First time together, in more ways than one
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This is the story of a wonderful holiday, an incredible series of events; some tremendous friends and some wild sex of course! It's the story of how I found love again, refreshed my libido and started a whole new life too but I need to do some explaining first...
So here I go...
I'm a fairly normal lady, sweet and innocent and all that and I was once in a relationship with a guy who got me pregnant and then left in a hurry when he found out. In those days I was young and stupid and one night I gave in to him, a man who I fancied like anything. Of course I was so in love that I didn't even take precautions and the next thing I knew I was pregnant. Oh, he wasn't the first or only man I had sex with but he was definitely the father of my child. I actually told him I was 'with child' on my nineteenth birthday, thinking it would be a perfect present but instead he screwed me one more time then took off to the hills and I was left on my own. It was a present I could well have done without at the time.
But the guy is of no consequence now nor in this story except to say that by the time I was 20 I was a new and single mother, learning the hard way how to get along alone, how to bring up my son alone, how to scrimp and save and to do without - but I managed. Gradually I overcame the awkward things that life threw at me and began to build my new world around me and before I knew it my son was at school.
That was the hardest part; educating a small boy. No, I don't mean school education, I mean educating as in teaching him all the facts of life and how to behave properly and all that, as well as always being there for him and it was a complete pain and bloody hard work but it was worth it. And looking back, I wouldn't have changed anything; well, not much anyway...
So now and still being young - well in my mind, at 38 I still AM young - with a nineteen year old son it's great - we can see eye to eye - we manage not to fall out and we make quite a good team. He's good; he helps when he's needed and apart from my parents, he's the only person I can ever rely on. It took years for him to accept that he didn't have a proper dad like most of his friends and for a while he had some kind of inbuilt anti-woman attitude that small boys seem to have, seemingly blaming me for his father's absence but he eventually began to understand that it wasn't entirely my fault and he turned around and began to love me and accept me as his mentor and his lone parent.
Steve's successful growth from a tiny mite into a strapping nineteen year old seems something of a miracle to me and it still feels as if it was only yesterday that he was a squalling brat whereas now he's even bigger than life itself.
He's already some five inches taller than me and when I see his smiling face - not to mention his lovely broad chest, his muscular arms and thighs, oh and his cute little butt - I go all weak and washy in a way that no mother should. But he's my son and I'm so proud of him that I even used to be so stupidly envious whenever I saw him with any girl.
Oh, there were a couple of other people he really trusted as he grew up and developed; my parents, who were so supportive of us both.
They had seen the shallow weakness in my partner immediately; months before I did and when I became pregnant and told them, they were full of forebodings and rightfully so and they threw up their hands in despair.
But when it was all over and the dust in the wake of my departing partner had settled they still stuck by me, even while they told me that I'd made my own bed and all that.
I soon came to understand how they felt, then I took control of my own life and worked hard to support my son and myself until eventually even I was proud of my achievements.
But would I have managed to bring up my boy and find the energy to write and build a career as well without my parents help?
It was the tales I told them of Stevie's happy playful ways that set them to help me to turn those thoughts into words; into books; into a growing career; it was they who gave me the chance to set myself up for life. Oh, no way am I as financially secure as them but I can support myself now, all thanks to them really.
Not only that, Stevie is coming on nicely, thanks to them too. He has a brilliant eye for design - he can use materials or computers already to do some fantastic work but he'd never have done so well without their financial help and their moral support, of course. It certainly won't be long before he'll be able to become independent - and then I guess I'll lose him...
In retrospect I'm sure that Steve is a better person for not having had that jerk as a father and for having had just me and my parents to guide him instead.
Actually I tell a lie - they weren't my real parents - they were a lovely couple who adopted me but since it was they who brought me up, to me they were my parents, and that's what I'll continue to call them. They were actually relatively old when they adopted me, already in their forties but whatever, they were incredibly helpful, so much so that I continue to wonder what I'd have done without them, but they also helped me in other ways too.
They had loads more money than I used to have and were so good at popping a bit of cash into my bank or my purse just when I needed it most - I loved them to bits for their parental generosity and support. They weren't 'loaded' but they'd been very sensible with their cash and their investments and now it was I who was reaping the rewards.
And then my adoptive mother went and died; she picked up some bug that disagreed with her and nothing they could do would stop it's ravages until come the end we prayed for them to let her go, such was her pain.
But my 'dad' stayed wonderful - perhaps even more so now that I was his only girl and with some of his wife's insurance money he decided to send me on my trip of a lifetime - a dream that I'd held since my own childhood and one that until now had always only been a dream.
A visit to the Gold Coast of Queensland, Australia - Surfer's Paradise and all that, all paid for by my loving parents.
Our home in the south west of England is in a village not far from a coastal town and all of us enjoyed the countryside and beaches and especially swimming and surfing. I'd been taught to swim and surf by my parents and now I'd taught Stevie too; he was a natural water baby with a great affinity with the waves and an air of confidence from the start. He looked so good on a board too, his nice straight limbs and strong muscles showing up well - his blond locks looked 'the part' too, of course. And with our love of the sea it soon became almost inevitable that the dream of a warm surfing holiday would be close to the surface...and now it was about to come true.
In about two weeks my son and I would be flying off for a month-long vacation - a month of sun, sea and surf...or at least that's what my father promised - but then we hit a bit of a snag.
