Author's Note: This tale includes sexual activity with two young men. Each is a recent High School graduate. Therefore, it is possible to infer that they are either seventeen (if their birthdays are after the events in the story) or eighteen (if their birthdays are before the events in the story). I assure the reader that both young men celebrated their birthdays prior to graduation and both are eighteen years of age at the time of the events described.
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I was born in 1978. My mother named me Amanda but everyone, except my mother, calls me Mandy. 1978 was after Woodstock and after the last man walked on the moon. The seventies birthed the women's movement, the gay liberation movement and the sexual revolution and I missed it all.
Don't get me wrong. I did have opportunities. While I was too young in the seventies and eighties, some remnants of the sexual revolution survived into the nineties, when I was in high school. As you might conclude, my mother wasn't very flexible in her attitude. She watched me like a hawk, ready to sweep down and devour any boy who showed "carnal" interest in me. The opportunities disappeared with the boys.
At first I didn't understand her attitude. After all, she and Dad met and courted in the seventies. How could they have missed the dominant social imperatives of the decade, free sex and open marriage? Only much later, when I was in my twenties, did I learn a few facts about my mother. During a family outing at a lake in Minnesota, my aunt, Lori, my mother's sister, listened as I lamented my lack of experience and blamed my mother.
Contrary to what I believed, my mother and father didn't miss the sexual revolution at all. They were very active, maybe more than most. It was when several of her friends became pregnant and opted for, recently legal, abortions, and one of them nearly died in the process, that she began to think about their lifestyle. After she had a pregnancy scare of her own she changed completely. Aunt Lori theorized that my mother's over protective parenting was her way of protecting me from having a similar experience.
Even though I understood why I was raised the way I was, I still had smoldering thoughts that I had missed something.
I did meet a boy my mother trusted and we were married in 1997, neither of us with the experiences most nineteen year olds had. We fumbled through the first night together and the honeymoon. Actually, after our wedding night, we went a little crazy and by the time we ended our holiday in Antigua we were both sore and I sat on the small airplane pillow on the flight home.
We settled into a "normal" life. We both worked and John attended night school until our daughter was born the next year. John, supported by my mother, wanted me to stay home and raise Ashley properly. I complied and became a stay at home mother. To meet expenses, John got a second job and, subsequently, dropped out of school. Life settled into a routine of mothering with a mostly missing working husband and infrequent sex. Occasionally, my thoughts would turn to wondering how my life would have been if my mother hadn't stifled every potential male relationship in high school.
John Jr. arrived two years later. The routine became more entrenched and the sex almost non-existent. Aunt Lori was an infrequent confident and a source of inspiration and strength.
Eventually, Ashley went off to University. I had encouraged her privately to experience life differently than I had and she had shared with me enough for me to know she wasn't going to go crazy with the sexual freedom she would experience at college.
John Jr. was off to school two years later. I hadn't coached him the way I had Ashley. He was a good-looking guy and an athlete. I didn't think he'd refuse opportunities that lay in his path. I didn't go back to work. I had no experience for over twenty years and the jobs available to me were boring and underpaid. John had done reasonably well in spite of his limited education and he encouraged me to "retire" from the hard work of raising our children and stay home, find a fulfilling volunteer assignment and get dinner on the table each night.
With John, Jr. gone, the smoldering thoughts about the high school boys surfaced more often until there was scarcely a day I didn't think about them. Within a few months, I was spending most afternoons, alone in our bedroom, naked with my fingers, fantasizing about things I had little experience with. During that time, I had another confidential and confessional conversation with Aunt Lori. She led me to a plethora of free pornographic web cites, many of them featuring young men about the age of the high school boys my mother had intimidated. An hour of viewing on-line videos followed by an hour of self-satisfaction daily became my "normal."
One afternoon, in the early spring, as I entered our bedroom, I heard the sound of a lawn mower in the next yard. I lifted one slat of the blinds to see who it was. The neighbor's son, I think his name was Craig, was mowing the front lawn. Craig was a year behind John Jr. so he was probably eighteen and about to graduate high school. I hadn't noticed how much he had grown and developed over the years. He was shirtless and, from what I could see, he had developed into a fine specimen.
I stood in front of the window and opened the blinds just a little. I stood there, hoping he would notice. I stood there until he finished and walked the lawnmower into the garage. Disappointed, I stripped and climbed onto the bed without first going to my computer in the corner. For the first time my fantasy had a name, Craig.
A week later, Craig was back and so was I. I opened the blinds further and casually undressed as if I was alone and no one could watch me. I was upbeat that Craig would notice and scared to death he might. I resisted peeking to see if I had been noticed but I weakened and peeked anyway. Craig's pattern didn't waver and I concluded he hadn't noticed. I spent over an hour and a half naked in the bed, after Craig finished the lawn, fantasizing.
A week later, I went all out. I opened the blinds fully, sat in a chair in front of the window with my feet on the windowsill and played with myself under my skirt. My heart was pounding and my anxiety had my whole body shaking. I threw my head back and closed my eyes to calm my fear and hoped. When the sound of the mower stopped, I opened my eyes just a sliver and peeked. Craig was standing in the middle of the lawn staring at our house. I closed my eyes and let my skirt drop while breathing heavily. When the lawn mower restarted, I stood up and closed the blinds.
I was in a near panic. I had taken a step into the unknown. Did I really want Craig to see me like that? Why? What would I do next? I stripped and climbed onto the bed. Two hours later I dragged myself off the bed exhausted. I straightened the bed, put on a robe and opened the blinds as I did each day. The window on the other side of the bed faced the window of a bedroom of Craig's house. The blinds on that window were open and I could see Craig, sitting on a chair at his desk wearing only a pair of white briefs. On the computer in front of him was a video of a young man having sex with an older woman.
My knees got weak and I had to sit on the edge of the bed. Was I responsible for Craig's choice of entertainment? Did I start something and was I really able to go further and should I? "Shit," I said to myself as I got up to dress with a smile on my face.
The next week, when I heard the mower, I opened the blinds and got completely undressed in front of the window. I was very careful to keep my back to the window while I did. When I was naked, I walked away from the window.
When the sound stopped, I darkened the room, opened the blinds on the window facing Craig's bedroom, stood far enough back to be unnoticeable and waited. The blinds next door opened and Craig peered through the window hoping, I thought, to catch sight of me. He stepped back and began to undress. Only he faced the window and he didn't stop with his briefs. After he removed his briefs, he held his cock in one hand and stroked it a couple of times before he turned, sat at his desk and started a video similar to the one last week. I was impressed with the size of his cock. I don't think it was significantly larger than John's but it was new, different and very appealing.
I was breathless. What the fuck was I doing? I was more than twice his age. He certainly has girls his age he must be interested in but, if the videos he watched were any indication, my age didn't bother him. Why should it bother me?
I closed the blinds, climbed on the bed and Craig fucked me more than once in my imagination in the next hour.
I was determined in spite of my fear but how to take the next step? I had no idea. The distance between our windows was a dangerous, uncrossable chasm.
