The Summer of '78

Although this episode occurred several years ago, in the late 1970's, I have been moved recently to put it down in writing. It was only a one-time thing, and I have struggled over the years in dealing with it. Only lately have I begun to accept it for what it was; a careless and very naughty game between a mother and son.

As I mentioned, this was the late 1970's. I had finished one year of college and was 19 at the time. One hot afternoon in late August, I had returned home a day early from my summer job as a counselor for a sleep-away band camp in New Hampshire. My mother was to have picked me up the following day from the designated bus stop downtown, but a friend offered me a ride home from camp, which I accepted knowing that my mom was most likely busy with household chores. I wished to surprise her and my dad as well.

As my friend's car entered the driveway, I could see that only my mom's car was in the driveway, meaning that my dad was working the night shift again for Bell Telephone.

"Hello?" I said, as I entered the house. No response. "Hello? It's your favorite son, home from camp!" Again, no response.

I caught a familiar aroma of homemade pasta sauce simmering on the stove. My mom, a second generation Italian, was a fantastic cook and her sauce was second to none. She most likely made is especially for my homecoming.

I looked around the house for signs of life, but found none. I deposited my camp gear and trumpet in my bedroom upstairs. Downstairs, back in the kitchen, I had a taste of the pasta sauce- a Bolognese-which was absolutely delicious. I noticed a half-empty bottle of Seagram's 7 on the counter next to an empty bottle of Seven-Up. Seven and 7 was mom's drink of choice, so she was surely nearby. I went out the sliding glass door to the back yard, where I thought she might be gardening. Not there, either.

We had a large back yard, with an in-ground pool that had been installed a few years previous. Local building codes mandated that all residential pools must be surrounded with fencing at a minimum height of 5 feet. My dad, ever cautious, decided that an 8-foot stockade fence would be even better, so this pool at the very end of the property against the woods, looked like a mini garrison from the house.

The gate to the pool was closed, and as I neared the surrounding fencing, I could manage to see faintly through the cracks. I paused for a closer look through one of the larger cracks in the fence and saw my mom lounging in the water on a floating rubber raft. The raft was a new one and quite large, with a built-in drink holder on the armrest. Mom was laying face up with some chic new designer sunglasses, Wayfarers. She was wearing her only suit, a somewhat dated white bikini with spaghetti straps in the back. There was some fraying on the edges, but mom still seemed to fill out this suit quite nicely. Her tanned Mediterranean olive skin nicely offset the whiteness of the bikini.

For a woman in her late forties, she was extremely well preserved. She stood only about 5 feet 2 inches, but had an ample rack of tits that I had always marveled at. Even after 47 years and 3 children, they stood up quite nicely. On occasion I had spied an oblique glance at her hardened nipples through the angora sweaters she favored in winter months. God, how I loved the feel of her hugs with that sweater on! Although mom was not an athlete by any means, she did maintain a trim body and weighed in at around 115 lbs. Her belly had a vertical caesarian section scar thanks to my little sister, Gina, but was otherwise flat. In today's world, I guess she would be aptly named a spinner-M.I.L.F.

The split second it took me to swing open the pool gate would change my life forever. As I released the gate latch and entered with a loud, "Look who's back!" I caught my mom quickly remove her hand from her white bikini bottom. "Greg!" she cried out, "I didn't expect to see you until tomorrow afternoon!" With her sunglasses on, it was hard to tell what her eyes were saying, but her tone of voice indicated a bit of disappointment and exasperation for some reason. Mom could have a very hot temper at times, but she seemed to be holding it back a bit now. As I spoke, a thousand ideas flew trough my mind regarding what I had just seen my mom do.

"I was offered a ride back home early with Tim McGrath's family, so I took it. I could give Tim a call back to see if I could have a sleepover at his house tonight istanbul escort if you want." I said, hoping to calm her a bit.

"Don't be silly, honey! It's great to see you back! How was camp? Tell me everything!". Her mood seemed to lighten very quickly, and she moved her sunglasses to the top of her head. Her eyes had a happy/sleepy look I had only seen her have at the cocktail parties she and dad hosted once in a while at our house. She clearly was looking forward to a quite night alone at her home, with all the pleasures that might accompany it. I had evidently spoiled that for her.

"Tell you what, Greg. You can tell me everything over dinner. I've made a fresh pasta sauce and we can have a nice meal together later. Why don't you put on your suit and join me for a quick dip before dinner?" she asked, as she took a long sip from her Seven