My mother, Simone Cleary, is one of the most incredible parents on the planet. She's an Army widow with four kids and, with help, she's managed to raise us to be a close family. She's managed it all on a widow's pension and the generosity of others.
Mom had been married to Dad for fourteen years, all of it as a military wife, when he was killed in an ambush in Beirut before I was born. Dad was a Colonel on assignment in Lebanon at the time. He was traveling in a small convoy in a safe zone when his entourage was suddenly attacked. Before help arrived, five US Army members were dead, including my father. Twenty-two insurgents also died and an unreported number of civilians.
Mom was at home with three daughters and pregnant with me, when she learned of Dad's death. After the military funeral, she was determined to provide her children as much of a normal life as possible. She received a military widow's pension and some dependent child support. A charitable organization also chose her to receive a mortgage free home. She earned a small additional income working in a nearby library. The combination was more than enough for her and her four children.
I was born in January about six months after my father's death and named after him. Mom was an involved mother but without a strong male influence and with her working, my three sisters assumed much of the responsibility of raising me. I may be the only man alive that had effectively four mothers. As much as my mother dedicated herself to mothering, my sisters actually spent more time with me. Their natural tendencies to mother me assumed a primary role for them. Abigail, my oldest sister was ten when I was born. She assumed most of the parental responsibility. Bethany, two years younger, assisted her and Carrie, at seven years old, contributed whenever she could.
We lived in a three-bedroom house, which created some difficulties. Initially, my two oldest sisters shared a room and, when I was about three, I moved from my mother's bedroom to the bedroom occupied by Carrie. Carrie surprised everyone by welcoming me to her room and treated me like her favorite doll, dressing me and generally providing for my needs.
During much of my developing years, the girls, including my mother, were casual with their dress habits. Abby, Beth and even my mother were frequently topless or more when around me, almost as if I wasn't a male or at least it didn't matter. Carrie was young enough not to care at all. My youth had something to do with it.
Time, however, has a way of changing things. When Carrie was fourteen, and developing a feminine body, having a six year old, male roommate made her uncomfortable. A family council discussed the issue and generated a possible solution. Bethany would move to share a bedroom with Carrie and I would move in with Abigail. Abigail was sixteen at the time, more comfortable with her body and felt she could deal with my presence better than either of our sisters.
The arrangement was unusual but it seemed to work well, initially. Abby was careful of her dressing and undressing habits initially but over time, my presence became normal and she eventually relaxed around me and her habits became more like when I was younger. By the time I was thirteen, Abby and I were comfortable changing clothes with the other in the room although neither of us was actually deliberately nude in front of each other, we were occasionally in our underclothes around each other and I frequently got peeks at Abby naked when she thought I was asleep, something I faked often.
In high school, I tried out for the freshman football team. I'm not a jock and I didn't have an athlete's body but somehow I made the team. They needed a center that could throw the ball backward between his legs with some accuracy and I was that guy. Football developed my body and I followed up with joining the wrestling team. Football conditioning was difficult, wrestling conditioning was intense. I thought I was in good shape after football season but one practice session of wrestling left every muscle in my body hurting.
Spring track followed wrestling and I did well running cross-country at two and a half miles. By the time I graduated at eighteen, I had twelve letters and a buff body.
During my sophomore year, Abby found an excellent job and moved into her own apartment. Beth joined her a year later, leaving Carrie and I with our own bedrooms.
High school athletics wasn't everything it was rumored to be, especially for me. While many of the other athletes were popular with the girls in school, I wandered the halls without romantic encounters. I had been raised to respect women and relate to their emotional and physical desires. My interactions with the girls in school were guided by that upbringing. I thought the girls wanted me to listen to them, empathize with what they shared with me and maybe hold hands. I missed that most of them wanted the same things that the athletes wanted, sex. I had a few hapless dates. While the other athletes were bragging about their getting to second base and further, I never even came up to the plate.
The ultimate example was the senior prom. We were all eighteen and everyone wanted to go to the prom. It was the highlight of the school year and everyone, including me, knew what was expected between the guys and the gals after the prom. I was never good at asking a girl for a date but I calmed my anxiety and asked Lorraine if she would care to go to the prom with me. In spite of my awkward approach, she accepted.
The chaperones at the prom had a difficult time keeping the dancers from bumping and grinding against each other, except for Lorraine and me. We danced together at a politically correct distance.
Activities after the prom were organized by many of the parents at a number of venues. Some were organized to keep the partiers off each other's bodies while others were held in darkened rooms without parental intervention. The parents remembered their proms and created environments based on their experiences. Couples attending the prom naturally gravitated to the less supervised locations.
I took Lorraine home, shook her hand and said good night.
My reputation at school took a major hit after the prom. There were rumors that I was a lousy lay or possibly gay. The reality was that I had seen more tits and pussy growing up than any of the jocks could imagine. It was just that I was unable to transform my normal desires into action.
Abby was the first to identify my issues with girls. It was after my eighteenth birthday in the middle of my senior year. I don't know if she discussed it with my other sisters or my mother but she decided to do something about it. She felt some responsibility for my plight and she took it upon herself to change my programming.
Abby created an excuse for me to come over to her apartment, ostensively to help her move some furniture and hang some pictures. I went to her apartment on a Saturday morning. Beth wasn't home and Abby was waiting for me wearing a halter top, short shorts and barefoot. There were four or five inches of bare flesh between the bottom of her top and the top of her shorts. It didn't bother me. I had seen much more over the years and I wasn't aware that anything was amiss.
We spent about an hour rearranging the furniture in her living room and moving it back again when she didn't like the result. We took a break. We sat in her kitchen. Abby got us both beers. Drinking age was twenty-one at the time but my sister gave one to me. It wasn't my first beer and it tasted good.
Abby and I spent another hour catching up on each other's activities. At some point, Abby asked about my personal life, specifically how I was doing with the girls.
My reluctance to talk about it only intensified her wanting to know more. Bowing to her continued desire to talk about it, I finally admitted I was not doing anything with the girls. Of course, she wanted to know why not, emphasizing that I was a good-looking guy with an impressive body and all of the girls should be pursuing me just to be closer to it.
Embarrassed at her persistence, I finally admitted that I couldn't overcome my respect for a woman enough to lust after their bodies so I just stayed clear of them.
"How did that happen?" Abby asked.
"Mom always emphasized that a man should respect a woman at all times and never pressure her into something she wasn't committed to doing," I suggested.
"And?" prompted Abby.
"I took that to mean I should always let the girl lead," I added.
"And?" prompted Abby again.
"So far, none of the girls I've dated have been leaders."
"Is there more?" asked Abby.
"I've already told you more than I've ever told anyone."
"So, if I can summarize," said Abby. "You're eighteen years old, you're a high school athlete and you're still a virgin."
Embarrassed, I just nodded.
"So you think mom and the rest of us put you in this position?"
"You, Bethany and to a lesser extent Carrie, reinforced mom's admonition. It's good advice and I internalized it. I'm not embarrassed to feel that way."
"But it doesn't get you laid," stated Abby.
