Chapter 1

It was a time when people were looking to the future. The war was over and now peace would reign forever. Progress and prosperity for all. Or so we imagined. California was The Golden State. San Diego was the birthplace of California. It was 1953, and the world was opening up in wonderful ways. It was for me as well.

My father was an engineer at a company called Convair. It built aircraft. We lived in the San Diego area. Chula Vista, to be exact. I had turned eighteen years old in January. My senior year was over in a month. I was ready to meet the challenges. I would be going to college at San Diego State College. I could live at home.

The weather was grand, and the city was lovely. My stepmother was a housewife. Even though she had been a great mother to me, I still called her Cindy. She never minded, I don't think. Not a lot of women worked then. Salaries seemed adequate to support a family with a stay-at-home mother. I had two stepsisters, as well.

My father had adopted the girls. I suppose they were legally my sisters. And Cindy had adopted me, too. But still, I always thought of them as stepmother and stepsisters. And I loved them dearly.

Both girls had left home already. Sheila was married to her high school sweetheart. She was twenty-two years old now. Maggie was away at college. She was at SDSC too, but she had moved into her own apartment, near the campus. She was a year older than me. I missed them. Both of them were brunettes, and had long, wavy hair. They were beautiful. I thought so anyway.

We had become one family about ten years ago. My birth mother died from cancer. My father married a woman who had lost her husband to the same disease. They met at the hospital during visits there. I remembered my mother, and I still missed her once in awhile. But Cindy, my stepmother, had been good to me. She was a lovely woman, too. I loved this family, and I loved the way our relationships were changing, now that I was an adult.

I didn't know it at the time, but my father married Cindy to help her more than anything. He felt sorry for her, because she was a widow with two young daughters. Anyway, that's what he told me the night I turned eighteen. He'd had a little too much to drink celebrating my birthday. We were sitting in the back yard sipping beer, and he had opened up.

Actually, that was when he let me know that I was an accident. I think he was implying that he would have never married my mother if she hadn't become pregnant. Then she worked to get him through college. They had been a good team, but I felt that they had not really loved each other. Not in a physical way, anyway. That was just my impression. But it made me think.

It seemed to me that his marriage to Cindy was similar. They worked well together but there never seemed to be any passion. I don't remember them ever kissing in front of the girls and me. I couldn't help thinking that Cindy might have been happier with another man. This was before women's lib, and women didn't seem to really search for physical happiness. At least, looking back, that seems true.

But this all had opened my eyes to something. You understand, I loved my stepmother. But I also had some physical desires, too. And I really enjoyed seeing her around the house. She usually wore house dresses, but sometimes, when it was hot out, she would decide to leave her bra off. Our house was a stucco bungalow, and it didn't really have great air conditioning. Just a window unit, which wasn't that good at keeping us cool.

At school we didn't learn about sex at all. What we learned was from our friends, who didn't always get the information straight. I found out how much I didn't know on the weekend I became eighteen. I had a girlfriend, and she decided to let me do things with her, as a birthday present. I think now that she wanted a little fun herself. But she would never have said that. Not back then.

Belinda and I had spent lots of time kissing, and touching a little. I got to squeeze her tits a few times, and we french kissed for hours sometimes. But she had never let me touch her pussy inside her panties, and she hadn't played with my dick, ever. But this night she let me get a finger in her pussy, and she jacked me off. I came really quickly, and got it on her dress. She was a little pissed. But it passed.

We broke up soon after that. I guess she had discovered her own desires, because she started dating a baseball player on the varsity team. They were still a couple as graduation approached. And I was feeling urges that made me jerk off almost every night after I went to bed. Sometimes I thought about Belinda. But most of the time it was Cindy I would think about as I shot my cum.

That was my real world knowledge of sex. What it had done was arouse a need for more. More knowledge, and more actual sex, if I could get it. I had started looking at Cindy in a new way. Her long, brown hair made me want to touch it. Her bouncing tits, when she walked around the house, caused my prick to tingle. Her smile, with the red lipstick she wore, made me want to kiss her. I will just say it. I wanted to fuck her. The way people screwed in the dirty cartoon booklets we passed around at school.

We had a two bedroom house. It was modest, but we had been comfortable. I don't think I had ever heard Dad or Cindy making love. The girls and I had shared a bedroom. There were two sets of bunk beds. The girls both slept on the bottom beds, and I switched to either upper bunk, depending on what game I was playing. Until I got older and stuck to just one. When Sheila left I took a lower bed. Then I had the room to myself when Maggie moved out.

It may seem strange now, but we had been perfectly happy like that. Although, I do remember the girls complaining to Cindy that I was rather messy. And they sometimes yelled at me to stop squirming around, and making noise, while they were trying to sleep. I admit that I would often jerk off in a sock when I thought they were asleep. Now, with the room to myself, I could rub one out whenever I pleased.

One afternoon I arrived home early because the teachers were having some kind of meeting. We would be graduating soon and they had plans to make. I walked home from high school because I didn't have a car. Besides, it was only seven blocks. I took my time, enjoying the smell of the oleander blooming in front of most bungalow houses. The roses were bursting out too, as they did almost year round here. And palm trees lined the streets, while the insects buzzed in the spring air.

Anyway, I came in the house and started back to my room. I thought I heard the insects buzzing again as I went down the hall to my room. Cindy and Dad's bedroom door was slightly ajar, and the noise was coming from in there. I peeked into the room, around the door jamb. It was the turning point in my life. I believed it then, and I know it now.

Cindy was lying on the bed. She had her dress on, but it was pulled all the way up to her waist. Her panties were around her ankles. She was propped up on pillows and I could see she had one hand on a breast. Her hair was hanging down behind, as her head was flung back. Her mouth was open and I could hear her as she moaned.

Her other hand was rubbing something against her pussy. It seemed to be making the sounds I heard. It was touching her and then going in and out of her slit. She was fucking herself with what I later learned was a vibrator. I could see her body shaking. I unzipped my jeans. My cock was getting hard very quickly. I fished it out and started to jack off.

My strokes were strong but slow at first. God, you have no idea how good it made me feel. She was right there, almost naked, and I could see her hairy pussy. I was hard as hell, and life was great. I started jerking faster. I wanted to cum before she stopped. I don't know how long she had been doing things to herself. I just wanted to make my prick cum before she finished. I was getting closer. It was going to shoot. Fuck! It tried to spurt out, and I covered the head with my hand. As I turned to quickly move away I tripped on the carpet runner.