Summer SexCamp

That night, I lay awake a long time. I thought to myself that I’d done something very wrong. And it was even worse that I’d enjoyed it. And worse still that I’d do it again, if given the opportunity.

I knew it should be wrong to want to have sex with your mother. It must be wrong. But that night, laying awake in the top bunk, I tried to ponder exactly _why_ it was supposed to be wrong.

I could rationalize all I wanted to, but my mind kept coming back to two indisputable facts.

The first was that both of us had been willing participants. True enough, I hadn’t known it was Mom when I was fondling her breasts. I had thought it was Susan. And again, when I thought Mom had swum out to the raft and that Susan was sucking me. I was honest enough with myself to admit that the problem was that I would’ve done the same thing both times even if I had known it was Mom instead of Susan. I might not have been so bold about it, but given the opportunity, I’d have done it.

The second fact was simpler to analyze. I’d enjoyed playing with Mom’s breasts, and I’d enjoyed her sucking me. Even now that I knew it had been her and not Susan, I still felt tremendous excitement as I remembered events.

In the end, I couldn’t come up with a good reason why it should be wrong. As long as no one got hurt, and everyone understood what was going on, why should it be wrong? I loved my mother very much. And I knew she loved me. But I guess I’ve always known (from the comfortable perspective only a man can have, I imagine) that sex and love sometimes had very little to do with each other.

I don’t know if I was being rational, or simply too screwed up to realize that I was screwed up. Late in the night, with the sound of crickets chirping as the backdrop for my thoughts, I decided I wasn’t screwed up. And finally, I drifted off to sleep.

—–

The next morning, Mom woke me up early. I was slow to wake up, having spent what seemed like half the night lying awake in bed.

As I sleepily opened my eyes, Mom smiled up at me.

“Time to get up, honey,” she said in a low voice. “You’ve got to finish up at Susan’s today.”

“Okay, Mom,” I mumbled.

As I blinked sleep from my eyes and shook the fuzziness from my thoughts, I had a moment of panic.

What if Mom knew that I knew?! But that was circular logic. She couldn’t have known. I’d touched Susan’s leg, not Mom’s. And Mom didn’t know that I’d touched Susan, didn’t know I knew that she was warm and dry, when she should’ve been cold and wet.

Mom and Susan had set things up pretty elaborately, and I was certain they were in it together. At least last night they were in it together. Thinking back, that must’ve been what they were talking about when the had their low-voiced conversation in the lake. I felt certain that I was right.

As I mulled over in my mind the events of the previous night, I slowly began climbing down the ladder. Mom was sitting on her bed brushing her hair as I walked by rubbing my eyes. I shut the bathroom door and lifted the lid of the toilet.

When I went to pee, I realized that I couldn’t. I looked down, my thoughts still swirling, and panic clutched at my heart like talons. I had a morning hard-on! That, in and of itself, was nothing unusual. The fact that I’d just climbed down out of bed and walked across the room in front of Mom, with the aforementioned hard-on _was_ unusual. I hadn’t even been paying attention!

I shrugged it off. There was nothing I could do about it now. And, I chuckled evilly, it wasn’t like she hadn’t seen me with an erection before. And more besides!

So I brushed my teeth and combed my hair and as I concentrated on those routine tasks, my erection subsided enough for me to pee.

When I opened the door to the bathroom, Mom was still sitting on the bed brushing her hair.

I smiled sheepishly at her, deciding not to even mention my erection, and walked out of the bathroom.

“Seeya, Mom,” I said with a wave.

“Bye, honey.”

I opened the cabin door and then pushed open the screen door. I caught it before it could slam shut behind me and I suddenly laughed at myself. I was becoming nice in my old age!

—–

When I got to Susan’s house, she was once again sitting out in the courtyard drinking a glass of juice.

“Morning,” she said pleasantly, smiling at me.

“Morning.”

“You look tired.”

“Mmm hmm,” I said, then yawned to punctuate my answer.

“Didn’t sleep well?” she asked, standing up and moving towards the kitchen door.

“Slept fine. Just was up late.”

“Oh?”

“Thinking,” I said as we entered the coolness of the kitchen.

“Is it what I think you were thinking about?”

“Probably.”

“You want to talk about it?” she asked solicitously.

“Yeah. I think I do,” I said, surprising myself as much as her.

“Over breakfast?”

I shook my head. “Breakfast can wait, I guess.”

She turned and led me into the living room. Once there, she turned on one of the end table lamps and motioned for me to sit on the couch.

When I’d seated myself, she sat facing me, close but not touching me.

“Are you upset at what happened?” she asked gently.

“No,” I answered immediately. “Er, yes. No. Um, I don’t know.”

“Wow, you do sound like you need to talk.”

“I don’t think I’m upset. And I guess I should be, but I’m not,” I said, turning to face her. “Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” Susan said gently.

“I enjoyed it. I really did.”

“That’s understandable.”

“But the problem is, I don’t think it was wrong. Is that wrong?”

“No,” she said, surprising me.

I looked at her blankly.

“I imagine that most young men have sexual fantasies about their mothers.”

“Really?” I asked, incredulity plain on my face.

“Probably. I’m pretty sure Kirk and Doug did.”

“Oh.”

“It’s natural, and nothing to be worried about.”

“But…”

“And I would also imagine that it’s not uncommon for mothers to have sexual fantasies about their sons.”

“Huh?” I said in shock.

“You heard me.”

I nodded, still running through the implications of what she’d said.

“I know I certainly did,” she said matter of factly.

“You did?”

“Sure. Kirk and Doug are good-looking young men. I may be their mother, but I’m also a woman.”

“I guess,” I said, doubtfully.

“Think about it for a second and it’ll make sense. Who’s the person you love most in the world?”

I merely blinked at her.

“Your mother. When your hormones start raging, you sometimes fantasize about the most beautiful woman in your life. Your mother,” she repeated. “And as a mother, when your son develops into a young man full of hormones, with uncontrollable erections, it’s flattering. I’ll tell you that from personal experience.”

“You mean you had fantasies about your sons?”

She nodded soberly. “But there were times when I was this close,” she said, holding her thumb and finger up less than an inch apart, “to doing something more than fantasizing.”

“Really?”

She nodded again. “You have fantasies about your mom?” she asked gently.

“Yeah,” I said softly, not looking at her.

“You’re lucky, then.”

I looked up at her, my eyes full of unasked questions.

“You know if some of your fantasies are as good as reality.”

I nodded and swallowed hard. “You don’t think it’s wrong?”

“No,” she said gently and put her hand on my thigh. “I think you’re lucky. And your mom is very lucky.”

I could only nod, deep in thought, trying to wrap my mind around the implications of what she’d just told me.

“You’ve got to promise me something, Paul,” she said, taking my right hand between both of her own and waiting until I looked at her. She held my eyes with hers. “You’ve got to promise me that you’ll never tell your mom that I told you what I’m about to tell you.”

“O… O… Okay,” I stammered.

“Say it.”

“I promise. I’ll never breathe a word of it.”

“Yesterday, she came over to the house, and we had a long talk.”

I raised my eyebrows. I was so wrapped up in my own world yesterday that I’d had little time to pay attention to what Mom or Susan were doing. Not that I would’ve noticed, even if I’d thought about it.

“Uh huh. She wanted to ask my advice. About you.”

“Me?”

“You. She told me about stroking you in the lake the on Friday night. Do you have any idea what made her do that?”

I shook my head, feeling certain that Susan was going to tell me. I wasn’t disappointed.

“She had seen us earlier that day.”

I looked at her blankly. “Seen us?”

“Remember I’d been teasing you all morning?”

I nodded.

“And remember how you bent me over the table in the courtyard and fucked me from behind?”

I nodded again, my penis twitching with the memory.

“Well, your mom had come by the house to ask you to add the Cokes to your grocery list. And she saw us having sex.”

My jaw dropped open.

“Do you remember when we were driving by the clubhouse and she flagged us down? She was flustered, and kept looking at you funny?”

I did remember!

“So she knew we were having sex.”

I began to panic. If Mom knew that Susan and I were having sex, would she put a stop to things?! Would she tell my father?! My mind was ablaze with possibilities, most of them bad.

“It’s okay, Paul. She was actually kinda thankful it was me and not someone else. She trusts me. She still does trust me. And it,” Susan paused to make sure I was paying attention, “it excited her.”

I raised my eyebrows in disbelief.

Susan nodded. “Uh huh.”

She let that sink in for a few moments.

“What she wanted to talk about yesterday was how she felt about things. She wanted my advice. She told me she’d been thinking about you… thinking about you sexually. That’s when she told me about fondling you in the lake.

“She wanted someone to tell her she wasn’t a bad mother. I told her that I’d had fantasies about Kirk and Doug too, and that she was perfectly normal, not a bad mother. So then last night, I knew she was going to tease you some more. She enjoyed it, the feel of your erection.”

Talking about my erection from last night caused a fresh one to develop. Susan smiled at my reaction.

“We didn’t plan on getting you mixed up rubbing our shoulders, that was an accident. She told me she realized when I took my bikini bottoms off that you wouldn’t be able to tell whose ass was whose. So she backed up. She was enjoying teasing you, but she started getting into it when your dick rubbed across her pussy.

“And you thought she was me. After all, who else would tease you like that?” Susan smiled ruefully. “So when you started fondling her breasts, you really got her worked up. I didn’t know anything about it at the time; I couldn’t see a thing.

“But I could tell something was up when you slipped inside of me. I didn’t know what it was at the time, but I knew something had happened with you and your Mom. Then she told me that she wanted to suck you, that she couldn’t wait to taste you. I asked if she was sure, and she said she was very sure.

“So we worked it out. She said she was going to swim out to the raft. We knew you’d recognize her voice. Then I swam out instead, and she came back to suck you off. You probably wouldn’t have figured it out quickly either, if you hadn’t put your hand on my leg on the raft.”

I nodded, reluctantly admitting she was probably right. There were differences between the way Susan sucked me and the way Mom sucked me, but I wouldn’t have thought of it at the time. Now, looking back, the differences were startlingly obvious.

“She enjoyed sucking you. She was telling me about it after you left to head up to the clubhouse. I could tell she was masturbating as she told me about it. It was dark but she was only a few feet away from me. I didn’t tell her you touched my leg, and that you knew about our ruse. That’s why I say you’re both so lucky.”

I blinked at her, uncomprehending.

“You got to do what I always wanted to do, but never had the courage.”

We sat quietly for a while after that. I appreciated that she was letting me think. I was playing back in my mind everything that had happened to me in the past few days; more and more little things started clicking into place. Little things that didn’t make sense at the time, but began to fit like pieces of a puzzle, neatly bringing the larger picture into focus.

“Are you okay with things?” she asked.

I nodded.

“You know neither you nor your mom did anything wrong?”

I nodded again, grinning unabashedly.

“Good.”

She smiled at me and reached out to wrap her fingers around my erection. She gave me a smoldering look and licked her lips.

“You liked it when your mom went down on you?”

I swallowed hard and nodded.

Susan slid off the couch and maneuvered between my legs, never taking her hand off my dick. She began stroking my hard-on, looking up at me with a lust-filled expression.

“Tell me what you liked about it,” she purred.

“She took me all the way,” I hissed, intent on the waves of pleasure radiating from her touch, “into her throat.”

“Mmmmm, I’ll have to see if I can still deep throat. It just takes practice…”

That was the first time I’d ever heard the words “deep throat” used. At 15, I’d certainly never seen the movie _Deep Throat_. And in some ways, I’d led a fairly sheltered life. In others… Well, I was about to become intimately acquainted with what “deep throat” meant.

Susan bent forward and engulfed the head of my penis. She continued stroking me with her left hand while she swirled her tongue around the crown of my cock. Then she began licking up and down the length of my shaft, coating me with her slick saliva.

When she had my length coated, she took me into her mouth as deep as she could. When she clamped her lips around my shaft, only about two inches remained outside her mouth. She took a deep breath through her nose and opened her lips, forcing more of my cock into her mouth.

She clamped her lips down once more, about a half-inch further and breathed deeply. Once again, she opened her lips and forced more of my stiff member into her mouth. When she locked her lips around my girth this time, she squeezed her eyes shut tight and breathed through her nose.

I felt her move her tongue along the underside ridge of my penis then begin to withdraw. She let my dick pop completely out of her mouth and took a deep breath.

With her eyes still closed, she swallowed half my cock in one gulp. Then she pulled back, tossing her head side to side slightly and raking my cock against the smooth insides of her cheeks. She opened her lips and ran her tongue along the underside of my penis, taking me a little further.

She repeated the process, sucking me in then pulling me out, each time taking a little more of my dick in her mouth. Finally, she was taking almost all of me in her mouth. She locked her lips around me, with only about an inch remaining beyond her reach.

She squeezed her eyes shut tight and opened her lips. She forced her head down further, taking another half-inch, and clamped her lips down around my shaft. She tried to stay there, but I felt her gag. She breathed through her nose and kept her lips locked around my manhood. Finally, however, she started to gag again and quickly withdrew my cock from her throat.

When she looked up at me, her eyes were bright with unshed tears. She smiled and kissed the tip of my cock.

“I’m fine,” she said at my look of concern. “Just my gag reflex. It’s been a long time since I tried to take anyone all the way. It’s like riding a bike, I just need practice.”

With that, she kissed the tip of my penis again and took me into her mouth once more. Bobbing her head up and down, rapidly stroking my length with her soft, wet mouth, I quickly reached the point of no return.

She felt my imminent release and pulled completely back, letting my cock pop out of her mouth. For a moment I almost panicked. At last, she grasped my dick, opened her mouth, and began to stroke me.

She rested the head of my cock on her lower lip and stroked the base until I began to spurt. I watched in fascination as white jets of my sperm shot into her mouth. The spurts turned to gushes and I watched my semen pooling in her waiting mouth.

I had never been so turned on in my young life. A beautiful woman was kneeling between my legs and stroking my erection, emptying my semen into her mouth. When the surges finally ceased, I could see she had quite a pool of my come on her tongue. Looking up at me with her beautiful blue eyes, she made sure that I was watching.

She closed her lips over the tip of my penis and milked my cock one final time. Then I saw her swallow my load, then swallow again. Finally, she opened her mouth and looked up at me, moving her tongue to the side to show me that she had swallowed all that I’d given her. She smiled up at me and kissed the tip of my slowly shrinking penis again.

“How about some breakfast?” she asked, practically purring at me.

—–

We had a lot to do to finish up the boxes in the garage. With the exception of a quick lunch break, we worked continuously until almost four o’clock. We both wanted to finish the job that day, and worked hard to accomplish our goal.

When the end was finally in sight and I had time to think, I began to worry. I had really enjoyed working with Susan. Obviously, I enjoyed her body tremendously, and I enjoyed how she made me feel.

But the thought of not spending any more time with her left me feeling… scared. It’s hard to explain how I felt about Susan. She was a vitally important part of my life, one that I would never let go, at least in my heart.

But I didn’t associate the things I normally associated with “love” with Susan. I simply couldn’t imagine us getting married and having children.

For one thing, she’d already been married, and her children were older than me. For another, I was 23 years younger than her. And at 15, that’s a pretty big divide. This wasn’t some grade-school crush either. I knew that I wanted to protect her from harm. I wanted to make sure she was safe. Her happiness was very important to me, perhaps more important than my own happiness.

And at the core of my being was a fear. A dreadful, gnawing fear. I realized that it was the fear of rejection. I felt an almost unreasoning panic, wondering what I would do without her.

As I was thinking, I slowly realized that Susan was looking at me. She had stopped what she was doing and was simply looking at me, waiting for me to notice.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” she teased.

“Do you love me?!”

“What makes you ask that?”

“Do you?! Or is this all some game to you?!”

She stood, setting aside the contents of the box she’d been working on. She quickly walked over to where I was standing.

“Well?!”

Looking up at me, I could see that she was trying to decide how to answer me. Then her eyes softened and she smiled. I felt my belligerence drain out of me like water, and my stomach lurched.

“Yes, Paul. I love you very much.” She reached up to touch my face and I felt my legs tremble. “But I’m not in love with you,” she said, firmly but gently.

I sat down heavily on a box behind me. What did she mean she wasn’t “in love with me?” She’d just said she was!

Susan stepped closer and took my head in both her hands. It was now I who was looking up at her.

“Do you understand the difference?”

I shook my head, ashamed to feel my eyes stinging and filling with tears.

She stepped closer and drew my head against the soft skin of her stomach, wrapping her arms around me.

“Oh, my Paul,” she said, “so eager to be a man. I love you very much, Paul. Very, very much.”

I looked up at her between her breasts, blinking back tears. “But you said…”

“I said I love you Paul, and I do. I love you as much as I love Kirk or Doug. But I’m not in love with you,” she said, looking down at me.

“I don’t understand.”

“I loved my husband. I still do. And I was in love with him too.”

I looked up at her uncomprehendingly.

“Do you love your mother?”

I nodded, confused.

“Are you in love with her? Do you want to spend the rest of your life with her?” I shook my head.

“You’re not in love with your mother. You love her, but you’re not in love.”

I still didn’t understand, and worse yet, I suspected it would be a long time before I did.

“I love you, Paul. I love you very much,” she said, smiling again. “I want you to grow up and be happy. I want you to meet a beautiful girl your own age and get married and have children.”

I smiled through my welling tears, turned my face to the side, and hugged her tight.

“I will always be a part of your life, Paul, and you will always be a part of mine.”

I tightened my grip on her hips and she simply held me to her, slowly stroking my hair.

I was confused, elated, and heartbroken, all at the same time. My emotions were like a swirling maelstrom. The only thing that was certain to me was that I did love her, and she loved me. I could sort out the rest when I had time to think about it. Later.

—–

We finished up the few boxes that remained and I turned to go.

“Do you want to shower here, before you go?”

I knew what she wanted. And a part of me wanted it too. But I shook my head. She stepped close to me, concerned.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah… I’ve just got a lot to think about is all.”

“You’re sure?”

“Mmm hmm. I’ll be okay.”

She smiled at me, and opened her mouth to speak. Her thought died unspoken, however, and she reached her hand out to me.

I smiled, but didn’t take it.

“I’m so sorry, Paul. I never meant to hurt you.”

“You didn’t. Or maybe you did. But I guess sometimes the truth hurts.”

She pulled her hand back, and I could see tears welling up in her eyes.

“I love you,” I said simply.

“I love you too, Paul, with all of my heart.”

Her tears spilled over and formed tracks down her face as I turned to walk out of the garage.

The walk from her house to our cabin seemed to take hours.

—–

That night, at dinner, Mom knew something was up, but she was kind enough not to pry. I think she might’ve suspected, but she didn’t say a word.

After dinner, Erin and her friends went off to play together. I couldn’t find Manfred, Gina or Jenny either. So I decided to walk down to the lake by myself.

I was sitting in one of our lounge chairs, and had just watched the sun sink behind the ridge when I heard a soft footstep behind me. No one else was around the lake–without the sun to warm you, the cold water was very cold indeed. I didn’t turn as I heard someone slip into the chair beside me.

“Want some company?” It was Mom.

I shrugged.

Mom sat with me in silence.

After perhaps five minutes, she asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head.

She reached over and covered my hand with hers, squeezing gently. I don’t know why, but her touch was very reassuring.

Finally, she patted my hand and quietly got up, realizing I just wanted to be alone.

“Thanks, Mom.”

“You’re welcome, honey. Come back up whenever you’re ready.”

I don’t know how long I sat there thinking about what Susan had said. I replayed the conversation in my mind over and over.

I knew I loved Susan. And I believed her when she said she loved me, I could see it in her eyes. But I didn’t know what she meant when she said she wasn’t in love with me.

I tried to wrap my mind around the idea. If you loved someone, were you in love with them? I thought about what she’d said about Mom. Of course I loved Mom. But I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life with Mom; not like husband and wife.

I slowly began to realize what she’d been talking about. I think. I could clearly tell that she cared for me, wanted me to be happy, and enjoyed my company. She loved me. Just like she said.

I may have been confused and a little heartsick, but I wasn’t stupid. I slowly began to realize what she had meant when she said she wasn’t in love with me. Susan loved her dead husband, she loved her sons, and she loved me. But of all the men in her life, she was only in love with her husband.

I wasn’t entirely clear on the differences, subtle or great, but at least I was a little bit happier than I’d been earlier. The gnawing fear was still there, a little, but had receded quite a bit. I thought about the look in her eyes as I had turned to walk out of the garage. The look of love and pain.

I had thought at the time that she was upset at me. But as I sat in the chair, listening to the crickets, I realized that she was upset because she knew she had hurt me. And then I realized how I must have hurt her, walking away the way I did, clearly upset and confused.

I knew she had wanted to comfort me, but she knew I would have to work things out for myself. So she had let me go. I wondered what kind of courage that took, and I was ashamed.

—–

I don’t know how much longer I sat on the shore of the lake, lost in thought. But the sun had set fully and the stars were coming out. No one else had come down to the lake to interrupt my thoughts.

I knew I needed to say something to Susan, to apologize, to let her know I was okay. It just took me a while to work up the courage.

Finally, I resolved myself to facing her and started up the hill to her house.

I walked into the entrance to the courtyard and stopped. There were candles burning on the wrought-iron table. With a start, I realized that Susan was sitting at the table, and that someone was with her! I started to mumble my apologies and quickly turned to go.

“Paul, wait.”

I froze. It was my mom’s voice.

I turned around slowly as the two women rose.

“Are you okay, honey?” Mom asked.

I nodded. I saw Susan, in the ruddy glow of the candles, nervously wring her hands.

“I just had a lot of thinking to do.”

“I know,” she said.

“You’re welcome to join us,” Susan said tentatively.

I looked at Mom. She smiled softly and nodded.

As I took a few reluctant steps towards the glow of the candles, I saw that Susan’s eyes were puffy, and that she had been crying. My heart ached seeing her, and I felt doubly ashamed for how I’d acted.

Mom came up and took my hand, leading me back to the table. She stood on tiptoes and kissed my cheek.

“Have a seat,” she said to me, then turned to Susan. “I’ll go inside and get another wine glass.”

They had been sharing a bottle of wine when I arrived.

I sat down, but I couldn’t bring my eyes to look at Susan.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Me too. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you. But I owed you the truth.”

I nodded somberly. “I understand.”

“Do you?”

“I think so. Yeah, kinda.” I looked up at her and smiled wanly.

“Does this change things? Between us?”

“Do you want it to?” I asked, my thoughts suddenly filled with panic that I tried to keep out of my voice.

“No,” she said quietly. “Not if you don’t want it to.”

“I don’t.”

“Thank you.”

About then, we heard the kitchen door open. Both of us watched as Mom came out of the kitchen holding another wine glass. She set it in front of me and poured about a third of a glass.

I stared at it, then up at her. She refilled Susan’s glass, then her own. Finally, she sat down. Mom and Dad would let Erin and me taste their wine at restaurants, or an home, but this was the first time that I’d had a glass of my own. I turned to look at Mom, questions filling my expression.

“It’s okay, honey. You’re old enough now.”

I looked at the wine glass in front of me, and the golden liquid reflecting the candle light. Tentatively, I reached out and touched the glass. It was cool on my fingertips as I emulated how I’d seen my parents lift their glasses. Mom and Susan lifted their own glasses.

“To good friends,” Mom said, raising her glass.

She and Susan shared a look that I couldn’t begin to understand, and we all raised our glasses and drank.

After we had finished the wine, Mom asked if I would walk her home. But before we left, she had to go to the bathroom. When she went inside, Susan and I had the courtyard to ourselves.

She came up to me and looked into my eyes. I looked back, unsure of how to react. She stepped close and put her arms under mine, hugging me close. I felt the heat of her skin pressing against me, and I wrapped my arms around her, squeezing her tight.

We stood like that for almost a minute, before she loosened her grip and stepped back. When she looked up at me, she blinked back tears.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice husky with emotion.

I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I merely smiled and nodded. Evidently, it was enough for her, and her answering smile filled me with joy.

We stood in silence a few moments longer before Mom returned from the bathroom. She kissed Susan on the cheek and thanked her for the wine. Finally, she linked her arm through mine and we walked into the night.