As you probably guessed (with me still being a virgin at 19), the events I describe took place many years ago, and I was not very sexually informed (lets be honest I was naive). But in those days things were very different. I’d had a few girl-friends, but in the early 60’s the female animal was still (mostly) the official guardian of moral values (not like today!). Sexual intercourse was a no-no, and even touching a girl’s breast was a privilege a boy had to earn. That said, I don’t suppose many of the young people today understand just how much joy a couple could experience just by kissing and cuddling all evening. There was a kind of innocent ‘bonding’ in those days entirely absent from many modern relationships. Back then full sex when it came was a ‘rite of passage’ (and the end of a very long road built of trust and belief).
Anyway my point is, I knew enough to understand what it meant to be frustrated. I was, after all, pretty frustrated myself! My sex life (whilst living with mother) consisted of snatched moments in the toilet, masturbating to smuggled pictures of women in exotic lingerie (usually stolen from mother’s Home Catalogues or very rarely a smutty magazine I’d found somewhere). I confess there were even times (when mother was out) when I’d open her underwear draw and gently finger her bras or stockings or suspenders (in those days female under-garments were much more complex… and far more interesting). I should add, however, that in the beginning it was the lingerie itself that turned me on, and not the fact it was my mother’s.
For many days after that engineer’s visit I thought about what he’d said, and what it implied. Since my father had died I’d only seen mother with one other man and that didn’t last very long. I wondered to myself why she had not sort to make other new relationships. Maybe in those days it was hard for an older person to meet new people (I mean it wasn’t exactly easy back then even at my age. This was long before the Internet!). So maybe she’d given up, and all that pent-up frustration was coming out in another way?
What followed started out as a sort of personal joke. Whilst considering how I might be able to help mother find a new and more satisfying relationship I suddenly thought to myself, ‘well maybe I should take the initiative… and seduce her myself’. I remember I laughed out loud. That would solve both our problems, I thought, and I had a momentary vision of holding my mother down and having sex with her on the cold kitchen floor. I chuckled again at the idea and immediately dismissed it.
But it didn’t want to go away so easy. That fleeting vision had made me hard, and it was like a seed that once planted grew all by itself, and the idea would never quite banish itself from the periphery of my consciousness. For a while it just festered there, popping up every now and then (usually when I was close to mother for some reason). But slowly I began to look at her differently. I couldn’t help it. She started to seem more attractive… and more desirable.