Mom got pregnant with me while she was still in high school. By the time she graduated, I was already ten months old and my father was out of the picture, not that he or his parents ever wanted to see him married to mom.

My grandparents (mom's parents) made him pay up, big time, especially if he wanted visitation rights.

When he stopped paying after three years and moved away, mom got another decree and he's now garnished from who cares where!

I have learned not to feel guilty for cramping mom's style. I can see her heart sink when she has to confess to a possible new suitor that she's been an unwed mother since high school.

She suddenly doesn't get call-backs, and that's what I had to learn to dismiss.

Perhaps, just perhaps, mom has seen how poitively shallow so many men really are when it comes down to this rather modern problem.

Sometime around the age of seven, I discovered that mom had had enough of trying to find Mr. Right. She was now content with a less burdensome me and we became inseparable after school and work.

I turned twelve before mom even had her thirtieth birthday, and I was educated in the ways of boys so that if I chose to dally like mom did (her words), at least it would be my informed choice and not some smooth seduction from a handsome BS artist.

Mom heard my first stirrings towards womanhood when I began to play with myself, just before turning thirteen. It led to the discussion I mentioned, but it also led to a stunning awareness of each other and my newly developing, and mom's continuing, need for sexual satisfaction.

Mom came to my room, one night, as I was moaning in ecstasy, my fingers really tearing at my clit in the heat of summer passion.

She tenderly stroked my hair as I froze in fear that I had been discovered. Then, she kissed me on the forehead and asked me what I wanted to know about myself.

"Mom, I'm sorry, I..." I couldn't get it out right, I stammered so much.

"There, there, baby," mom began, "it's normal for you to want - to need this. I still do it too."

"Will you show me mom?" I begged.

She smiled and had me get up to remove my nightie while she did the same. I saw mom's trimmed thatch and still very beautiful body. She could have been a model, at least a clothing model.

Mom's only 5'2", about 110 pounds, a lovely olive type complexion because grandma is Sicilian, and dark eyes and hair. I am a 4'6" version of her, except I got my father's green eyes. I probably weigh about 90 pounds because the phys. ed. programs in school have put muscularity on my body that mom didn't have.

That night, we played show and tell.

Mom didn't realize (did she?) that this intimate contact was so exciting to me that it caused me to... do things I would never have thought to do, like suckling her breast again, the way I did as a baby!

Mom cradled my head as I suckled her, then she wet a finger and diddled one of my nipples to life!

By the time I had my first ever orgasm, mom was gently suckling ME, while her middle finger was probing my labia, locating my clit.

Once again, I felt guilty because I hadn't brought mom off, so I did the same to HER, rubbing her already hot clit until I felt her push against my hand.

Kids use the term "lezbo" in cutting remarks, but this experience had all the love and tenderness that I dreamt about if I ever met the right guy, so I didn't feel "queer", just satisfied!

But it didn't end there...

... not after mom discovered we could take care of each other's needs without the hassle of being abandoned again.

We became lovers. We progressed to the inevitable cunnilingual experimentation and mom was a natural. As for me, I was the rookie, taking all this in for the very first time.

By now, my maidenhead was a problem because all our activity caused me to stretch at it until it hurt, and a few tell tale drops of blood confirmed that there was trauma.

Mom had explained how this would hurt like hell for a short time, the first time it was broken, so I asked her if we could just get it out of the way, altogether. I'd rather be deflowered by mom than some selfish boy. I loved mom and I trusted her judgement.

Mom ran a hot bath and told me to sit.

"Ooh, it's too hot, mom!" I cried out.

Mom came to the door with her "toy", a rubbery plasticene cock, similar to what men have, she told me.

My feet were used to the hot water, so I remained in a squat position while mom plyed that soft, yet not soft, and hard, yet not hard, penis - she called it, against my inner lips until the head found my vaginal orifice... and it immediately began to hurt!

Mom pressed firmly as I recoiled, which caused me to fall on my ass in the hot water!

The sting of that hot water caused me to immediately hunch forward hard as if to get out of the water, and in that instant, mom pressed home the dildo, breaking my maidenhead completely.

I cried out with the loss of my cherry, but mom told me to count backwards from thirty and it would all be over.

I never counted so fast, even as mom fed another inch of fake dick inside my bleeding vagina!

When I got to zero, I begged mom to take it out of me and she did so, but then she reached down and diddled me in that not-so-hot anymore water until a wonderful warmth overtook me down there and now, I didn't want mom to stop!

Mom was reaming me manually to make sure my entire maidenhead was gone. She didn't want me to have to suffer that again!

After emptying the tub and showering off some excesses, we resumed our new lovemaking in mom's bed.

Still a bit tender from my ordeal, I was treated to oral sex only while mom had me bury most of that ramrod inside her. I couldn't tell who was having the better time. I knew I would try that thing again, soon.

Three nights later, it happened. Mom was playing with HERSELF this night when I came in and asked why she left me out.

She said, "Honey, I didn't know how sore you might be, so I let you have your own space until you told me you were ready for more, and that is now!"

Thus started the "threesome" of mom, me, and Mickey, as we called it.

Now, we were truly inseparable, even with a crowbar!

For almost two years, we took care of each other's needs to our great mutual pleasure.

Then, a new worker asked mom out. She told me this guy was older, but very intelligent, thoughtful, fun to be with and all the other assorted hints that announced she was falling for this guy already.

Not yet a sophomore in high school, which would start at the end of the summer, I suddenly began getting quite suspicious, as if I were the mother and mom was my daughter. I didn't realize that the green eyed monster (jealousy) was overtaking me.

It wasn't fair - I had not even met this geezer, as I envisioned him, and I was already condemning him.

Maybe I was a "lezbo", a snooty jealous and possessive one!

Mom knew better than to introduce us, that first night. First, hit it off, then worry about the next problem if it arises.

They hit it off alright, so much so that I was sent to grandma's while they spent a weekend doing... whatever.

I never felt so empty, so abandoned in my life, and when I next saw mom, I did the wrong thing - I locked myself in my room and I wouldn't come out.

Mom stood outside my door and told me that if I loved her, truly loved her, I would want whatever made HER happy, not just me. She reminded me that my father was the same way, getting HIS pleasure, then saying "too bad" when the time came.

She began describing Mark to me: six feet tall, handsome in a rugged way, like a younger Clint Eastwood, a truly nice widower looking for companionship and offering companionship, polite, and most importantly, not afraid to experiment!

Suddenly, I opened the door.

"Experiment?" I asked, conjuring up visions of how I would seduce this old fuck and show mom how easily he would dump her for the next pussy that came along.

Mom corrected my vision by expounding upon experiment. "Mark did things that I never even heard of, and every one of them made me feel pleasure."