Chapter 1

For the sake of this story I will call myself Pamela. It’s not my real name and for various reasons I think it’s best we all just leave it at that, if you think about it I’m sure you can understand why.

I’m a 36 year old widow and mother of a 16-year-old boy. I stand 5’3” tall and I weigh around 135 pounds. I know most women would not dare to speak of how much they weigh, but I have the added bonus of being anonymous, so it makes no difference here.

I have 36D cup breasts, 29 inch waist, and 34 hips, and an ass that even at the age of 35 is still as full, large, round and as firm as it had been in my 20’s. I suppose you could call that an hourglass figure. God knows it was that figure, and my ass, that drew my late husband to me, and he was more than happy with it.

As I said, my husband had been killed in a car accident about five years ago. David had been a wonderful husband, father to our son Kyle and just an all-around good man. He was also very successful in the financial business he ran out of our home.

We met at a charity fundraiser. It was one of those black tie affairs that you go to when you’re in your early twenties and don’t have the money to get a really nice dress; but being the bright girl I am I knew how to work it out so I could look as though I did have the money.

I guess I should take this moment to tell you that while my husband was wonderful, wonderful is not what drew me to him. What drew me to him was his wealth. My family has never been well off – in fact we are pretty close to being poor – actually we are poor.

To be honest with you, what may have kept him interested in me might well have been my figure, although he would have told you it was love at first sight but things turned out extremely well for both of us which is why I came up with the story about our love at first sight fantasy later on; it makes for great conversation around the water cooler and it never fails as he world can be like when they think two people were meant for one another.

So let’s see if I can get back on track here,,, Oh,, yes there it is: We met at this charity thing and danced all night together. After dancing more than half a dozen dances David had asked if he could call me because he would love for us to take dance lessons together so we could look good when we went out. He handed me his card with his home phone written on the back of his card. That number initially caught my attention before reading anything else there.

Within one year we were married. It was a blessed union, and I couldn’t imagine a happier life. When our child arrived, our little family was complete.

Our idyllic life was shattered by the recklessness of a drunk driver. Months passed as my husband lay in a coma, his body battered and broken beyond repair. And then, finally, he succumbed to his injuries. Though I knew he was now at peace, it was still difficult to accept. My 10-year-old son, Kyle, and I were both devastated by the loss of our beloved husband and father.

In the aftermath of my husband’s death, Kyle seemed to mature before my very eyes. He had always been a serious child, but now he took on even more responsibility around the house. Mowing the lawn, helping with chores, anything to keep busy and distract from the pain of losing his father. It was clear that he inherited his father’s traits - dedicated, loving, and selfless to a fault. There was nothing I could ask of him that he wouldn’t try his best to accomplish, even if it seemed beyond his capabilities. It was bittersweet to see my little boy growing up so quickly, but I couldn’t help but feel proud of the young man he was becoming. The loss of his father had forced him to grow up too soon, but it also brought out the best in him.

During the first year of not having my husband with us, I used to cry at night at how my child lost all of his carefree innocence, but he would come to me, put his arm around my shoulder and say. “It’s ok Mom, it’s ok.” in an attempt to comfort me, and that would spark another storm of weeping to which I would cling to my son as if for dear life. I suppose you could say that it was for dear life since as the days, months and years that passed I had come to depend more and more on him. He became the steady rock in which I could draw strength from, and he became my sole reason for living now, and there is nothing in this world that I would not do for him.

As the days turned into weeks and weeks into months, I watched my son grow into a young man. He had always been a responsible and caring child, but now he had a maturity and strength that I couldn’t help but admire. Kyle was becoming more and more like his father with every passing day.

I remember one night, after tucking him in bed, I heard soft sobs coming from his room. Worried, I went to check on him and found him sitting on the edge of his bed, tears streaming down his face. When I asked him what was wrong, he simply replied “I miss Dad.” In that moment, all of my own grief came rushing back to me as well. We sat together for hours, reminiscing about the happy times we shared with my husband.

From that night on, Kyle seemed to be more at peace with our loss. He would often talk about his father and how much he missed him, but there was also a newfound determination in him. He wanted to make his father proud and honor his memory by living up to the traits that made him such a great man.

As he approached his sixteenth birthday, I couldn’t believe how quickly time had flown by. Kyle was now taller than me and had broad shoulders from playing sports at school. His once boyish face now had slight stubble on the chin and his eyes held a maturity beyond his years.