I sat in my chair and pretended to read the newspaper as I listened to my husband counsel our eighteen-year-old son on the birds and bees. Jeff would be heading off to college at the end of the summer, and my husband was giving him advice on how to hook up with college girls.

I hid my smile behind the newspaper as I listened to my husband, “Look, Jeff, College girls are different from the high school girls you have been dating. They are away from home for the first time and go a little wild. And I do mean wild. I’ll tell you, I will never forget those days. I went a little wild myself.”

“What do you mean by wild, Dad?”

“Parties, drinking, girls everywhere. I tell you, son, it will be the best four years of your life.”

I could not help but chuckle as I listened to my husband, Bob. He was a senior, and I was a junior when I latched on to him at the State College. I would see him studying or leading his study group in the library. Christ, he wore reading glasses even back then. I thought he was cute as a button and quite intelligent, to boot. He was twenty-two, and I don’t think he dated more than two girls in his whole life before I decided he was the one.

After dating for a month, I practically had to drag him into my dorm room. We were lying on the bed and making out. I was on top of him, masturbating on his leg, and he still didn’t get it until I unzipped his pants and told him he was going to fuck me or find a new girlfriend. The wild college girls my husband was telling my son about was me.

Bob graduated with a degree in Computer Science and would go on to earn his Ph.D. I graduated with a degree in Advertising, and six months later, I dragged Bob to the Alter. He never knew what hit him. I told my family I had found the guy I wanted and took him home for the Christmas Holidays. Everybody was there—my mother, father, aunts, uncles, grandparents and cousins. Mom and my aunts fussed over him and fed him something he just had to try every hour of the day. Much to Bob’s surprise, my Mom and Dad put us in the same room to sleep that first night. By the end of the four days, they had us engaged. Gram sealed it for me when she asked him when we were going to get married.

Of course, Bob fell right into her trap as he hemmed and hawed, “Well, Mrs. Ford, that has never seriously come up.”

Gram raised her voice and shook her cane at Bob, “You’re sleeping with my granddaughter, and you will damn well marry her, or you’ll answer to me, young fella. She ain’t some floozy you picked up for a fling.”

Bob was flustered, and Gram was pretty pleased with herself.

That night in bed, Bob asked me, “Would you really want to marry me?” Like there was a chance, I would say no. I fucked that cute naive man that I fell in love with. I knew my mother, father, and everybody else who stayed over for the holidays could hear the bed springs squeaking. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how wild Bob ended up marrying me three months later. Jeff was born five days after our second wedding anniversary.

Now, the reason Bob is filling Jeff’s head with images of fun and parties is because our son is the spitting image of his father. He is just as handsome and smart, although my husband insists he is smarter, but just as clueless as his father was when it comes to girls. Jeff had a girlfriend in his high school senior year who ended their relationship after three months of trying to get him to go further than holding hands and kissing. She was even so frustrated she came to me asking what was wrong with her that she couldn’t get him to at least masturbate her when he got her all wound up. (She didn’t put it exactly like that, but I knew what she meant.)

You can imagine my shock that a sixteen-year-old would come to me for that kind of advice. But kids today sure can surprise you. She was a lovely girl, top of her class and eager to have sex with Jeff. I told her she would have to be more aggressive with him. Two weeks later, she was dating a varsity football player. So much for my sage advice.

My husband Bob has come a long way since we were married. He often initiates our sex play now. We even had a three-way with one of my girlfriends six years ago. She got married, and now we meet every few weeks and swap husbands for a night of fun. Bob and I have had brief affairs that we don’t hide from each other. I just ended one a couple of months ago. Bob is having an affair with one of his co-workers. We have talked about trying to get her to convince her husband to get involved with me. I met them at one of my husband’s work parties. They are both in their late thirties and quite the handsome couple.

Two weeks later, my son was off to college armed with my husband’s words of wisdom ringing in his ears.

His 1^st year didn’t go too well in the dating department. His grade point average made us proud. He complained about headaches when studying late at night. I took him to the optometrist, and he got his first pair of reading glasses. He looked so handsome and intellectual in his rimless reading glasses it made my nipples tingle.

I thought some girl would see through his shyness, the awkwardness and the handsome, brilliant boy that he is. I was sure he would come around just like his father did after he had a little experience. My husband was worried he was missing out just like he did, but I assured him he just hadn’t met the right girl yet. I was convinced there would be one very astute girl who would see what a catch he was. But alas, another year went by, and it was not to be.

It was nearing the end of the summer, Jeff would be starting his 3^rd year, and my husband was getting desperate, “You need to do something, Honey. Talk to him. Give him some advice. You know, like you did for me. Apparently, what I say is not helping.”

I had been confident that Bob could advise my son in the fine art of skirt chasing. However, Jeff’s social life was still confined to the library and an occasional night out with his friends for a beer or two.

I was still under the illusion that the right girl had not come along. After all, I didn’t notice Bob until he was 4^th year. But my husband was getting very worried, so I agreed to give it a go.

I came out of Jeff’s bedroom. I’m sure I looked somewhat out of it. My husband came over and asked, “Well, how did it go?”

“He fucked me.”

“Who fucked you?”

“Our son fucked me.” I smiled a crooked smile, “It was great.” I plopped down on the couch next to my husband. “He has a nice cock. I sucked it.”

“My God, Anne, you were only supposed to talk to him. You know, give him advice. Draw a diagram or something. Not fuck him and suck him off.”

I put my head on my husband’s shoulder and cuddled up to his side, “He wants to do it again, but I told him I would have to ask you.”

“Is that why he hasn’t come out of his bedroom yet?”

“Yes. Can I? He has a nice cock.”

“Are you saying you want to go back into his bedroom and fuck our son again?”