Size Matters
Copyright© 2013 by Swabby
Chapter 1
Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Peter's mother passes away and leaves him the responsibility of owning and operating a lingerie store. Is he up to the challenge? Can he remain a gentleman with all those temptations? Do we want him to?
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/ft Romantic Heterosexual Humor First Masturbation Petting Size Big Breasts Slow
My name is Peter Stromm and I was sitting in my business math class when the instructor received a note from a student assistant. He looked up at me and said "Peter, you need to go to the office."
"Yes Sir, I said as I grabbed my books and headed for the door. At the office they handed me a phone message from Margret Ross, my mother's store manager. It said simply to get home as soon as possible. I was going to a 4 year community college just ten miles from home so it was only minutes before I got there.
I knew it wasn't good when I arrived. There was a fire truck, a rescue truck, an ambulance AND a police car in front of the house. Any one of those would have sent a stab of fear through my heart. Four of them and I just knew it was very bad.
Margret was waiting and stopped me in the vestibule, "Good, you're here. You don't need to go in there now. Your mother has had a stroke. I came by to check on her this morning when she didn't show up at the shop."
"How is she, is she going to be alright?"
"We don't know for sure, but it seems to have been a bad one. She was making breakfast evidently and had a sudden stroke and she passed right out on the floor. They don't have much hope. She was on the floor for at least 2 — hours before I got there. That's not good."
"Oh no, what about the store?" I asked.
"It's well cared for. One of the girls was in and it's always slow on a weekday before 3 pm. I will head back now that you're here. Will you be able to cope with what's going on?"
"I can't answer that. She is my whole world. Besides being my mom, she's been my best friend."
"Well, you need to get a grip. It doesn't look good..." she said as they wheeled out a gurney with an IV and some electronic equipment attached to it.
"Are you Peter Stromm?" A policeman asked.
"Yes, she's my mother."
"They are taking her to Presbyterian Hospital down on Oak street. You should lock up here after we are done and head down there."
"OK."
That's the beginning of the story of how my mom passed on. She hung on for two days, but she never came out of it. I held her hand when I could but I was often chased out. I was told it was a massive stroke they said and it was probably better this way. She would have been a severe burden. Problem was I was now alone, so very much alone. People were coming at me with decisions needing to be made and I felt like I was constantly under bombardment.
Mother had a small insurance policy of $100,000 but one fifth got swallowed up by the funeral home. Mom has been in the wrong business, it seemed death paid better. Her store sold lingerie. What was I going to do with that? Then there was the funeral itself. Which casket? Open or closed? Where should she be buried? Oh, she wanted to be cremated? One shock after another with Margret and Mom's lawyer constantly bothering me to make decisions.
When it was all finished, I sat in the house for three days. I was barely eating and certainly not cogent of what was going in anymore. I was out of it. She was Mom and I never even got to say goodbye or tell her I loved her. I knew that she knew, just like I know she loved me but there was a lot of guilt and loneliness.
The doorbell rang and I answered it to find Margret at the door. She started pointing at me and asking questions about what I was doing. Did I plan to come into the store?
"Come into the store? For what?"
"It's Friday and the paychecks need to be signed. The bookkeeping service took care of writing them, but you need to come in and sign them and we need some decisions on a few other items at the store, until you decide what your going to do with it, it's still your store."
I didn't know it, but I was being suckered at the time. Margret was fully able to run the store without my help, but she knew I had led a sheltered life and I would be years getting over my mothers unexpected passing if allowed to sit and mope as I had been doing the past several days.
I inherited the store. It took most of the rest of the insurance money to pay the state inheritance tax. Luckily mom's tax man had been smart enough over the years to depreciate most of the store furnishings so I mostly paid inheritance taxes for the stock currently on the shelves.
