Chapter 11: Summer Vacation

I had planned on playing baseball in the summer league with most of my high school teammates, but a letter arrived with bad news. I could play in the summer league, but only at the under 16 level. I was devastated, and reacted by deciding that I wasn't going to play at all if I couldn't play with the 16 and over group.

This decision caused my mother to scramble like crazy to find something for me to do during the summer vacation. Her boyfriend, yeah, the married guy, who shall remain nameless since he is still married to the same woman, arranged for us to visit Wrightsville Beach, North Carolina where he had a few very good friends.

At the airport in Wilmington, Mom and I were welcomed by the Skillington's, Howard and Nora.

"We're so happy to meet you," Mr. Skillington said, giving me a bone crushing handshake.

"Yes, any friend of _______'s is certainly a friend of ours," Mrs. Skillington said giddily. She was old enough to be my mother, although I later learned that she was five years younger. But why split hairs. She was definitely an older woman, especially to my fifteen year-old eyes.

Moments later, I realized that she had had a few drinks in her and it was only one in the afternoon.

Mom said a few things about _______ to cement our new friendship, and we were off to their home at the beach.

Now Wrightsville Beach has some humongous palaces whose owners laughingly call cottages, or villas. But to me, anyplace with more than eight bedrooms and ten bathrooms is anything but a cottage, or villa.

My mother and I each had our own bedroom and private bath. They were the size of a typical master bedroom in a $400,000 home. I tell you this to give you a perspective of this house's size. I never asked what the square footage was, but would guess it had to be at least 6000 square feet. But hey, I was only fifteen at the time. What did I know?

That night there was a big bash at which mom and I were quasi-guests of honor. The real guest of honor was the mayor of Wilmington, who appeared to be a decent enough guy. I was surprised to find myself holding a scotch and soda, put in my hand by Mr. Skillington himself.

"We can't have you bouncing around drinking RC Cola, or whatever the current flavor of the month is," he said genially, and left me standing there looking at my hand.

I took a sip and grimaced. The bartender came to my rescue, taking the drink from me and handing me a Pepsi in a glass similar to the one he'd taken from me. I thanked him and he laughed.

"Maybe Mr. Skillington can drink that stuff all night, but I don't think you can ... or even want to. How old are you?"

When I told him I was fifteen, he blanched. "Christ, I could have sworn you were at least seventeen. A couple beers I could see, but fifteen ... wow! Well, you don't look it."

"I had a growth spurt a month or so ago," I said.

"Yeah, I can see that," he replied.

Then a threesome moved in on us and the bartender got busy making them a variety of drinks. I wandered off, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible.

At dinner, Mrs. Skillington sat between my mother and me. I was bringing the fork to my mouth when I felt her hand on my thigh. To my credit I didn't jump, nor did I make a sound. I slowly swallowed the morsel on my tongue and then turned to Mrs. Skillington and said, "You have such a lovely home, Mrs. Skillington. I don't think I've ever seen anything like it."

I could sense my mother preening at my sudden loquaciousness for normally I was all about shrugs and nods.

"How kind of you to say it," she replied. "Please call me, Nora," she said, as her hand kept moving up and finally settled on my dick, which was rapidly rising under her skillful tutoring.

Turning to my mother, Nora said, "I can't believe this young man," while at the same time she squeezed my dick. "is only fifteen years old. He's so tall ... a mite thin, but I expect he'll fill out quickly." As she spoke, her fingernail was gliding along the length of my shaft, followed by another, longer squeeze.

I was filling out all right.

My mother, quite pleased with the compliments I was receiving from our hostess, said, "Well Aubrey is working out almost daily with weights and such. He's an excellent dancer, and plays baseball for his high school team."

"A dancer!" Mrs. Skillington gushed. "You must favor me with a tango. Do you know the tango, Aubrey?"

It was difficult for me to speak as she had a firm grasp on my dick, and was in fact, jerking me off in a rudimentary fashion, me being seated and with my dick still under wraps.

Finally, I managed to blurt, "Yes ... I can do a tango."

"Wonderful, she said happily, "I shall speak to the orchestra leader, he'll play one or two for us later."

I hadn't known an orchestra was to play. I began to realize just how wealthy the Skillington's were at that point.

Mrs. Skillington relinquished her grip on me and, except for the occasional reminder-like squeeze, allowed me to finish my dinner in peace. She also allowed some thirty minutes to elapse after the meal during which she made sure to chat with each of the guests. I resumed my wall-flower status by the balcony over looking the garden.

But she had not forgotten me; and after what she apparently decided was an appropriate time, she 'discovered' me on the balcony, coming up behind me as I stared out at the magnificent flowers below. The sweet, hot tang of her alcoholic breath on the back of my neck alerted me to her presence. Imperceptibly, she nudged her breasts into my shoulder blades. I turned, my arm glancing over each breast in turn.

I knew perfectly well that Mrs. Skillington was sober enough, and that she was only pretending when she'd walked across the room earlier on somewhat unsteady feet.

"Forgive me?" she asked in a teasing little voice.

"Oh, sure, Mrs. Skillington," I said quickly.

"Mrs. Skillington!" she said, as one would scold a child. "We're both adults, and my name is Nora! Got it?"

"Um, yes ma'am. I ... I'm terribly sorry ... Nora."

"That's better," she replied stuffily.

"I was admiring your garden," I said, backing away, in the unlikely event that I had in fact been rubbing against her generous breasts without her tacit permission.