Sandra

My mom is a single mom. She's raised my sister and me since we were eight and six years old respectively. I realize the image of a single mom raising two kids alone is somewhat less than ideal. However, my mom was different. She was amazing. She also had a lot of financial help and didn't have to work. She was able to focus on maintaining a nice, clean home and raising us.

In the ten years my mom and dad had together, they managed to buy a house and have two children. The house came first. My dad worked in an aircraft assembly plant and had a good income. Good enough that my mom didn't have to work. They bought the house before they were married and dad spent time painting and fixing small problems before they tied the knot. The house was a two-story, three-bedroom bungalow in a small neighborhood where the houses were further apart than you see today. The bedrooms were upstairs and shared a single bathroom. Downstairs was a parlor, kitchen, dining room, small powder room and the single garage.

One of the major projects my dad did was to replace the shower over tub configuration in the bathroom on the second floor with a slightly larger, step-in shower with clear glass doors.

My sister, Janet, arrived two years after they married and I, Bobby, came two years later. For the next six years my dad was a dynamo outside the house installing and maintaining landscaping and my mother just as dynamic in furnishing and maintaining the interior.

When I was six years old and two weeks before my parent's tenth anniversary, my dad leaned against a railing thirty-five feet above the assembly floor at work and fell over when it gave way. He bounced off an airplane under construction and landed on the cement floor. They rushed him to the hospital where he never regained consciousness. He died three weeks later.

The company paid the two years pay insurance policy quickly and offered my mother a financial settlement without admitting responsibility. Mom delayed accepting the offer until after the funeral. Fortunately, at the funeral, the union representative approached my mom, counseled her not to sign anything and recommended a lawyer for her to see.

On the advice of the lawyer, mom refused every attempt to settle and went to court for a wrongful death civil suit. Mom's lawyer presented a case where dad's employer had knowingly skimped on necessary maintenance to save money, including the weakened railing. Janet and I sat behind mom during the trial and I believe our presence had something to do with the result. Both the judge and jury were sympathetic. They awarded mom an amount they calculated to equal the total income my dad would have earned if he had lived, including assumed wage increases, bonuses, pension and social security. Then they tacked on treble damages for the deliberate failure to maintain a safe working environment.

The company threatened to appeal the judgment but mom's lawyer somehow negotiated a final settlement. Given the huge amount, the lawyer reduced his fee to twenty-five percent and assisted my mom in placing the money with a reputable investment firm. Mom has been living comfortably on the earnings from that settlement ever since. She could afford almost any living arrangement she wanted but she chose to stay in the house she and dad shared. She wanted to keep the memories and the place where they happened.

Both mom and dad's parents were children of the sixties and seventies. It would be an understatement to categorize my grandparents as free spirited. My grandmother was at Woodstock in 1969 where she met my grandfather. It is a family legend that my father was conceived at the festival. My mother's parents were no less impetuous. The result was that both my parents were raised in casual environments; not quite free sex but not puritanical either. They were comfortable with incidental nudity, including skinny-dipping, but not flagrant exhibitionism.

My mother raised us in a similar manner. Between the three of us, an occasional glimpse of a tit, ass or penis was not a concern, especially with a single, shared bathroom. Over the next twelve years we shared the close quarters without guilt or embarrassment. The freedom we shared as children didn't moderate as we grew older. It was rare, but not unusual, for me or my sister to use the bathroom while the other was showering. Only my mother was more prudent. Only once do I remember her having to pee so badly that she used the toilet while I was in the shower. She was apologetic, stating she didn't think she could make it downstairs to the powder room. The steamed up glass shower door saved her any embarrassment and I thought nothing of it afterward. I think she was less concerned about sharing the bathroom with my sister.

By the time I was eighteen and a senior in high school, my sister had graduated and found a job at a car dealership. She continued to live at home to save money, she said, but I think it was easier for her to manage her social life if she couldn't entertain.

My high school senior trip was a bus trip to the city for a weekend of touring and theater on Saturday night. We left Friday after school and planned a two-night stay in a hotel, returning late Sunday afternoon. The trip consisted of fourteen guys, fourteen gals and two chaperons; Mr. Grant, the auto mechanic teacher and Ms. Pancoast, the typing teacher. The plan was to bunk two guys to a room and two gals to a room with Mr. Grant and Ms. Pancoast having their own private rooms.

During the four-hour drive, it became obvious to most of us that one or the other of the private rooms would be extraneous. Our chaperons seemed more interested in each other than with us. That encouraged the students to make alternate arrangements of their own. Soon each of the guys was repaired with a happy to oblige gal and they planned to exchange room keys after check-in. I took little interest in the rearrangement and I was ultimately paired with Cecilia. Cecilia changed her seat on the bus and sat next to me. I hardly knew her. I had seen her around school and thought she was kind of cute but I never fantasized about her. My sister filled that space.

"Are you okay with this?" she asked as she sat next to me.

"Absolutely," I responded hoping I exhibited more enthusiasm than I felt.

Later, John Clark, a linebacker on the football team, came down the aisle with a large box of condoms. He offered them to anyone who wanted them. I hesitated and Cecilia took three. I think Mr. Clark took six. Ms. Pancoast added two more. We didn't talk much but Cecilia held my hand for the rest of the drive.

At the hotel, everyone was handed a key to their room. Everyone exchanged information about what rooms they were assigned and went to their rooms. Ten minutes later, seven gals and seven guys were relocating. I stayed behind and waited. A few minutes later someone knocked on the door. When I opened it, Cecilia rolled her suitcase into the room and looked around.

"Nice room," she said. "Bigger than the room I was assigned. You have two queen-sized beds. Ours were just doubles." She looked in the bathroom. "Nicer," she exclaimed. "No tub. Big shower. Cool."

It was getting late. The plan was for everyone to get a good night's sleep and meet at eight in the morning for breakfast. I was pretty sure most everyone else were unwrapping condoms and testing the bedsprings.

I didn't know what to say. "I think we should get ready for bed," came out. "That sounded stupid," I thought.

"Do you want to go first?" asked Cecilia.

"No. Why don't you go first," I answered.

Cecilia placed her suitcase on the end of a bed and removed a small kit that I assumed contained her toothbrush and other necessary items. Next to it she placed a white nightgown. I didn't appear too short but it wasn't too long either. It wasn't transparent nor was it opaque. I could see the muted pattern of the bedspread through parts of it. She closed and put her suitcase on the floor, kicked off her shoes, picked up the items on the bed and went into the bathroom. She closed the door but I didn't hear her lock it. A few moments later I heard the shower start.

I took advantage of Cecilia being in the bathroom to get a few items out of my suitcase. I hadn't thought ahead and I hadn't brought anything that could pass for pajamas. When Cecilia opened the bathroom door, I was standing barefoot, wearing my jeans and a tee shirt and holding my toiletries kit.

I knew Cecilia was cute but she was a knockout in her nightgown. It came to mid thigh and was almost see through in all the right places. I could just make out the pale circles around her nipples and a darker triangle at the top of her thighs. She had let her hair down and it hung to below her shoulder blades. I stood breathless. Han Solo frozen in carbonite could breathe easier.

"Your turn," she said casually, pretending to be unaware of my paralysis.

I managed a weak, "Thanks," as I walked comatose to the bathroom. Inside, I looked in the mirror, slapped myself a couple of times to wake up and took a shower. When I came out I was freshly shaved, orally minted and wearing my jeans with a fresh pair of briefs underneath. Cecilia was sitting on the room side of the bed near the door facing the other bed. I didn't notice it at the time but the condoms were on the small chest between the beds. I walked to the far side of the other bed, turned down the covers and sat on the sheet. I pushed my jeans off, deftly lifted the covers and slid into bed without exposing myself below the waist. I lay down with my back to her.

"Good night," I said.

Cecilia got off her bed and sat on the side of my bed. "Do you really want to just go to sleep?" she asked.

I rolled over to see her. I must have looked pretty pathetic.

"Listen," she ordered.

I didn't hear anything but I pretended to listen.

"That sucking sound you hear is everyone else fucking their brains out. I bought this outfit just for you. I saved for weeks to pay for this trip and I worked my ass off to get this room with you and you just want to go to sleep? I thought you'd be overjoyed. Is there something wrong with you? Are you gay?"

"Crap. I've really screwed this up," I thought. "You...you what?" I stammered.

"I think you heard me well enough the first time," she countered.

"Cecilia," I said. "I'm really sorry. I've really screwed this up. Honestly, I never imagined this trip was anything except what it was advertised as, a senior trip. I feel like an idiot. I'm a fuckin' imbecile. I believed we were just paired so someone else could be together. I thought you were of the same mind. I wouldn't, I couldn't, make a move on you. It's a matter of respect for women. It's how I was raised. Can you forgive me? Can we start over?"

I could see her expression soften somewhat. "That's better," she said. "Where do you want to start?"

"Well, we've already blown the shower scene." Cecilia laughed quietly. "How about you stand up next to the bed? I want the full experience, the total package."

Cecilia smiled and stood next to the bed. I sat on the bed, cross-legged, and stared at her. She looked a little uneasy. I tried to keep the hunger out of my eyes without success. She was incredible. I wasn't a virgin, but I'd never experienced the captivating effect of a beautiful woman presenting herself to me so honestly. I smiled at her and motioned for her to turn around. She did and looked into my eyes when she finished.

"More slowly," I whispered as I motioned for her to turn around again. She turned again, almost painfully slowly. I savored every detail as she turned. I felt weak as I followed the profile of her perfect breasts through the fabric of her nightgown and then the fullness of her cheeks as the fabric bumped out and fell over them.

When she was done, I licked my lips. Cecilia licked her lips in return. I moved my hands as if I were holding my breasts and Cecilia moved her hands under her breasts and lifted them in my direction. We had passed some milestone. I could sense the energy in the room. I could smell the soft aroma of arousal. I leaned forward and turned down the rest of the bedcovers as an invitation. Cecilia moved to remove her nightgown.

"Leave it on," I said gently.

She climbed into the bed next to me and we stretched out together. I used my hand to move her hair behind her ear and let it fall slowly through my fingers. "I don't deserve you," I said, "after the way I treated you."

"Maybe, but I deserve you. You'll just have to make do," she said.

She leaned in and we kissed. It was a first kiss. A test. Cecilia leaned back, licked her lips and came in for another, more passionate kiss. This was the real thing. A kiss for the ages. The kiss we would remember. I held her tightly as we kissed. Our arms slid under each other and our bodies pressed tightly together as we kissed once, twice and then a third time. My lips slid down to her neck and I kissed her below her ear. She moaned slightly so I kissed her twice more. My hand was down her back and pressing her nightgown into her ass. Her hand was under my briefs holding against my bare skin.

We came apart. I kissed her lips, her nose and her forehead. She rolled on her back and my hand slid up her abdomen to her breast. I felt the weight of her breast in my hand and I could feel her nipple harden as I used my finger to circle it through the nightgown. She pushed me on my back and did the same with her finger on my nipple.

"I think its time for me take this off," she said.

"Let me do it," I offered.

We kneeled on the bed facing each other. I reached for the hem of her nightgown and slowly lifted up her body. She lifted her arms as I slid it over her head and off. I took her cheeks in my hands and kissed her lips before I moved down to kiss her neck. She sensed where I was headed and arched her back as I kissed first one breast and then the other. She put her thumbs in the waistband of my briefs and pushed them down on my hips. I lay back and lifted my legs so she could move them off completely. I lay there as she gently held my personal record hard erection in her hand. The feeling was exquisite. I'd never experienced anything like it before. It wasn't the first time I'd had a girl touch me but it was the first time without rushing and without cramped quarters. Nobody was looking for us. Nobody would interrupt us. We had all the time and space in the world.

Maybe next time. We both felt the need. I needed to feel myself inside her and I knew she wanted me the same way. Cecilia straddled my hips, held my erection straight up and pressed her opening against the head of my cock. There is always a first time. The time you remember for the rest of your life. The one you want to repeat forever. I can't explain the overwhelming euphoria as Cecilia slid her warm body slowly down onto my erection. This was a religious experience. I understood why so many people invoke God when they have sex.

Cecilia leaned forward and kissed me as she ran her fingers through my hair. Her hair fell off her shoulders and onto my face, neck and shoulders. My hands held her shoulders and slid down to hold her hips. We stayed like that for long minutes. Neither of us wanted to disturb the aura of the first time.

Eventually Cecilia moved her hips slightly. I moved mine as well. "No," she whispered, "let me do it. I want to be selfish. Next time I'll do whatever you want."

She moved slowly. She moved rapidly. She moved up and down and all around. She arched her back and I caressed her breasts. She panted and cried. In the process she brought me to the edge.

"Cecilia," I said. "the condom. We didn't use one."

"Not this time," she said. "I want to feel you deep inside me. I want to feel you squirt everything even deeper. I want your cum to run out of me, down my legs and onto the floor when we finish. I want to feel like a real woman. Like a complete woman."

She moved just a little more and I felt her body stiffen and her vagina grab me hard as fluid leaked over my pubic hair and abdomen. I grabbed her hips tightly, pushed up into her as hard as I could and unleashed a flood of my own. I pumped six or seven times before I was done and she collapsed on top of me. I pushed her hair out of her face. She lifted her head and kissed me with a renewed passion. We rolled onto our sides with me still inside her and lay holding each other close as I slowly shrunk and slipped out of her.

I have no idea how long we lay together like that. Eventually, Cecilia climbed out of bed and headed to the bathroom. She had her wish. I could see milky fluid running down her legs as she walked.

When she returned, she climbed into bed beside me. "Don't you have to pee?" she asked as she held my limp dick in her hand.

"Not yet," I answered.

"You know," she said as she continued to stroke my cock. "This is the best invention ever."

I looked at her. There was a joy in her eyes I'd never seen before with anyone. "That wasn't sex, was it?" I asked.

"No, it wasn't," she agreed. "I can't describe it but it was way more than sex."

We stayed that way until Cecilia managed to resurrect my erection. She used her hands and, as things began to show promise, she used her mouth. "Is that how I taste?" she asked.

"I don't know. I haven't tasted you yet," I answered.

"We may have to wait to answer that definitively. Right now I think there's more of you than of me. You seem ready. This time you're in charge. I only have one request. I want sex this time."

Sex is what we had. I played her clitoris with my fingers and my tongue. I slipped my fingers and my tongue into her as far as they would go. I nibbled her clit and she tongued and nibbled my cock and balls. I entered her on her back, on her side, from behind and on her knees. I had her in her mouth and between her tits. Finally, I had her in her ass. She loved it all. She came back for more every time. I lost count of the number of times her body stiffened, her toes curled and she screamed with renewed energy. When I finally came, I was in her mouth. I left everything I had in her mouth, on her lips, chin and breasts. I kissed her and licked her body. We slept in each others arms. We woke up, fucked and went to sleep again.

In the morning, we showered together, figured out how to have sex against the shower wall and washed again. We dressed and went downstairs for breakfast. There were still three condoms on the bedside shelf.

Most everyone was in the hotel dining room. Many were already feasting on the breakfast buffet. Mr. Clark arrived a half-hour late followed a discrete five minutes later by an unsteady Ms. Pancoast. During breakfast, I noticed Mr. Clark talking with John Clark. When I asked John later, he told me he was looking for more condoms. Mr. Clark earned the nickname, "Superman" that weekend and it stuck with him for the rest of the school year. I also think, one or two of my classmates considered a career teaching auto mechanics.

The rest of Saturday was a blur. Saturday night was a mess. Cecilia and I showered three times and slept even less. We changed beds sometime during the night when "the spot" became too large to avoid. Sunday morning, we packed for the trip home including the three condoms. I thought about giving them to Mr. Clark but reconsidered when Cecilia convinced me the "better late than never" joke might be more embarrassing than funny.

Cecilia sat with me in the back of the bus on the way home. We touched a lot. I considered asking her to sit on my lap for a short encore but deleted the thought since I knew we had something more that I didn't want to spoil.

Cecilia was an immediate favorite with my mother and sister. We were married two months after graduation. I was already working in the same aircraft assembly plant where my father had worked. My sister helped Cecilia get a job with the auto dealership.