First Week

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Mother helps her first week in new house.
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The first week in our house ended very well. Let me tell you how.

I'm just a regular, plain looking person in my early twenties. You would never notice me in a crowd; I usually just blend in. You won't see me wearing risqué clothing or the latest fashions. And you won't see me in bikini bathing suits or even hanging out at pool parties. But I do have a sexual side.

A few years ago we moved into a house on a pretty major street here in town. The house almost sits on the street itself. It's actually about ten feet from the first lane. We access our house from the back; that's where we park.

The house was built around 1910. The construction is lath and plaster. Closets are very small. Doors are those really thin wood ones.

There are three levels: the basement is where we enter from the back; up one set of stairs you get to the kitchen and living areas; then up another flight are the bedrooms.

You pass my parents' room first on the right, then you come to the bathroom on the left and next to it is the door to my room.

My room is small but it's very comfortable. My closet is small, too, and can't hold many clothes. I wonder what they were thinking of when they made these houses back then. Where in the world did they put their clothes? They certainly weren't nudists.

While unpacking that first week I found something that eventually led to an extraordinary experience. I was putting some things on the shelf in the closet and I noticed that the wall above the shelf had not been covered completely to the ceiling; I could see into the wall itself. I didn't think much of it at first but I did want to make a point of mentioning it to my father so he could close it off.

That night as I lay in bed I was gazing at that area through the open closet doorway. I was thinking about how these old houses were made. How different they were than the ones made today.

I noticed a light was on somewhere and was shining through that open part of the wall and into my closet. It wasn't very bright at all, but quite dim. After a while I realized that the light was not steady either - it was moving... flickering like a candle does. Sometimes I'm very slow at seeing what may be right in front of me, but after watching the light do its little dance for a while it dawned on me that it must be coming from my parents' room.

I got out of bed, got a chair and, standing on my toes, I could see into their room. The other side of that wall was their closet, and their closet door was open and I could see them on their bed.

They were "at it" sort of, but it wasn't all that hot; they were just embracing with my mother on top of my dad. I stood there watching for I have no idea how long. I don't know if it was one minute or thirty. I had never seen them like that before but I have certainly seen them a lot since then.

After a while my mother slipped to the side, blew out the candles, and they drifted off to sleep. I could still barely see them laying there because of the little light left from the street. They looked nice.

I got back in bed and thought about a lot of things. I remember very distinctly taking on a love for candles. And I remember deciding to spy on them as much as I could. I hadn't seen very much that time, but what I did see made me want more.

That was a Friday night.

The next afternoon I came home with a candle as a gift for my mother.

"Jennifer, thank you. What's the occasion?".

"I was just thinking of you."

And that night I was back on my chair looking through the wall. But I saw nothing because, although I think they were at it, their closet door was closed.

Sunday night was different, though. Sunday night their closet door was open again, candles were lit and I had my first sex lesson. Let me say that I was pretty naïve up until then.

When I began looking this time they evidently had just started messing around. They still had their night clothes on. My father wears a night shirt that comes to his knees and my mother usually wears some skimpy kind of shirt and a pair of panties. I came to find out that she usually wears lace panties to bed because they turn my dad on. So she wears one pair by day and after bathing puts on another pair for the night. But that pair usually doesn't last long; give it a half hour and they're usually on the floor. My parents are very horny people.

What I saw that night turned out to be fairly standard "action" if you will. I guess they have gotten to the point of liking their sex a certain way and they have favorite things they like to do, so most nights were like this one.

Let me just tell you quickly what they "usually" do because that's not really the major thrust of this story anyway. As it turns out, my dad loves to watch my mother masturbate. And then he masturbates while she watches him. They both love it. And I love to watch it.

Before that night I had never masturbated. I know it sounds strange, but I was never much into sex. The most I had done was enjoy playing with my nipples while in the shower. That night was different, though. As I watched my mother masturbate I became fascinated. I wanted to do that so bad that I almost couldn't wait for them to stop. I wanted to go try it myself but I didn't want to miss anything.

They finally finished. I got down, got into bed, and started masturbating like I had just seen my mother do. It felt good... VERY good. But it didn't feel like I thought it felt for my mother. It seemed that she had enjoyed it far more than I was. Maybe the way she was doing it was different than what I thought I saw.

But I kept at it. I wet my fingers and that helped. I closed my eyes trying to see her in my head and then do it just the way she was doing it.

But then both the sound of the door swinging open and my mother's voice came to my ear and I was one girl, definately interrupted.

"Jennifer?"

That gave me a start. "Yes?"

"May I come in?"

"Sure."

She came over to my bed and sat down on the edge. She was in her robe. She put her hand on my forehead and brushed my hair aside. "I was on my way to the bathroom and I heard you."

"Oh?"

"Yes..." She smiled at me and put her hand across me and onto my shoulder. She stared at me with her smile for just a few seconds and then took my head in both of her hands and leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. (I love it when she does that and she knows that I do.) Then she looked me in the eyes and gave me that smile that has always told me that she loves me and asked me in a whisper "Were you masturbating?"

After a pretty long pause I said, "Yes, I was."

A really nice thing about my mom is that she has always made sure that I knew she loved me. And no matter what I have ever done she never faltered in that love for me. So I had the benefit of knowing that even if she had not approved of what I did, it would not matter. Times like this were when she would then "teach" me her viewpoint, help me understand it, and then even help me make my own choice.

"Do you do it very often?"

"This is the first time."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah."

She looked a bit puzzled and then she looked around the room. Then she looked back at me; then around the room again. After another puzzled look she kissed me once again on the forehead, said "I'll be right back", and she left the room.

In just a few minutes she came back in, closed my door, sat down again, kissed me again on the forehead, and said "I think I know what happened."

It felt a little awkward. Maybe very awkward. And she asked "Do you feel a little awkward?".

I said "Uh, Yeah."

"Do you think I know why?"

"I think you might."

"I probably do. But neither one of us wants to say it in case we're wrong, huh?"

"Probably."

She said "Well, the chances are good that we're talking about the same thing. Why don't you tell me?"

"All right," I said. And then I paused for quite a while before saying, "I was watching you and dad."

She kissed me on the forehead and smiled at me, made a small chuckle, and said "That's OK."

Well, I was relieved. But then I hadn't feared her being mad about it.

"So, are you masturbating because you saw me?"

"Yes."

"How is it?"

"It's fine. But it doesn't feel as good as I expected."

I could see her thinking while she was looking at me. Then she rose and said "I'll be right back."

She was back again in a couple of minutes. "I told your father we need to spend some time together. And I brought you this," and she handed me a tube of "personal liquid."

She said, "You'll like this."

I took it and paused for a bit. Then I looked up at her sort of not knowing what she wanted me to do.

"Here," she said, and she took it back. "Take off your night shirt."

I took it off. My mother took off her robe and she laid down beside me. She had had nothing on underneath her robe and now her body touched mine. I already liked it.

She propped herself up on one elbow, told me to relax, put some of the "PL" (as I like to call it) on her fingers and began to rub me very gently. WOW... it really felt nice and I told her so. Then she put some on my own fingers and had me do it. She instructed "Don't go very fast unless you really want to badly. Orgasms will come when they are good and ready. Don't ever force them. Let them come on their own. The most important part of anything sexual is just feeling good while you're doing whatever it is you want." She said all of these things quietly in my ear as I was masturbating. And I was doing it slowly like she said. It was great.

As I continued masturbating she said "While you masturbate I am going to do a few things and then I'm going to just stay with you and cuddle with you for as long as you want. If you want me to leave so you can do this by yourself, that's OK with me; I won't mind." And I know she would not have minded... but I did want her to stay with me.

This was all very nice. I kept rubbing myself, and my mother rose and kissed me on the forehead again. I opened my eyes and watched her as she did. She watched me masturbate and then kissed me again.

Then she said "If I do anything you don't like, you tell me. The object here is for you to feel good, OK?"

"All right."

She propped herself again on her elbow, and leaned over and kissed me very gently on my mouth. She asked "would you like to kiss some more?" I knew she wasn't asking to just kiss again; she meant did I want to kiss more deeply. I did want to. I nodded my head and said "Oh, yeah." So the next kiss was very passionate. And she massaged my breasts. And I continued to rub myself.

This was not the real heaven but it was right next door. Here I was, slowly masturbating for real the very first time, and my mother was kissing me and massaging me.

"How are you doing?" she asked.

"This is beautiful," I said.

She lay down next to me and though she stopped kissing me and massaging me, she kept her arm over me, holding onto my shoulder and she kept her mouth close to my ear as she whispered encouragement to me while I slowly got closer and closer to a fantastic orgasm.

I could tell I was getting close. I said "Mother?"

"Yes?"

"Hold me really tight." I wanted her to press herself into me. I felt this really strong need to have a tremendous hug.

She put one leg over in between mine. I touched it as I masturbated; I liked that.

She tightened her arm around me and pulled me into her. She buried her head deep into my neck. She kissed me just below my ear. And she whispered, "Jennifer, I'm right here with you."

And then I had this orgasm. The first one in my life. I will never, ever, ever forget it. I have no idea how long it lasted. I do know I was humping up and down as I had it, and I remember very well that my mother held onto me tightly and it seemed like she was part of the orgasm itself. WOW!

Even after I calmed down we lay there for quite some time. My mother held me all the while.

Finally, she asked if there was anything else I would like.

"Yes," I said. "I'd like to kiss you again."

So we embraced and kissed. And I told her, "Thank you."

She rose from the bed, put on her robe, handed me the "PL" from the nightstand and said, "Keep this. And if you ever want me, Jennifer, just let me know. I'm here for you." Then she went out.

I lay there for what seemed like a long time thinking about what had happened. I loved it. And it seemed as though my mother was willing to do that again. And that would be very cool. Or hot, I should say.

As I drifted off to sleep I was looking forward to the second week in our house.

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