Chapter 69: Mother’s Day

May 7, 1981

Better late than never. Angie and I were talking after school.

“Ang, I’ve got an idea for Mother’s Day. Well, a few ideas.”

“Oh! I’m in! Whatever I can do to help!”

“We need cards, flowers, and maybe a balloon. Those are easy. I’ve got a recipe that I’ve cooked often. Just, never this time around. They’re pretty much individual Beef Wellingtons. It’s surprisingly easy.”

“Sounds awesome.”

“So, we need something. Maybe asparagus, maybe Brussels sprouts. Roasted. And any other side dishes Mom might want. We stash the ingredients way back in the fridge with a ‘Surprise! Do not open!’ label in case she finds them. Then we kick her out of the kitchen after church, cook, serve, and pamper.”

“Awesome, big brother! She’s gonna love it. And it’s, you know, only a bit over the top. Or, maybe, it’s over the top in time and effort, which is the right way, not just spending a ton.”

“Exactly. That’s what I want. Just make her feel as special as she is.”

“How much time does it take to cook yours?”

“An hour, or so, start to finish.”

“Cool!”

“Let’s swing by the Randall’s on Saturday and round stuff up. I hate to wait until the last minute, but the risk of getting discovered is high.”

“Works for me. And the Hallmark, if the Randall’s doesn’t have any cards we like.”

“You get veto power over the cards. Though I need one totally ‘dumb boy’ card.”

“Because you are a totally dumb boy.”

“Yup!”

May 10, 1981

“Well, I don’t know what you kids have been doing in my kitchen, but it smells good, anyway! You’re going to put me out of a job!”

Angie laughed. “Never, Mom! That’s the whole point — we love what you do and we want to show it.”

“Well, I know, but this seems excessive.”

“It’s just time and love. Something you’ve given us a hundred times over.”

“Well, all right.”

Angie finished putting glasses out — sparkling grape juice, a family favorite (Mom and Dad had a very occasional glass of wine, but that’s it) — and went back to help me. I had the steaks ready, each with a little pastry letter — H, S, A, S — on plates. I had carved a little t next to my S. Angie served Brussels sprouts onto each plate. She had a cake cooling; it looked terrific. I brought out the plates and served them; Mom first, then Dad, then Angie, and finally my own. Mom was staring at hers as if she couldn’t quite figure it out.

“Oh my, that looks ... wonderful. I love Brussels sprouts. But what is it? I mean the pastry?”

“You’ll see. And I’m sure you’ll like it.”

Angie fetched the flowers, I fetched the cards.

“Oh my! This is all too much!”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Me neither, Mom.”

Dad chimed in, “Nor I. You deserve every bit of it, honey.”

Angie and I sat, and Dad said grace. Then Angie and I, holding hands, looked at Mom. “We love you, Mom!”

Mom, sniffling a bit, smiled at us. “I love you kids. So much!”

“Now, let’s see if this turned out like I hope. Mom, you try first.”

“Well, OK. Cut it with a steak knife? It smells like steak.”

“Yes,” I smiled.

She cut into it. “Oh! It’s like Beef Wellington! But, individual!” She took a bite. “Oh! This is terrific! How did you even think of this!?”

“I saw a recipe using frozen pastry dough. I decided I had to try it, and, here it is.”

“Well, my goodness. This is amazing!”

Everyone dug in, chatting away. Mom tore open her cards, sniffled at the serious ones, laughed at my totally dumb boy card. Angie served the cake, which was terrific — German chocolate, Mom’s favorite. Mom finally shooed us off to study group, with the admonition that moms like straight A’s too.

I thought Mom and Dad might take advantage of the time to celebrate a bit as well.

Nancy had a familiar message for me in study group. “Sorry, Steve. I’m out of commission today. You know how that is, I’m sure.”

I nodded. “Of course.”

“But, there’s good news.”

“Oh?”

“With my usual timing, I should be all done before our last week together.”

“Definitely good news!”

“Would you like to, um ... I mean, I could...”

“If you want to, for you, I’m hardly going to say no. And you might, I know you.” She giggled and winked. “But we could also study hard and be in a good position later.”

She bit her lip. “Study now, hard later. I’m going to attack you Tuesday, even if it’s completely one-sided!”

“Far be it from me to complain!”

May 12, 1981

Another minor divergence, but not so minor in its significance, maybe. Today was the spring TEES trip. Ms. Symms had tried to get me to go. I’d thought about it and decided to pass. I knew it would disappoint her. It disappointed me, too.

One factor was, of course, the likelihood that it would have cost me time with Nancy. But, by itself, that’d have been OK, even with Nancy leaving and time precious.

The bigger factor was that I’d realized that I no longer needed what TEES and other math competitions had given me before. They scratched my itch to travel and compete, but that was it. I wasn’t a member of a team; they’re one-shot events and there’s not much preparation or practice, and the competition is entirely individual. Something like Academic Decathlon or the like would be different, but these?

I’d passed them by, now. I had too much in my life already to need to fill spaces with things I no longer really valued. It was sad, but also inevitable.

Nancy’s playground was still out of commission. However, she decided I needed a little attention. Not for the first time amongst the couples, we just took over a pool house shower.

I looked down at her face, adorable, lips parted, tongue swirling over my cock. “MMmmmmm yummmmy”. She grinned, licking, kissing, starting to suck as I hardened rapidly. Her fingers very gently teasing my balls, she slurped me in, bobbing her head, eyes shining. I moaned deep. “O ... oh ... Nancy ... sweetheart ... that’s so ... amazing.”

“MMmmmm I want it ... give me your cum, Steve ... please ... please!”

It is amazingly difficult to disagree with a girl who loves you, and who you love right back, begging for you to cum in her mouth. And what would be the point in denying her what she wants, anyway?

“N ... Nancy ... soon ... soon!”

“Yesssss!”

Her mouth sucked harder at me, tongue wiggled, lips pressed. I exploded. “Unnnggghggghhh!”

Spurt after spurt, watching as her eyes twinkled. She flicked her mouth open to show me, then swallowed. Then grinned, licked her lips, and started licking and sucking at me, seeing what she could find.

Again, hard to argue with.

After a bit, I guided her up to my lap, kissing, deep.

Then, with my own impish look, I unbuttoned her jeans, unzipped them, and wiggled them down, stopping her when she tried to stop me. “Steve! Steve!!! Messy!”

“We’re in a shower. It’ll be fine.”

“Steve! It’s ... ohhhh!”

My fingers slipped into her panties and found her lips, rubbing, teasing. “N ... nuh ... I ... we ... shouldn’t...”

“But I want to.”

“Uuunnnnngggghhhh!”

Suddenly she growled and kissed me twice as hard. I teased, rubbed her lips, pressing the palm of my hand on her clit. Just lightly at first. The kiss grew even more, her tongue chasing mine.

“Ooh! My god! Steve!!!”

I shifted my hand up a little, used my fingers to tease just to either side of her clit. Her growling grew, deepened. Frustrated. Needing.

“More ... oh, I can’t ... I, more, more, more. Now!!!”

I brushed a finger over her clit, then again. Again, with a little more pressure.

“GGAAAAHHHHHHH!” My mouth cut her off, kissing, deep. “MMMPPPHHHHHHHHHH!”

I didn’t let up, bringing to a second, then a third. On the third she couldn’t tell if she wanted me to stop or push harder, her hands fluttering to try to push mine away, then pull it in.

“AAAIIIEEEEEEEEE!”

She sagged into my arms. I removed my hand. Barely anything. She was nearly done, and the tampon that was her primary defense was working. I imagined her pad — she had both — would be a little worse for wear.

Being careful of the hand until I could wash it, I held her close, stroking, until her eyes opened.

“I ... I just ... I can’t believe you did that! I wouldn’t do that! And I want to! A lot!”

“It’s just a little blood and tissue. Compared to making you happy, why would I care?”

“Oh, my god that was ... amazing! I get so ... um...” She turned red. “ ... horny. When it’s that time. Especially later in things.”

“See, I told you I wanted to. And I was right.”

“Yes! Yes you were! Oh my god! Wow!”

“I love you, Nancy.”

“I love you!!!”

We cleaned up, fixed our clothes, and headed back. Still a lot of studying to be done. But far more relaxed.

Angie snuggled. “You seriously did?”

“As I said to her, it’s a little blood and tissue. I’m not letting that stop me from making her happy.”

“I believe the proper term is ‘blowing her mind’ into a million tiny pieces.”

“Which reassembled themselves prior to studying.”

“Probably.” She giggled. “I’ve done that, you know, during. Sometimes I get horny, too. I mean, during. But it’s really different having someone else do it for you.”

“You can say that again.”

“It’s really different having someo...” Whap! “Hey! That’s my thing!”

“So? I stole it fair and square.”

“So, was this... ?”

“Determination to get all the time we could? A bit. Some of it was that I knew she really, really wanted to take care of me. Which is also about getting all the time we can, but it’s more than that. It felt like I would be cruel if I didn’t let her take care of me. Which is something that lends itself quite well to self-justification, but, it was pretty clear she wanted to, for herself. But I couldn’t just let that go, either, not when it’s that easy to do something that I love doing for her. Or, just, I wanted to take care of her just as much as she wanted to take care of me.”

“Pure win-win,” she giggled.

“It just amuses me. There are a lot of things about sex that seem ... icky ... but aren’t. That counts. I can wash my hand. Big deal.”

“Well, she’s pretty grateful. And blown away.”

“Nah, that was me.”

Whap! Angie smirked at me. “OK, bedtime, big brother. Too much to do this week!”

“Just think, after next week we’re done, done, done.”

“Yay!”

“Until next year.”

“Boo!”

“Night, little sis.”

“Night, big brother.”

May 16, 1981

I settled into ‘my’ chair in Dr. Stanton’s office. She smiled at me, notes handy, pen ready.

“I spoke to your mother. You know that. She let me know about your travel plans.”

“I was a bit surprised when she decided she approved. But I imagine she has her reasons.”

“And those are?”

“Hers,” I laughed. “But I would guess that she felt declaring that she doesn’t trust us would send us the message that there’s no point in being trustworthy, whereas giving us trust and asking us to live up to that, and make promises to that effect, challenges us to be trustworthy. In either case, if we weren’t, we’d find a way. How many ministers’ daughters, kept under figurative lock and key, turn up pregnant anyway?”

“Interesting take on it. And, will you be trustworthy?”

“I believe so. It’s of course possible that circumstances could overwhelm us, but I don’t believe they will. We’re both committed to keeping our promises.”

“And those are?”

“Deceptively vague. On face value: behave ourselves, not run around too late at night, bother other passengers or hotel guests. Things like that.”

“Which you could meet while doing things your mother would think were wrong.”

“That’s why I said deceptively. Ang and I both know just what ‘behave ourselves’ means. Mom knows we know. We could of course hide things. Maybe. But then we’d need to lie to Mom and you, and also to ourselves, about being trustworthy. Not worth it. I mean to keep my promises. Ang says that she means to as well, and I believe her.”