Katrin turned onto her back and stared up at Peter's bedroom ceiling as he lay next to her in anticipation. She took a deep breath and tried to mentally transport herself fifteen years into the past and over a thousand miles away.
"Okay, Peter. Here it goes..."
****
My mom, known around my hometown neighborhood as Miss G, was a tall blonde Swedish woman--a classic beauty with a wavy shoulder-length hairdo and naturally large breasts that she was not so generous to pass on to me. My parents divorced when I was a toddler and my dad, a Financial Consultant--whatever that is--moved away permanently to work in Germany. He left the two of us behind in Sarasota, Florida, which was probably for the better. At least we never had to worry about money.
Our house was a little too big for two people and with the exception of irregular visits from my aunts, it was eerily quiet on most days. After high school graduation and before moving away to college I spent a final, and especially memorable, summer at the house.
Mom rarely said a bad word about dad and seemed very content to stay single. Only in her mid-30's it was like she was already retired. She spent entire days just tanning outside in her tiny blue bikini and doing her aerobics videos. She collected all of the hilarious infomercial workout equipment that late 90's had to offer, as if she needed it with her body.
Mom was very flirtatious and she was quite popular around the neighborhood, although, not so much with the other moms. Our pool, like all the pools in the area, was protected by a transparent screen shelter to keep out hurricane debris and the occasional gator, but that didn't prevent the guys from leering while she laid out for a tan. I had to chase away neighborhood boys on more than one occasion.
Compared to the smoldering femininity of mom, I was a shy, skinny tomboy. At age eighteen my breasts maxed out in the A-B cup range and I was very insecure about it. I kept my hair in a ponytail all the time and rounded my look with a pair of nerdy glasses. To make matters worse, I had to wear braces for my entire senior year.
I avoided boys for the most part, but still had a few innocent dates here and there. I was quick to break it off with guys after they showed interest in my mom, which they always did. She was shameless with the guys that I brought home, walking around in her bikini and flirting with them. I stopped dating altogether during my last year at home. No homecoming, no prom, and my stupid virginity still intact.
Mom was outraged by the almost non-existent sex education in our school and we awkwardly went over the birds and the bees together when I was very young. I thought that it would all be over after that harrowingly graphic conversation, but she continued to talk about "the sex," as she called it, every time it popped into her head, and that was quite often.
When I wasn't cringing from our sex talks, I was cringing from listening to her do it. She brought home younger men regularly and our bedrooms were right next to each other. She was fairly quiet herself, but the men were
very
loud, groaning for what seemed like hours at a time. I got well acquainted with the couch in the reading room on the other side of the house, which is where I would usually escape to.
"What the hell was going on in there last night," I had the courage to ask one time when she was running a brush through my hair. She insisted on doing this multiple times a week even though I would just tie it back up the second she was done brushing.
"Do you know what the name Kaht-rin means?" mom replied, dodging my question. She always pronounced my name properly in her Swedish accent. Everyone at school called me Kay-trin and that's still what I go by. I didn't want to go through life correcting people.
"It means to be pure, or purity. You can blame your father for that one."
"Mom, that doesn't answer--"
"Do you know what my name, Gertrud, means?" she continued.
"What?"
"Spear Maiden," she said with a naughty laugh. "We come from a long line of spear maidens, Katrin. Do you really want to know why the men keep coming back and why they groan all night in my room? Perhaps I'll show you some day."
"Show me what?" I asked, regrettably.
"I'll show you what happens when an Olsson woman puts a cock in her mouth. We have a gift."
"Oh gross!" I said with hands on my ears, trying desperately to think of anything other than my mother sucking on some guy's dick. From then on out, with every late night visitor and every audible groan coming through the wall, it would be impossible to strike that image from my head.
****
Something came over me during my last summer at home. I suppose it dawned on me that I would be moving really far away and I made an attempt to spend more time with my mom. We cooked dinner together, we did her
Buns of Steel
tape together, and I even got myself a skimpy pink bikini to lay out in with her by the pool.
"Katrin, did I tell you who I finally met the other day?" Mom asked as we laid by the pool in reclining lawn chairs on a particularly hot and sweaty afternoon.
"Who?" I asked fearfully, fully aware that she intended to introduce herself to our new neighbors.
I had a painful crush on the guy next door since the day his family moved in. He was tall and athletic with blonde hair and gorgeous blue eyes. From what I could tell, he was the only child, just like me. During the last few days I managed to see him unloading moving boxes, helping his mom with the groceries and my favorite--mowing the lawn with his shirt off. I just knew that mom already snuck over there with some homemade butter cookies in one of her slutty dresses, flirting with the guys and instantly making a "frienemy" out of the mom, like she always did. Yep, I was sure she met the neighbors.
"I met the neighbors!" Mom announced proudly. I cursed under my breath. "They're from Australia and, in case you're wondering, the boy's name is Eric," mom explained with a suspicious smile. "Such a nice young man and he's your age. Don't you think he's sexy, Katrin?"
"Mom! Please, please, please, just leave the neighbors alone."
"I'm sorry, sötis," Mom said as she flipped on to her stomach and untied her bikini top. Sötis is like saying "dear" or "sweetie" in Swedish.
"I've already worked out an arrangement with his mother," she explained to my horror. "He is going to be mowing lawns in the neighborhood and I told her that we would be happy to pay for his services. He'll be over this afternoon."
"Why didn't you warn me?!" I asked, suddenly feeling like I should run and hide. "Mom, you know we don't need anyone to mow our lawn!"
"Oh, you have a crush," Mom replied knowingly. "You're eighteen now and you're moving away to college. You can't just keep hiding from boys--you'll never learn anything that way. You need to get experience while you're still young. When I was your age, back in Sweden, I was already very familiar with the male anatomy."
"Please, Mom," I begged. "I don't want to know any more about you and the male anatomy."
"But it's true, sötis. I experimented with a variety of different cocks and learned how to make them squirt with my mouth and hands, like a true Spear Maiden," she said with a laugh.
"Okay, I'm leaving," I said as I got up from the lawn chair in frustration. She grabbed me by the arm and took off her sunglasses, giving me a genuinely sad look.
