Chapter 2: A Mother’s Advice

The next morning my mom and I were eating breakfast as my dad had already left to go to his downtown office. Though I had to get to school soon it was nice to have some time alone with just my mom, especially when she was working this ridiculous evening shift and I didn’t see her unless I stayed up past midnight. We were just talking about my school and her work when she put down her spoon and looked at me with a grin. I knew that smile ... uh-oh, what was up?

“Say, I hear you were pretty horny last night,” she said in a teasing voice, “Still missing Steve, eh?”

“Darn it anyways, I guess Dad must have said something,” I whined in a low voice, not really sure where this conversation was headed. She’d never cared if my dad saw me masturbating before so I didn’t understand why it was an issue now. And really ... I couldn’t believe he’d complained about me being noisy while he was watching TV!

“Oh don’t worry about your dad,” she said, taking my hand in hers, “I’m getting worried about YOU. Why aren’t you seeing other boys if you’re feeling that way? I’m sure there are plenty who would be more than happy to take care of your needs.”

“I don’t know mom,” I whined some more. It reminded me of when I was ten years old and she would ask me if I was starting to like boys.

“Well, I really do think you should start dating again,” she said in a serious tone, “It’s not good for you to keep all that tension bottled up inside.”

“I know ... but that’s ALL they want,” I complained, “Steve must’ve told every boy in school about me and now everyone treats me like a slut.”

My mom looked like she wanted to break out laughing but she managed to contain herself. “So what’s wrong with that? Be honest, it’s not like you and Steve played cards or went bowling every night. Besides, if that’s what people think then why not take advantage of it?”

She was right, as always. I was being a bit two-faced about everything even if she didn’t come right out and say it that way. On the one hand I wanted sex with Steve every chance I had but on the other hand I still had this naive image of myself that I wasn’t quite ready to leave behind.

“So you think I’m a slut too?” I asked my mom, rolling my eyes.

“Well Kelly, that would depend on what you mean by slut,” my mom responded gently, “You’re certainly not a bad girl, just a cutie that enjoys sex so in some people’s books that makes you a dirty slut. In my book, it just means you’re sexy. If I was in your shoes, I’d be proud of it. After all, guys don’t call ugly girls who put out sluts, do they??

She paused as if waiting to see my reaction. I guess it made sense when you looked at it that way. After all, my dad already referred to me as his “little slut” sometimes when he teased me and I knew he didn’t mean anything bad by it. Yet even so, sometimes when I passed a group of boys I could hear the whispers and when I heard the word “slut” it still made me feel a bit odd.

“So what should I do then Mom?” I asked, “Should I just go for it and start fucking other guys or go slow, maybe just dating them for a while first?”

My mom shook her head at me and grinned, “Oh no, you’re not going to pin me down on THAT one! If it was me, I’d start out maybe in the middle; you know - maybe a BJ or something like that but don’t let them fuck you right away. After all, you want to be a slut, not a whore.”

“What’s the difference?”

“What, besides the fact one gets paid and the other does it for free?”

I nodded and my mom continued saying, “Well, when a guy dates a whore he knows what he’s going to get and he expects to get it, no questions asked once the negotiations are completed. Now with a slut, on the other hand, he can have hopes but not necessarily expectations as he can never be sure how far she’ll go. A whore can ever really tease like a slut because a guy knows with a whore he’s getting it eventually whereas with a slut there’s always that question of will she or won’t she? Whores SELL their bodies, sluts USE them.”

You gotta love my mom! She always seems to have the right answer for me. On the one hand she looked out for me and tried to steer me in the right direction. Yet on the other hand she was willing to back off and allow me to make my own mistakes and experiment - so long as I didn’t get hurt. It was times like this when her wisdom and guidance was invaluable to me and I left for school feeling much better about myself.