. "It was...you looked amazing. You're so beautiful."

Mom smiled. "Thank you, Jack. Did you find it exciting?"

"Yes. Oh, yes."

"The reason I felt comfortable giving you that show was because of how good you've been. You'll never tell anyone about that, right?"

"Right. I'll never say a word about it."

Mom slid her hands up my legs a few inches. "Would you like for me to give you a show before each of our dates?"

"Yes."

"Back to you going to Northwestern. When you get there, you'll find a girl to date." Mom slid her hands down my legs. "And you're going to melt her heart. As long as you go slow like you've done with me, she's going to let you do more and more with her." She pushed her hands back up my legs, squeezing them lightly. "And you'll start having the desires boys have for girls. Those desires are a good thing. Without them, the human race would die out." Mom slowly pulled her hands down my legs again. "But those desires are a very dangerous thing. I can tell you're having those desires for me during our lessons." Mom began sliding her hands up my legs again. "You can't touch me, Jack. I'm your mother, and you can't touch me. Only your father can touch me. Do you promise to not touch me?"

This was...not weird. Not awkward. It was unexpected, it was exciting, and I wasn't sure where it was going.

"I promise."

"Good." Mom moved her hands even further up my legs while leaning more forward. "And you promise to never tell anyone about what we do?"

"I promise."

Mom brought her hand to my crotch and placed it on my hard dick. "This is uncomfortable for you. I used to make your father very uncomfortable on our dates." She gave my dick a small squeeze. I could feel my eyes bug out in shock. "He'd be almost in pain at the end of some of them." Mom slid her hand up my hard dick. "Now, there are several ways a girl can solve the problem she gives her boyfriend on dates." Mom grabbed the top of my pants in front and pulled on them. "Let me show you some of them."

Mom kept pulling on my pants, so I stood up. Mom undid my belt, unzipped my pants and pulled them down. I was shocked by this, but naturally let Mom do what she wanted to do. Mom pulled down my underwear. She pulled my pants and underwear all the way down until they were wrapped around my ankles. She then pushed me lightly, and I fell back onto my bed. Mom scooted her chair a bit closer to me and grabbed my hard dick with her hand.

"A girl can do this," said Mom as she slid her hand slowly up my dick with her fingers curled around it. "Your father talked me into doing this after we had been dating for a long time." The feeling of Mom's hand on my dick was amazing. I had stroked my dick many times, but it had never felt as good as it did now. "I used some lotion with your father to make it more enjoyable for him. I'd slide my hand up and down him until he exploded." Mom did a couple more long, slow strokes up and down my dick as if to demonstrate. Then she grabbed the top of my dick just below its crown with her left hand and dropped her right hand down to my balls. "But after doing that a few times, he wanted more."

Mom tickled my balls. She give me a flirty grin and asked, "Like that?"

Tingles shot out from my balls to fill my whole body. "Oh, yes."

A look of delight filled Mom's face. She gave my dick a hard squeeze with her left hand. "Don't explode on me until I've finished this lesson." Mom brought her right hand up to my dick and slowly slid her hand up it. "Another way a girl can solve this problem is to let her boyfriend put a condom on his friend here and stick it in her." Mom had been watching her hands, but now she looked me in the eye. She stopped stroking my dick and just held it gently. "Don't do that. Unless you want to marry the girl, don't do that. Too many times, the girl gets pregnant even though he used a condom." Mom dropped her eyes back to her hand and resumed sliding it down my dick. "There are lots of girls in Chicago who want to marry a Northwestern man. They'll be willing to take the risk of getting pregnant. Getting pregnant would be a good thing for them, as their Northwestern man will marry her." Mom looked me in the eye again, but this time continued stroking my dick. "You understand now why you shouldn't stick this into your girlfriend?"

The pleasure was getting bigger and bigger. I wasn't that far from exploding. "Yes."

"Good." Mom nodded. "Now, let me show you what you should have your girlfriend do to solve this problem."

Mom leaned more forward. She lowered her head while grasping my dick firmly at its base. I was stunned. Was Mom really going to...? Mom slipped out of the chair and dropped to her knees while puckering her mouth as if she was about to give the top of my dick a kiss. When Mom's lips touched my dick, she slid them down it, taking its whole head into her mouth. I let out a moan as pleasure swept over me. Mom pulled her lips back up my dick until her lips were off it. She gave its head a small lick before sliding her lips down it again. Mom did several quick bobs while sucking on my dick. It felt so amazing. Nothing had ever felt this good before. I laid down on my bed so I could relax and focus purely on the pleasure Mom was giving me. Mom raised her head off my dick, dropped it down lower, and gave my dick a lick while holding it firmly at the base.

"Once your father proposed to me, I started doing this for him." Mom gave my dick another long lick. "I've always enjoyed doing this, and do it now for him when it's that time of the month." She gave my dick a kiss at its base and slowly kissed her way upwards. "Many women find the idea of doing this disgusting, but I'd think they'd enjoy it if they gave it a try."

Once again, Mom slid my dick into her mouth while holding it firmly at its base with her hand. This time as she slid her mouth down, she slid her hand up. She pumped the lower half of my dick while sucking on the upper half. I was in heaven. I had never imagined anything could feel so good.

When I began to feel close to exploding, Mom stopped sucking my dick and returned to giving it kisses. "When you get to Northwestern, teach your girlfriends to do this to solve the problem they give you. There's no chance of them getting pregnant this way." Mom licked down to the base of my dick. "You'll probably have to give them very detailed instructions at first. But with practice, they'll learn." Mom opened her mouth and from the side took most of my dick in her mouth. She danced her tongue on the side of my dick that was in her mouth as she slowly slid her mouth up the length of my dick.

"Time to finish this," said Mom. "Don't hold back." She swallowed my dick again and bobbed her head up and down quickly on it. At the same time, she pumped her hand up and down the lower half of my dick. The pleasure was so intense. It quickly got too intense, and I felt myself explode. I began shooting babyjuice into Mom's mouth. Mom slowed her bobbing, but didn't stop it as she sucked down my babyjuice. This was perfection. This was what my body was made to experience.

Mom continued sucking my dick until she completely drained me. Once she did, she slid my dick out of her mouth with a loud, wet pop. She grabbed my hands and pulled me back into a sitting position while standing up. She gave me a kiss on my forehead. "I'm so proud of you, Jack."

Mom straightened her clothes quickly and began to leave the room. At my door, she turned and said, "Don't forget the dishes."

* * * *

From then on, our Tuesday evenings followed the same pattern as that night. After dinner, Mom would go to her bedroom while I started on the dishes. The one big change was that Mom had me come to her bedroom after I put the first set of dishes into the wash water to soak to tell her which dress I wanted her to wear. It was never about the dress; it was always about Mom showing off how she looked in her undergarments. I'd go back to the dishes and wash them until it was almost time for Mom's show. I'd then go "to pick her up" and we'd "journey" together to the couch. We'd make out during the performance parts (slowly at first) and talk about the show during the breaks. We'd always change positions after each break. Mom would let me slide my hand under her dress during the make-outs in the middle, but my hand always had to stay on her nylons. The final make-out session was always frantic and passionate. Once the show was over, we'd stand up, straighten ourselves, and "journey together" back to the hallway to the bedrooms. Mom would ask me to "come inside for a few minutes." We'd go into my bedroom, and Mom would "teach me how to have my girlfriend solve the problem she gave me". Mom would go to her bedroom, and I'd go finish the dishes.

I thought a lot about our date nights. It was clear to me that Mom enjoyed them. She enjoyed getting dressed up; she enjoyed making out on the couch; and she enjoyed sucking my dick. She'd always wrap our date nights with a few words about how she was giving me lessons, and I did learn a whole lot, but, after a while, we kept going even though Mom wasn't teaching me anything new. It was merely an excuse to justify doing what she wanted. However, when I tried suggesting we could "listen to a radio show together" when Dad was at poker night and when he was at the bar with his co-workers, Mom wasn't interested. Whenever I tried to do more during our date nights, Mom would stop me. She had decided how far she was willing to go and always kept things within those boundaries.

What we'd do was settled, but it still left me with many questions, none of which I felt I could ask Mom. How long would this go on? All the way to the end of the summer? And then? Would Mom visit me at college? Maybe she'd leave Dad, move to Chicago and we'd rent an apartment together? And then we'd live as man and wife? Date nights with Mom were wonderful, and I didn't want them to end.

Time marched on until it was the week of graduation. All my aunts and uncles came into town to see me graduate. It had taken quite of effort by Mom to find places in town for them all to stay for the weekend. Mom's brother Hank and his wife Aunt Flo were going to stay in my bedroom, and their two kids and I were going to sleep on the floor of Mom's crafting room. Joan wasn't there as she had gone to California to take a class for the summer. She was the only cousin to not see me graduate.

Graduation was...I don't know. Surreal? Anticlimactic? Overwhelming? The graduation happened in the school gym. Once again, our teachers bossed us around, lining us up in order and telling us to behave in line. Then at the right time, we marched into the gym and took our seats. The Principal gave a short speech and the Valedictorian gave a short speech. I was the Salutatorian, and I gave a short speech about what high school meant to me. It sounded vague and boring even to me. And then we one-by-one marched across the stage to get our diplomas. My family gave me a big cheer as I got mine. After more waiting and talking, it was over. I was a high school graduate. That chapter of my life was over.
Once the ceremony was over, it was time for pictures. I took pictures with my best friends who had graduated. I took pictures with my family. Lots and lots of pictures with my family. Each family group wanted a picture with me. And a picture of them with me, my mom and my dad. And a picture of them with me, my brother Bob, Mom and Dad. All of the pictures wore me down. I just wanted to get out of the cap and gown, go home, and hole up in my room for a while, but I knew that wasn't going to happen.

Once my family had taken all the pictures they wanted, I did go to change out of my cap and gown, and I did go home. But I couldn't hole up in my room as my parents were hosting a big party for me. Not only was my family there, but also friends of my parents. Everyone was standing in small groups, and most of them were smoking cigarettes. Dad cooked up hot dogs and hamburgers for everyone while drinking beers. Mom guided me around the backyard, taking me from group to group. All the groups told me they were proud of me and were especially proud that I was going to Northwestern. Mom beamed every time someone mentioned Northwestern. I had the feeling that everyone liked that I was one-upping Aunt Agnes' family. Aunt Agnes, from what I could tell from the glimpses I had of her, seemed to get more and more sour as the rest of the family praised me.

When the food was ready, everyone sat down for dinner. Dad had borrowed folding tables from all over and had them set up along the edges of our backyard. After dinner, people both stood and stayed seated. Mom and I continued circulating among the groups. People told me stories about Chicago. My cousin George told me stories about his experiences at Ohio State. Everyone told lots of family stories. Almost all the adults were smoking, including Dad. About half of the cousins were smoking, including Bob. Mom had quit smoking a few months ago, I think as part of her campaign to get a TV. I didn't smoke and didn't care for cigarette smoke. After a while, I couldn't take it anymore. I excused myself to go inside to go to the bathroom. Once I peed, I went into the kitchen and got out some ice cream. The container was half full, and I decided to eat it all. In case someone came in looking for me, I sat down on the kitchen floor in an out-of-the-way spot. I really needed some time alone.

As I was getting close to finishing the ice cream, I heard Mom and Aunt Agnes come into the house. "Where is that son of yours?" Aunt Agnes asked in an irritated tone.

"Some quiet place," Mom answered placidly. It sounded like they were headed for the kitchen. I tucked in my knees and did my best to hide. "You know he's not much of a talker. I'm letting him take a break. In a while, I'll get him back out there."

"Well, Frank is doing lots of talking," said Aunt Agnes as she and Mom entered the kitchen. Dad had been happily talking with everyone once he stopped cooking. Mom and Aunt Agnes made a beeline to the refrigerator. "Beer does that to him. He'll be slurring his speech pretty soon."

Mom opened the refrigerator door. "He's having a good time," Mom said icily. "Everyone is having a good time."

"He's getting drunk, just like always does."

Mom pulled out a big bowl filled with something. I felt like Mom had seen me as she took the bowl over to a part of the kitchen where my hiding spot wasn't visible.

"Everybody in town knows that every Saturday night," said Aunt Agnes in an acid tone, "you and Frank go to someone's house, he gets drunk, and you have to drive the two of you home."

Mom took the saran wrap off the bowl. "It's none of your business what Frank and I do on Saturday nights." She said that with a hint of anger, like she was trying to keep her temper under control.

"When you asked me if you could date Frank, I told you that because of his drinking, he'd never amount to anything. That's why I broke up with him."

"He broke up with you when he moved to Pine Creek for a better job," Mom said with a hint of superiority.

"I broke up with him, and then he decided to move to Pine Creek."

"He broke up with you when he moved to Pine Creek for a better job," Mom said in a slightly raised voice. "Initially, you were crushed when he broke with you, and then your love for him turned to hate. Which is why I felt I had to ask you for your blessing to date Frank. Don't try to lie to me."

I felt like all the bad blood between Mom and Aunt Agnes was gushing out. "I don't remember it that way. I distinctly remember breaking up with him. And good riddance."

"During the depression, he let you stay in his house, and he fed your family," Mom said in a raised voice. "Your glorious Charlie wasn't earning a dime. He tried to pay for his rent by fixing up the house, but he was so bad at it that he wound up being a gopher for Dad while Dad did all the work on Charlie's projects."

"Charlie isn't great with his hands," said Aunt Agnes in a louder voice, "But he's smarter and harder-working than Frank. Which is why he's a supervisor at the plant and not a line worker like Frank."

"Out of my house!" yelled Mom. "You, Charlie and George get out, right now!"

I heard Aunt Agnes stomp out of the kitchen. I heard Mom finish with the bowl and follow her out. I had lost my appetite, so I put the ice cream away and headed toward the backyard. When I opened the door, Aunt Agnes, Uncle Charlie and my cousin George came into the kitchen.

"Never in my life have I seen such rudeness," muttered Aunt Agnes to Uncle Charlie as they ignored me. I followed them to the front door. I took the door from George and held it open as he followed his parents out the door.

As they were a few steps down our walk, I called out, "Bye! Thanks for coming!"

They ignored me.

I eventually made my way to the backyard. Everything was in an uproar. Aunt Flo was standing up. "Let's get out of here, Hank. We'll go to Agnes', where people are treated properly." Aunt Flo and Aunt Agnes were close, so I wasn't surprised by her statement.

Uncle Hank stood up. He and Dad got along well, much better than he got along with Aunt Agnes, which was why Dad had invited them to stay with us. He made a what-can-you-do gesture. "Okay, Honey."

"Let's get our stuff first. We'll be staying at Agnes' tonight."

Aunt Agnes had wanted Aunt Flo to stay with her, but Dad had already asked Uncle Hank to stay with us. Aunt Agnes had been miffed and refused to have anyone else stay in her house, so she had space for Uncle Hank and his family there.

I went to the house and opened the door for Aunt Flo, their two kids and Uncle Hank. I walked with them to the front door. Uncle Hank said, "Congratulations again, Jack. And don't worry about Agnes. She'll be back. She'll have some news about Joan or George that she'll want to lord over your parents."

Aunt Flo gave Uncle Hank a glare. I cut it short by shaking her hand. "Thanks for coming." I shook hands with their kids and Uncle Hank as they filed out the door.

When I returned to the backyard, the good mood of the party was gone. I began going to each group to talk for a short while in an attempt to restore it. Mom and Dad did the same. But Dad wasn't doing a good job at it. Sadly, Aunt Agnes had been right about one thing - Dad was now slurring his speech. I had never seen Dad drunk before, but I had never seen him host a party before. It might have been more acceptable for Dad to get drunk if other people were getting drunk, but no one was. I could see people making unhappy faces as they watched him stagger from one group to another. People started leaving. I took it upon myself to escort them out, as Dad couldn't do it and Mom seemed to want to stay in the backyard to keep an eye on him and the rest of the guests.

Finally, Mom said to Dad, "I think it's time you go to bed."

"What? No. I'm fine," said Dad as he staggered around.

Mom grabbed Dad by the arm and moved him toward the house. Dad complained that he was fine the whole trip to the door to the house. Mom and Dad went inside. Ten minutes later, Mom came back out. Her return seemed to trigger the final exodus. Together, we escorted everyone to our front door, thanked them for coming, and wished them a safe drive.

Once the last guest was gone, Mom and I did a minimal amount of cleaning outside. It had been dark for hours now and there wasn't much light in the backyard, so we couldn't really see what we were doing.

I asked Mom, "How's Dad?"

"He's fine. He's drunk that much many times. He's out cold now and will sleep it off." Mom grabbed some more trash off a table. "I think that's enough for tonight."

We walked toward the house. I was feeling introspective. I said, "I feel like I've crossed over a line today. I'm no more a high school student. But just as important, I thought I maturely handled the party blowing up after your fight with Aunt Agnes and Dad getting drunk. I'm an adult now."

Mom sighed loudly. "I'm sorry about my fight with Aunt Agnes. I shouldn't have fought with her on your big day. I probably wouldn't have if I wasn't so angry with your father for drinking so much. I lost my temper and ruined your party."

"Don't worry about it, Mom. Did you know I was in the kitchen?"

"Yes. Which was one of the reasons I fought back with Aunt Agnes. Your father isn't perfect, but he is a good man who has been a good husband to me and a good father to you. I wasn't about to quietly accept Aunt Agnes badmouthing him in his own house in front of his child. I'm sorry both your father and I ruined your big day."

"It wasn't ruined. I had had enough and was fine with the party ending when it did. It actually felt good saying goodbye to everyone, being the man of the house at the end of my big day."

By this time, Mom and I had thrown all the trash into the garbage and were now in front of my bedroom. Mom said, "You were the man of the house," and gave me a kiss on the lips.

I smiled at her, said "Goodnight, Mom," and went into my bedroom.

* * * *

I was wound up from the day, so it took me longer than normal to fall asleep. As I was almost dropping off, I heard the door to my room open. I immediately woke up. I sat up and watched Mom make her way to my bed. She was wearing a nightgown that came down about halfway between her knees and her ankles. With the low light, I couldn't tell much about it, but I'd guess that it was pink cotton. I had never seen Mom wearing a nightgown before.

"I can't sleep," Mom said as she sat down on my bed. "I'm still angry at your father, and his snoring isn't helping with that."

I didn't know how to respond to that, so I said nothing. It was warm in the house, so I was wearing just pajama pants. Mom's nightgown must have been very thin as I could vaguely make out the brown circles on her breasts.

Mom said, "I've been thinking about what you said," as she grabbed my hand below my wrist. "About how you felt like you became an adult today, and how you felt like you were the man of the house after your dad laid down." She raised my hand up and stroked the back of it. "And you were the man of the house at the end of the party. That the man of the house gets certain privileges." Mom lifted her nightgown up and tossed it over my hand. "Like this," she said as she placed my hand on her breast.

I was filled with wonder as I squeezed Mom's breast. It felt so good in my hand. So large, and so soft. Mom grabbed my other hand and brought it to her other breast. I squeezed both, feeling Mom's hard nipples poking into my palms.

"You are never to tell anyone about tonight. Understood?"

"Yes, Mom."

As I continued to move my hands slowly around her breasts, stopping for the occasional squeeze, Mom closed her eyes and arched her back.

"I'm so proud of you, Jack. You made it into Northwestern. You've become so mature. I wish your father would have acted as mature as you did tonight."

Mom grabbed her nightgown by the hem, lifted it up and tossed it aside. I took my hands away from her breasts so I could see them clearly.

"You like?" asked Mom.

I nodded my head and then moved my hands back toward them.

"I know you've wanted to touch them," said Mom as I cupped her breasts once again. I squeezed them again, and Mom let out a low moan. "And I wanted you to touch them, but I was afraid it would turn out badly. That you wouldn't be able to keep your hands off me. That you'd give away to your father what we were doing. But I trust you now because you're an adult."

"You're so beautiful, Mom."

"That's sweet of you to say."

"I mean it, Mom. Every Tuesday, I've admired how beautiful you are. And you are more beautiful now."

Mom smiled. "Flattery will get you everywhere." She leaned forward and grabbed my pajamas by their waistband and started pulling them down. I raised my butt so she could pull them down below my crotch. As she pulled them down, my hard dick popped out. I hoped she'd suck my dick again. That would be a great reward for the man of the house.

I saw Mom's bare bottom as she twisted to keep pulling down my pajama pants. For the first time, I realized that she was naked. Did she have much more in mind besides letting me feel her breasts and sucking my dick?

Once my pants were off me, Mom straddled my stomach. I reached up and put my hands on her breasts once again. "Is this what you've been wanting?" asked Mom as she leaned forward a little bit. "To get your hands on my bare breasts like this?"

"Yes, Mom."

"Is touching them everything you'd wish it'd be?"

"Better. I'd hope that you'd let me touch them through your dress. I had never imagined you'd let me touch you naked like this."

Mom arched her back. "Oooh. That feels good. I like to be touched. Your father doesn't touch me enough nowadays. He's all about me fulfilling my wifely responsibilities. He doesn't think about making it good for me."

"I want to make it good for you, Mom."

Mom leaned over me and smiled. "Okay. Not a word to anyone ever. All right?"

"All right."

"Hold your position and don't squirt. Wait until I tell you to." She moved her crotch back a bit while guiding my dick with her hand. She then pressed her womanhood down on my dick so that it covered the top of it. "Hold me by the waist."

I grabbed Mom above the waist on each side of her body. She began grinding her womanhood on my dick. "Oh, yeah. Just like that. Hold me just like that." Mom panted several times. "Let me do all the work." Mom slid her womanhood upwards along my dick and slid it back down. "Wait!" she said as a reminder for me to not squirt. She made a small circle with her hips as she slid herself forward. While she did that, she played with her nipples. Mom proceeded to keep rubbing her womanhood against my dick in different ways, sometimes playing with her tits and sometimes not. I got the idea that she was experimenting; that this was not something she had ever done with Dad and was trying out different ways to do it with me. She regularly warned me to wait.

Mom then collapsed on my chest. She raised her head up and asked, "Are you ready to be a man? My Northwestern Man? The way you handled yourself at the end of the party made you an adult. I'm going to make you a man." She sat up and then raised herself off me about a foot. She grabbed my dick and slowly lowered herself. The head of my dick touched her womanhood. Mom kept lowering herself, and my dick began sliding into her. Mom's womanhood was like nothing I had ever felt before. It was tight, slick and hot. It felt like my dick was sliding into heaven. Mom lowered herself until I felt the weight of her crotch pressed against mine. My dick was all the way inside Mom!

"That feels so nice," said Mom. "Not a word to anyone ever. Remember?"

"I'll remember."

"And don't do this with your girlfriends. Even if you have a condom. Too great of a risk of you getting them pregnant. I've seen too many couples get married because she was pregnant. And you don't have to worry about squirting inside me as my tubes are tied."

"Okay."

We stayed that way for a while. I had no idea of what to do next, and Mom seemed content as things were. Finally, she said, "Let me do all the work. I'm making you a man. And you don't have to wait anymore. Don't hold back." With that, Mom leaned forward and put her hands on each side of my chest a little below my shoulders. She then moved herself forward, pulling herself off my dick. Just before I slipped out, she moved backward, and my dick plunged into her slick warmth.

Mom fucked me slowly. I wanted to slam my dick into her as fast as I could, but I let her do everything. It felt so good. As she fucked me, her breasts would swing forward as she moved up me and back as she impaled herself. Watching her breasts was mesmerizing. The whole experience was magical. Mom sucking my dick was great, but this was a thousand times better. This was my wildest dream coming true.

Mom suddenly stopped with my dick fully embedded inside her. "Enjoying this?" she asked in an amused tone.

"It's amazing, Mom. The best thing ever."

"It feels really good for me. I'm stopping to try to get you to last. Longer is better for a woman. It's not like when I'm doing you with my mouth. Then, I want it over as fast as possible as that is work. This is fun for me and for you."

Mom resumed fucking me. I asked, "Can I grab your bottom?"

Mom gave me a half-smile. "Sure."

I grabbed Mom's bottom and squeezed it as I helped her maintain her motion.

"Let me set the speed," said Mom.

I continued gripping Mom's bottom, but not firmly. I more held on than anything. I so wanted to start slamming Mom up and down on my dick, but I resisted. Instead, I took deep breaths as the pleasure filled my body.

I suddenly felt my balls tingling. "I'm going-"

"Do it."

As I began to spurt, I grabbed Mom's bottom firmly and slammed my dick into her. Spurt after spurt shot into her. It felt so good. Pleasure radiated out from my crotch.

"You're a man, now," said Mom. "My Northwestern Man." She gave me a small kiss on the lips as I spurted my last. Mom grabbed my pajamas and rolled off me while bringing my pajamas to her crotch. She said, "Wear a new pair. I'll wash these tomorrow."

Mom moved off my bed and stood up. "Remember - never a word to anyone."

"I promise."

Mom grabbed her nightgown and threw it over her. She kissed me again. "Sweet dreams, my Northwestern Man."

"Sweet dreams, Mom."

* * * *

The next morning was Sunday. We all went to church, and I had a lot of sins for which to repent. Not that I regretted what I did with Mom - it had been wonderful, and I did feel like a man now. After church, Mom and Aunt Agnes made up. I didn't feel their apologies were sincere, and I'd be surprised if anyone did. There'd still be bad blood between Mom and Aunt Agnes, but they'd cover it up enough so family and friends wouldn't have to pick sides. Dad didn't apologize to me for how he acted the prior night. I didn't know if I wanted him to or not, but his behavior seemed to cause awkwardness among all my family after church, like it was the one thing they wanted to talk about but couldn't until they met more privately.

I tried to act the same around Mom and Dad. I hoped that if anyone noticed me acting differently, they put it down to me graduating or Dad's behavior at my graduation party. I kept having the same thought over and over - Would I ever fuck Mom again? She hadn't said anything one way or another last night. The only reason we were able to do it last night was that Dad was out cold in his bed, something that would probably never happen again. But I'd be alone with Mom plenty of other times this summer. On Bowling Night, would Mom switch to fucking me instead of sucking my dick? But I knew that was too risky - one of her friends could drop by at any moment. That had happened several times. Or one of her friends could call, and Mom would be forced to answer the phone in the kitchen naked, which would make an unexpected visit from a friend absolutely disastrous. And Monday, I'd start work at Mr. Culp's office, so Mom and I wouldn't be alone at home. Not that we could do anything at home anyway during the day, as I knew from prior summers that the calls and visits came very often.
Monday evening, Dad left for his poker game as usual a little after dinner. I was washing the dishes when Mom came in. "I feel like I need a break from ironing. Oh, what can I do? If I only had a TV to watch. As I don't, what would you think of listening to a radio show with me on the couch?"

Was Mom suggesting?... "What would we listen to?"

"I was thinking of some comedy show. Something we wouldn't have to pay too close attention to. I'll meet you at the couch at eight."

At eight, I set down my book and Mom stopped her ironing. She turned on a comedy show and sat down next to me on the couch. Mom was dressed as she had been all day, in a pink cotton blouse and a white skirt. Mom quickly laid down the new ground rules - "I remain fully dressed, and you don't mess up my hair. We take breaks when the show takes breaks to straighten ourselves and to change positions. We start out slow, but later in the show you are free to touch me anywhere you want." She leaned forward and gave me a kiss.

For the next forty minutes, Mom and I made out madly on the couch. We started with just kissing and touching safe spots, but once it was past eight-thirty, I was feeling Mom's breasts through her blouse and running my hand up her skirt to squeeze her bottom. And then the doorbell rang. Mom stood up and straightened herself as I grabbed my book and disappeared into my room. Ten minutes later, I heard the front door close. I exited my room and returned to the couch, where Mom was waiting for me. We resumed madly making out until the show ended.

Mom and I stood up and straightened ourselves. Mom reached out and rubbed my dick through my pants. "My," she said in a sultry tone, "You seem to have a big problem there. I need to get back to my ironing, so I can't take care of it tonight. How about in the morning? Say five minutes after your father leaves for work?" Dad's shift started at eight, and he left the house twenty minutes before that so he'd be sure to punch in on time. "You don't have to be at work until nine, so we'll have plenty of time. Set your alarm for seven forty-five and then meet me in my bedroom." Mom walked over to the ironing board and resumed ironing like she hadn't blown up my world.

I hardly slept a wink that night. I kept pondering all of the possible scenarios. Would Mom suck my dick again? Would she fuck me? Would she do both? Would we do a long make-out session first like we had done tonight? Would we get down to having sex quickly like we did when she sucked my dick? Should I try to be more of a man and take charge? Would Mom like that? Or should I let her be in charge like she had been all the other times?

I did fall asleep because at 7:45 I was awoken by my alarm clock. I sprang out of bed and almost sprinted to Mom's bedroom. Mom was there in light blue pajamas, something that she frequently wore when she cooked breakfast. She said, "Go get your pajama tops. You don't have to wear them, just bring them here."

"Okay."

I walked briskly back to my room, got the pajama top that matched the pajama pants I was wearing, and rushed back to Mom's bedroom. The buttons on her pajama top were already unbuttoned. Mom said as I entered, "If someone knocks on the door, you answer it in your pajamas while I jump into the shower. You tell them I'm taking a shower and you were sleeping in. I don't expect anyone to visit this early, but it's best to have a plan in case they do. As always, never a word to anyone about this."

"Never a word, Mom."

"Now help me pull down the covers."

I moved to the other side of the bed from Mom and we pulled down the covers and the sheet to close to the foot of the bed. Once we did that, Mom spread a towel out on the bed.

"Today's a laundry day," Mom said as she slipped off her pajama top. "After my shower, I'll wash this and the other towels. We're only going to do this on laundry days." My eyes widened a little. So we were going to do this every Tuesday and Friday morning? "Now let's get naked."

As I pulled down my pajamas, I stared at Mom's large breasts. This was the first time I had gotten a good look at them. They were full and round, and their circles were a light brown and about the size of a quarter. As Mom bent forward to remove her pajama bottoms, her breasts swung forward and dangled down from her chest. Mom then slipped into the bed, moving into the center.

"Climb over me," Mom said as I put my knee onto the bed. "As this is very dangerous, we'll do this as fast as we can. We may take our time more in the future depending on how long this takes us." I climbed over Mom so she was to my left when I laid down facing her. "You'll use your hand to get me off, and then we'll make love. We won't make love with me lying on my back and with you being over me. That's how a good wife makes love with her husband. That's for your father. We'll do something different. Now, first things first." Mom took my right hand and brought it to her womanhood. "Be very gentle. Put a finger inside my lips and rub gently up and down it." I started doing that. The feeling of the skin inside her womanly lips was very different, something like the skin inside of my mouth. "Slower and more gently." I rubbed more slowly and gently, discovering the amazing feel of my mom's womanhood. I stopped watching my hand and instead looked at Mom's face. I watched her reactions as I slowly moved my hand. Mom's eyes were slitted, and she was taking deep breaths.

As I was moving my finger, I suddenly felt something. Mom said, "That's my button. I'll have you come back to it later. For now, don't touch it. Instead, put your finger inside of me."

I found Mom's entrance and slipped my finger inside. Mom hissed. "Yes. There. Move down and put your whole finger inside of me."

I moved down Mom's body until my shoulders were below her waist. I shoved my finger all the way inside of Mom.

"Now slowly remove it. Make love to me with your finger."

I pulled my finger out of Mom until only the tip remained inside, and then I pushed it all the way back in. I looked up Mom's body to watch her face, but I mostly saw her tits. They looked smaller now as they were collapsed on her chest. As I thrust my finger into Mom, I could see them move slightly. I wasn't thrusting my finger hard enough to cause more than a slight tremor. Thrusting my finger into my mom's womanhood was...odd. I had never imagined such a thing would be done. Stick your dick into a woman? Absolutely! That's how you made babies. But a finger?

Mom's breaths got longer and louder as I continued to fuck her with my finger. And then she said, "Add another finger."

I did as Mom said. I noticed that her nipples were hard and erect now. I continued fucking her with my fingers until Mom suddenly cried out. She clamped her thighs on my hand, so I stopped moving it. Mom laid there all tensed up for a while, and then relaxed and spread her legs. I removed my fingers from inside of her.

I moved back to lying on my side next to Mom. As I did, I stuck my two fingers into my mouth.

"How do I taste?"

"Not bad. I can't say I've ever tasted anything like it." I shrugged. "I wouldn't mind tasting you again."

"Good. We'll experiment with you tasting me more in the future. But now, let's get to the main event." Mom flipped over. "Let's try with you behind me. I've never done that before. If I don't like it, we'll try something different."

Mom rose up on all fours. I moved between her legs and moved my dick toward her womanhood. Once I was close, I took my dick in my hand and guided it into Mom. Once my tip was inside of her, I pushed forward.

"Slow. That's a lot bigger than your fingers."

I slowly pushed my dick forward into Mom until my crotch was pressed against her. I then slid my hands back, feeling her smooth, bare skin. It was hard for me to believe that I had my mom naked in front of me and that I was about to fuck her. I can't help admiring her luscious, full bottom.

"Let's start now," said Mom.

I grasped Mom by the waist and pulled back slowly, savoring the feeling Mom's womanhood was giving my dick. It was so tight and so wonderfully slick. When I was almost out, I pushed back in. I did another cycle.

"Stop," said Mom. "Let me try something." She lowered herself so that the top of her chest was against the bed. "In and out two more times." I fucked Mom twice and stopped. The angle was different, and I didn't like it as much. Mom moved herself up, but rested on her elbows this time instead of her hands. "Two more times." Again, I fucked Mom twice and stopped. "Which did you like better?"

"When you were on your hands. Which did you like better?"

"I'm not really sure. But I've had my fun, so let's do what you prefer."

Mom rose up on her hands. I gripped her waist firmly and resumed fucking her. I set a moderate pace, as slow as I could go while comfortably thrusting deep into Mom. God, fucking her felt so good. And I loved the view of her marvelous bottom and her pretty back. I could make out a little of her breasts as they swung underneath.

"Stop," Mom said suddenly. I stopped. "Let me try doing everything." I held my position as Mom moved forward, forcing my cock to pull most of the way out of her. And then she pushed back, forcing my dick deep inside of her. She did that a few more times and stopped. "I like it, but too much work. You go back to driving."

I resumed fucking Mom. I fucked her more firmly this time, slamming my dick deep into her. Mom moved her butt backward as I thrust so I'd impale her even more.

"This is great, Mom. It feels so good. And being behind you like this really makes me feel like a man."

"You are a man. My Northwestern Man." I smiled at that. "It's good for me too, Jack. But don't try to hold back. We need to finish as quickly as possible."

"Okay."

I continued fucking Mom with deep thrusts. I wanted to pause and squeeze her beautiful, white bottom, but I didn't want to do anything that might interrupt our rhythm. We had such a great rhythm going, with Mom perfectly meeting each of my thrusts. Pleasure filled me. It was hard to picture anything being more enjoyable than this.

I felt a tingle in my balls. "I'm getting close."

"Fill me, Jack."

I did a couple more strokes, and then I felt my babymakers flowing up my dick. I slammed deep inside of Mom, and a wave of pleasure swept over me as I spurted and spurted into her. Once I was done spurting, I slumped over Mom and gave her a hug. "That was wonderful."

Mom patted my arm. "I enjoyed it too." She partially threw me off her. "Time for me to get into the shower. Stay in your room until I call for you. Be ready to answer the door in case of any knocks, but also be ready to shower once I'm decent."

* * * *

That night, Mom made some big changes to our Tuesday nights. It remained our date night, but she didn't change into a dress or give me a show of her undergarments. Instead, she wore what she had worn in the day ("It made me very nervous the one time someone noticed that I had changed clothes"). She still wore a hat and gloves, and she still spent a lot of time getting her hair just right. Mom did cap off our date by sucking my dick.

After that, Mom and I settled into a schedule for the rest of the summer. Monday nights, Mom would take a break from her ironing to make out with me on the couch. Tuesday mornings, we'd make love as soon as Dad left for work. Tuesday nights were our date night which ended in Mom sucking my dick. Friday mornings, we'd make love again. I tried to convince Mom to not go to the Andersons' on Friday nights to watch TV, but she said, "We are to do nothing that might tip people off that we are having fun together when your dad is gone."

I enjoyed working at Mr. Culp's insurance office. I watched one of the women work for the first few days. When things were slow and the women in the office gossiped, I'd read manuals and such. I felt like my social skills had improved enough from Mom's tutoring that I probably could have joined in the gossiping, but thought it best to continue to act the bookworm. After a couple of weeks, the women in the office started asking me questions about the finer details of our work.

On the Fourth of July, my brother Bob proposed to his girlfriend Betty. They were planning on getting married right after Christmas so they could honeymoon while the plant was shut down between Christmas and New Year. Everyone was very excited and happy for them.

Aunt Agnes' daughter Joan never returned from California, finding a job there. People in town speculated that she had fallen in with beatniks or was now the mistress of some foreigner. The fact that Aunt Agnes shared no details about Joan's life in California fueled the speculation. Whenever people would talk about Joan with Mom, Mom never joined in the speculation, but she did smile a lot as she listened to it.

Lovemaking with Mom was fantastic. With wifely-duty sex off the table, both of us used our imagination to come up with new things to do. As the summer wore on, Mom let me be more in charge. I'd decide how I'd get her off and then how I'd fuck her. Mom was always very business-like during our lovemaking sessions, wanting them to finish quickly but also wanting to fully enjoy the pleasure. I loved to fuck her from behind, gripping her small waist with her full, round bottom in front of me.

And then it was the day before I was going to go to Northwestern. It was a Thursday. My dad was taking the next day off from work to drive me to Chicago to drop me off. Mom hadn't talked about what would happen after today. As soon as Dad left, I plucked up my courage to tell Mom what I wanted her to do. I went into her bedroom just before she took her shower. She was wearing a pale blue cotton nightgown.

"Mom, there's something I need to talk to you about."

"What, Jack."

"Mom." I screwed up my courage. "I want you to come to Chicago and live with me. Let's get an apartment close to campus. You can take care of me, and, at night, we can be lovers."

"No, Jack." Mom sat down on the bed and patted the space next to her to indicate that I should sit there. "I've been putting off having this talk with you, but now's the time." I sat down next to Mom. "I don't want to live in Chicago. I'm a little scared just thinking about driving around Chicago tomorrow. I'm a small-town girl. This is where my family is. This is where all my friends are. And with Bob and Betty getting married, I'll have a grandchild here in the not-too-distant future. This is where I belong." Mom picked up my hand and squeezed it. "You don't belong here. This is a town for men who are satisfied getting a union job at the plant and marrying a pretty girl. You aren't like that. You've always had dreams that were too big for this town. And once you go to Chicago, your dreams will get even bigger."

Tears started running down my cheeks. I had suspected that this was what would happen, but I hadn't wanted to face it. I had hoped that if I had asked Mom to go to Chicago, we could keep up our affair.

Mom squeezed my hand. "This summer has been so wonderful," she said warmly. "You've filled my life with such excitement. But it's too risky to keep doing. I constantly worry that people will start talking about us. I think we've done a good job of hiding our relationship, but we'll make a slip-up eventually if we keep it up. So today will be our last time."

I nodded my head as the tears continued to flow. I had hoped we'd keep our affair going at Christmas time, but Mom was now ruling that out.

Mom reached out and rubbed my dick through my pajama bottoms. "I've taught you a lot about girls, and I'm expecting you to put those lessons to good use when you get to Northwestern. And I want to hear all about it. I want to hear about how you round the bases with those Chicago girls. They won't say no to a Northwestern man." Mom slipped her hand inside my pajamas and began stroking my dick.

The tears had stopped. I knew I was going to have sex with my mom one more time, and that's what I was focused on now. I stood up and stripped naked. Mom did the same.

Mom sat back down on the bed. As she grabbed my dick and pulled me in front of her, she said, "With this talk, I don't think there's time this morning for lovemaking. But we have time to do something special." Mom opened her mouth and guided my dick inside. She bobbed her head up and down a couple of times before popping my dick out of her mouth and stroked it.

"When you go to Chicago, you'll keep filling my life with excitement. Call me every week and tell me about how great you're doing in your classes." Mom inhaled my dick for another quick suck and then slid off it again. "Tell me about how far you've gotten with your latest girl. I want all the details. I want to be able to imagine you doing to me what you're doing to her."

Mom took my dick into her mouth again and did several bobs on it. Pleasure swept through me. She was so great at sucking dick. I was doubtful that I'd ever met a girl as talented as her.

When Mom pulled her mouth off my dick, she grabbed my hands and put them on her breasts. I began squeezing them, admiring yet again their size and softness. "But also, treat her like I've taught you to treat me." Mom began stroking my dick vigorously. At this rate, she'd have me blasting off in no time. "Treat her with respect. Don't force her to do anything she doesn't want to do, but tell her doing whatever she wants to do doesn't mean she's a bad girl. Teach her that sex is not a womanly duty, but something that she should enjoy just as much as the man. And that if she isn't, it's the man's fault, and she should dump him."

Mom licked down on my dick and then licked back up. She took it into her mouth and frantically bobbed on it while vigorously pumping my dick with her hand. She had me on the verge of exploding when she stopped.

"Jack," she said lustily as she continued pumping my dick hard, "I want you to shoot all over me. Cover my face and my breasts with your babyjuice. I want your last view of me naked to be with me proudly marked as your lover. I will always want to be your lover, Jack. I will always remember this fantastic summer with you. You'll have many lovers, Jack, but you'll never have one who loves you more than me."

Once more, my dick went into Mom's mouth. She sucked hard as she slid her mouth up and down my dick while stroking the part that was out of her mouth.

"Mom, I'm..."

Mom pulled her head off my dick and then tilted her head back while stroking my dick. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth. She looked so damn sexy as I started spurting. The first spurt landed on the left side of her nose and left a string of white all down that side of her face. Mom moved my dick over so the next spurt covered the right side of her face. The next two spurts went even higher, landing in her hair and coating her eyebrows. Mom pulled me back while thrusting up her chest. She kept her eyes closed, and her mouth formed a huge smile. The next spurt landed a few inches above her right breast and left a string over it. Mom moved my dick over to her left breast, which I coated with two smaller spurts. She had brought my dick back to her right breast for my last few spurts.

Spent, I stood there for a few moments panting. Mom was the most incredibly sexy sight, happily coated in my babyjuice, luxuriating in the feel of it on her.

"I love you, Jack. I will always love you. Always remember this moment."

I felt like my heart was about to burst from too much love for my mother. "I love you too, Mom. And I will also always remember this."

Author's Notes:
* A huge thanks to those who contributed to this story: AJ, AzureAsh, burgwad, harrybo8, Kerrick Wolf, Obliviscoris, OhDave1, Old Uncle Al, Tennessee Ted and TM
* Please vote and comment! They are my only "payment" for this story
* I intentionally have two things wrong in the story. One is that very few families had two cars in the 50's. When I found that out, I already had the mom having a car as a major plot point and couldn't see how to get around it. The other is, from what I have read, families were not physically affectionate in the 50's. Before Dr. Spock published "The Common Sense Book of Baby and Child Care" in 1946, experts told parents to not hug or kiss their children because that would not prepare them to be strong and independent individuals in a harsh world. Not having family members hug just felt too wrong to me. I'm not sure about the house having three bedrooms. The average new home in the 50's was 980 square feet, but I pictured Jack living in an older home. If there is anything else I got wrong in the story, please PM me.
* If you find any typos or grammar problems, please PM them to me and I will post a cleaned up version of this story
* The extended Author's Notes are on my blog, which you can get to through my profile
* I did not knowingly use any other Literotica author's words in this story
* If you send me a PM, please have a valid email address on your LitE account so I can reply back if I choose
Some typos were removed in 2024.