Chapter 1

It was a sunny and warm May afternoon as I sat staring out the window, trapped in my senior chemistry class with little hope of sneaking out early. Only one week of school remaining and then I’ll be free. Graduation! I’ve looked forward to this day for ... well since I can remember, and it’s almost here. I just have to get through finals, and while I am a pretty good student, lately it had been difficult, if not impossible, to keep my mind on studies. It seems I am daydreaming more and more. Mostly dreaming about how I am going to spend my last summer before I head off to college. But I’m also thinking about my mom. I wonder how she is going to get along without me. I’ve been the man of the house since my Dad left almost five years ago and now I will be leaving her too. The thought is so depressing that it has nearly ruined my excitement over the end of twelve long years of school.

Sure, Mom says she’ll be fine. She always says that. But I know how much she depends on me. Although she is still young at 37 (I was born when she was 19) and, if I say so myself “hot”, she doesn’t date or have a man around, other than me, to fix things and take care of the car and such. Keeping the house running is my job and I don’t mind the responsibility. In fact, I love it. She and I have a very special relationship and are very close—we are more like friends than mother and son. We have leaned on each other exclusively over the past few years; through my adolescence crises and her more important adult concerns ... like how we were going to pay the bills.

When Dad ran off with his secretary, he left us nothing, and even worse, Mom was emotionally crushed and for a long time I hated him for that. He burst my bubble of a happy family and hurt my mom terribly. But I don’t hate him anymore. His leaving is the reason my mother and I grew so close. Since he’s been gone, I’ve made sure she didn’t miss him. At least in all the ways a young boy can act as the man of the house. I learned to fix things, helped with finances by getting a part time job to pay for clothes and minor school expenses, and just being there when she needed someone’s shoulder to cry on. And she did plenty of that. I have a couple of shirts on which she shed her tears and, although I should throw them out, they are still in my closet as a reminder that I never want to hurt her like that. Oh, and yes I’m just a little embarrassed to say that I also have a couple pair of her panties hidden in my dresser that I stole from the hamper.

As I said, my mother is hot, and if you haven’t guessed already, I have a major crush on her. She is gorgeous and not just because I say so. All of my buddies say she is by far the hottest and coolest mom of any they know. She’s about five-six with large round eyes that change from an aqua blue to sky blue depending on the outfit she is wearing, and they twinkle like stars. She keeps her dyed red hair at shoulder length and curled under stylishly. Her figure is perfect, but I will tell you more about that in a moment. At 37 she easily passes for her late 20’s. Some say we could pass for brother and sister; and of course she loves it when I tell her that.

On her 37^th birthday I surprised her with a birthstone ring and necklace. She had no idea that I was getting her anything, but I had saved up my extra spending money—seven hundred dollars—and spent it all. I know she liked the necklace and ring because she said so when we saw it at a jewelry store at the mall one afternoon. I worked hard to save up the money and purchasing the ring and necklace was probably the most exciting moment of my life up to that time. I had it specially wrapped at the store in pretty paper with a red bow.

When I gave it too her she began to cry. For a moment I thought I had made a big mistake. But her tears were tears of joy. She said I shouldn’t have spent so much money but she loved it and loved me. That statement alone made it all worth it. She said she was going to wear the ring always. I was surprised when she put it on her left ring finger where she used to wear a wedding band. That was special to me as well.

I guess it is time to admit that I have been fantasizing about my mom a lot lately. Recently I actually got the nerve to spy on her. I had resisted the incredible sexual hormones raging in me until I accidentally saw her undressing in her bedroom. I went to her room to ask if she needed anything before I went to bed. Her door was opened just a crack. Before I could knock, I saw her standing near her vanity. I had seen her in her nightgowns and such and she had seen me in my underwear plenty of times, but this was the first time I had seen her totally naked. I still have the image of her slim waist and tapered hips with the smooth perfect white skin of her ass burned into my memory bank. I don’t think I have ever seen a more perfect ass.

When she bent over to pick up her panties my heart almost jumped out of my chest when I realized that I could see the lips of her pussy between her slightly spread thighs. And, incredibly, she didn’t have a speck of pubic hair, none—baby smooth. The inner lips were pale pink and hung between the smooth shaven outer lips like the delicate petals of a rose ... a gorgeous pink rose with the petals shimmering with morning dew. The outer lips were puffy flesh colored mounds and seemed to strain to contain her longer inner lips.