[©2010 BY CLINTON09; ALL CHARACTERS OVER THE AGE OF 18; NO EVENTS DESCRIBED ARE TRUE]
[A naïve son tries to help his father get a reluctant mom to expand their tiny family. He makes several mistakes; thank heaven for mistakes.]
*
Never in the history of the world was there a better little boy than me. Well behaved, devout, celibate before marriage, it was truly an admirable litany. That all changed after I turned 18, but it wasn't my fault...really.
My name is Pete and I was the only child of David and Sara. My mother Sarah was religious and did enough home schooling where I was concerned to instill that in me too. I did not go in for 'casual sex', hand cranking, or anything before marriage. My mom 'walked the walk' too; she dressed like Mother Theresa. I didn't have the slightest idea what she really looked like. My father was not nearly as strict; perhaps because of her conservative demeanor, dad went out of his way to be open with me. God, he even told me that they were getting close and had to try for that elusive second child, hopefully a daughter. He indicated that mom wanted that too, but never seemed to have the time. From that I gathered that mom needed some 'motivation'. I never forgot that.
On my 18th birthday, my mom was preparing a great dinner for us for after the big bowl game. Dad and I were watching it. His beloved alma mater (and my school next year) was playing. It was the last quarter and we were down five points. The other team was closing in on a clinching touchdown. At that point, dad got up, saying he was going to take a shower before dinner—he just couldn't watch any more. He left, but then he remembered that mom had asked him to bring home her favorite wine, and he had forgotten. He jumped in the car and sped off.
A few minutes after he said he was going to the shower, our team picked six. The cornerback intercepted and ran it back 89 yards, turning the game around. I was so excited I ran upstairs to the walk-in shower to tell dad. As I poked my head in with the great news, I was thunderstruck. I hadn't known that dad ran out for wine, or that mom had decided to take a break from baking and grab a shower. But there she was. As the steamy water cascaded down, I was there with my mouth agape. My mother stood in the altogether. The hair that normally was in a tight bun (straight from the 19th century) was free, long, and luxuriant. Her beautiful face now seemed in context; it was above a beautiful body. Her hands quickly covered them, but her breasts were large, the most intoxicating sight I had ever seen. The nipples on them, excited by the shower stream, were erect like thumbs. Her figure was perfect, with a slim waist, motherly hips, smooth thighs, and legs like a Hollywood actress. Even her lovely feet were a revelation; she had never so much as gone barefoot before. I was so mesmerized that she literally had to push my head out the shower. I came to my senses instantly, explained what had happened, and left, retreating to my room.
I was hiding in my room when mom stormed downstairs to meet dad coming back from the package store. She blew up and told on me; thankfully, dad filled in the gaps. Mom understood, at least. She still was steaming. I breathed a sigh of relief. Lying on the bed, I noticed that something was awry. I undid the fly on my pants, opened the jockey opening, and found that a part of me was enormously swollen. As I let it out, it sprung above my belt line. Once freed, it even went above my navel. I got out a ruler and measured almost ten inches from root to base. Talk about naïve. I of course knew that this was my cock. Somehow I didn't connect the fact that I had just seen my gorgeous mother in the nude and my furious erection.
It was the summer before I was to head to dad's alma mater to start college. I was into archeology and paleontology even in high school. Since dad was an honored alumnus of our school, they offered me a slot in their trip to the ancient pyramid ruins in Mexico. I leaped at the chance. Before I left, dad wished me well. Then, for reasons I never understood, he told me that I should have a sister on the way soon. He had a particular date lined up, which coincided with mom's cycles. It turned out that I would be home by then. All in all, it was much more information than I wanted to know.
In Mexico, I was such a 'downer' that the other students (all male) hated me. I got up early and finished late, never going to the night spots. The other guys, thrilled they could drink at 18 and not 21 like here, got tanked every night. On our last night, they all carried paper bags with bottles wrapped within. My best friend, Roger, brought me one too. On the flight home, the bottles safely stored in our luggage, I asked what they contained. He said they were 'spanish fly', the so-called aphrodisiac to end all that would get the most prudish babe to rip off her clothes and volunteer for anything. I hadn't known that, or I would've left it at the airport. Thank goodness I didn't know.
I took the limo home from the airport. It turns out that this was the day that dad had indicated they would make their last effort to make that daughter they both hoped for. Like a lightning bolt, it struck me. That 'spanish fly' probably didn't work, but if it did... Dad had told me that mom was as desperate as he was to have that daughter now, before it was too late. He said that the problem had been mom's reluctance to actually make the effort. My brilliant idea was to give mom the Spanish fly; by the time that dad got home from work, she'd be crawling the walls, and my kid sister would be all but certain.
It was 3:30pm. Mom betrayed her English background by having tea and biscuits (cookies) promptly at that hour. That was perfect, the tea would mask the 'spanish fly'. She was thrilled when I offered to make her teatime treat for a change. She thought I was a dunce when I served her two cups of tea at once in a large coffee cup. Of course, I had to have more tea to conceal the added liquid. Thankfully, she drank it.
At 3:45pm, dad called. There was a crisis in their European office. The Greek monetary crisis threatened their whole operation; he had to fly out immediately for about a month. He'd be in Brussels. After he hung up, the shock hit me. I had tried to prepare mom, whose cycle was at its peak, for dad's onslaught as he tried for that baby. Now, he was gone for 30 days. What if that stuff actually worked? I re-assured myself: none of those things work, it's all a fraud. I convinced myself that everything was cool. I went downstairs to grab something from the fridge.
I was wearing my official NBA warm-up fleece shorts and nothing else. Mom, I presumed, was still in her room. From her room, I heard a crash. It sounded like that bed tray I used to give her afternoon tea in bed had fallen. I knew that mom didn't like me in her bedroom for any reason, so I didn't bother running to see what happened. Now I heard a thump, thump on the stairs. It wasn't the sound of someone running or quietly padding the stairs. It was a deliberate stagger, as if someone was drunk. (For those keeping score, my mom never ever was drunk) I almost jumped ten feet when my mother appeared at the kitchen threshold, her face looking odd. What was even odder was that she was NUDE, my mom, NUDE man. My jaw dropped, my eyes popping out.
