Legend of the Magic Cock Ch. 03

The story I told Jake, my eighteen-year-old son, that sultry summer day wasn't actually the story of how I lost my virginity. It was the story of the meandering events that led up his mother and I having sex for the first time. The following is the story of how I gave my virginity away, and it is the story I told Pam as we sat in my car watching the sun set brilliantly on the day we had first made love. It was important to me that Pam understood the reality of what had happened to allay any jealousy or pain.

Pam meant everything in the world to me at that moment and even though we were both just eighteen-years-old, I was certain she was the one. So, it was vital to me that she understood how and why I wasn't a virgin for our first time together.

So, I explained it to her.

My mother and father loved each other very much. I have memories of us as a family, blurry memories given my age, but all those memories are happy ones of us together. When I search my brain for a picture of my parents, in my mind it is always sunny, they are always smiling and I always feel loved and safe. As I've stated before, my mother denied and delayed her grief for my dad when he died until it became too much for her. I've also pointed out that I carried misplaced guilt that I was to blame as Mom spent all her energy trying to protect and love me after his death.

My mother had a breakdown on my thirteenth birthday. It started when I blew out the candles on my cake.

It was Mom, my mom's sister Aunt Debbie, her husband, Uncle Dave, and I at home. Mom started crying, slowly at first. Then she went into a barely understandable rant about how unfair it was that I had to start my teenage years without a father. She wouldn't stop crying and eventually became unresponsive to our soothing. Thankfully, Aunt Debbie is a registered nurse and frankly, she is Aunt Debbie. She took charge. Right then and there, she helped Mom upstairs and into a hot shower. She undressed and dressed my mom putting her to bed with a glass of water and a couple pills that calmed the hysterical anxiety. Before it was even dark on my thirteenth birthday, Aunt Debbie sorted out the medical attention Mom needed starting the very next day.

While medical treatment was necessary, what was really needed was for Mom to take the time to deal with her loss properly. She entered a care facility for a few weeks. Mom worked as an office manager at a doctor's office so they totally understood. I stayed with Aunt Debbie and Uncle Dave. I was fortunate to have a family that loved me.

When Mom came home I could still see the pain and loss, but she looked more like my mom than she had in the past four years. The healing started but was nowhere near complete. She had still lost the love of her life which led her to be somewhat disconnected from the outside world simply focusing on a small sphere of work and family.

She lost interest in her appearance. She wasn't a bag-lady or anything, but she kept her gorgeous chestnut hair, usually so full, long and wavy, cut short for it to be less of a bother. Her clothes tended toward the plain and, quite frankly, frumpy. My mother has a very ample bosom and she used to wear clothes that accentuated her breasts, whereas since Dad died I could hardly tell she had a figure at all. It all looked mushed together; she looked boxy. It was probably more a function of the medication and her loss of appetite that she didn't put on a lot of weight because she was no longer exercising as far as I knew.

The next five years Mom spent fighting her depression to a stalemate. I tried to help her, but I was struggling through the last stages of puberty and then high school so I was my own mess.

A couple months before my eighteenth birthday, however, there was a change in Mom's behavior and mood. She was becoming unfocused and distant. While it didn't seem like the same uncontrollable anxiety she had suffered before, I didn't want another episode like my thirteenth birthday so I promptly called Aunt Debbie. When I explained my fears to her, my aunt's reaction was not what I expected. She said, everything was fine and not to worry. It was a natural side effect of some new medication my mother was taking.

I hung up unconvinced, but Aunt Debbie was the expert and she would never lie to me.

For the next month, nothing much changed. I was both a little relieved that Mom didn't get worse and a little anxious that her situation could deteriorate at any time. What actually happened was neither.

A month out from my birthday, I noticed Mom going to bed later, after me, when we had usually gone to bed around the same time, and I could hear her taking showers really late at night. Then, out of nowhere, Mom started exercising again. She joined a gym, and had me bring up her stationary bike to put in her room across from the television. Within just a few weeks, working out started to show results and Mom was once more becoming very shapely.

Mom's personality became more and more natural, not the stilted, forced pleasantries of the past. She wore nicer, brighter clothes. She became more open. She started conversations, and not just the rote, "How was your day, honey?" I also noticed Mom started sitting with her feet tucked under her like a school girl, especially after she began to slim down from the exercising and became more limber. It was cute, she looked years younger sitting like that while gently rocking back and forth.

I was starting to think that Aunt Debbie had been right and the side effects of the new meds were just temporary and wearing off.

Abruptly, though, just a week before my birthday, all the forward progress stopped. Mom reverted and checked out from life again. I immediately called Aunt Debbie.

"Don't worry, Pete. I know what's going on, and I'm pretty sure everything will be fine. We can talk about it when Uncle Dave and I come out to visit next weekend, birthday boy!" she said excitedly.

I hung up scratching my head. Aunt Debbie didn't seem concerned at all and here I was worried sick. What was I missing.

I didn't have much time to agonize about the situation as my Mom came home from work that day and announced my birthday gift was for us to take a vacation. She had saved up some money, and as it was my eighteenth birthday, I could choose where we went. I was floored. We hadn't taken any kind of vacation outside of visiting family since Dad had passed away.

Mom gave me some basic parameters around cost and such, but let me pick where to go. I thought about New York, California beaches and other such popular destinations, but I had always wanted to see the Grand Canyon so that was to be our destination. Mom crunched the numbers and made it work but we would have to drive. My birthday is in June, so there was no problem with me missing school or sports and Mom had vacation time so we scheduled to leave the Monday after my actual birthday which was the coming Friday.

Even with my unease about Mom, when my birthday finally came around I was psyched. Aunt Debbie and Uncle Dave made the trip over, which was nice and thoughtful of them. They showed up a little after noon on that Friday, and I opened the door to see my lovely, little aunt visibly bouncing up and down with excitement while her husband towered behind her.

Uncle Dave is the greatest man. He is a big, burly giant standing at about six-four with a deep booming voice. I would imagine he is very intimidating to others, but to me he was a great big softy. He had the corniest sense of humor, and he would laugh at anything even his own lame jokes. He was cool and had taught me so many things as a surrogate dad. He's the one that turned me into an amateur handyman and mechanic curious about how things worked.

Aunt Debbie is a five-foot-four ball of unbridled energy. The same dark chestnut hair of my mother, but Aunt Debbie had pale, hazel eyes whereas Mom's eyes where an ethereal deep blue. Aunt Deb stood about two inches shorter than her sister, but with roughly the same dimensions causing her ample bosom and backside to seem bigger and fuller.

The juxtaposition in the doorway of the diminutive dervish and the laid-back giant was always amusing.

"Peter! Happy Birthday!" Aunt Debbie gushed clasping my head pulling me down to her and covering my face in aunt kisses. She pulled back surveying me. "Look at you! My little Petey is all grown up and such a handsome young man! Today is going to be a very special day! Doesn't Pete look handsome and all grown up, Dave," she clapped her hands together seemingly more excited about my birthday than I was.

"You look great, kid," Uncle Dave rumbled ruffling my hair.

"Great to see you guys," I replied and ushered them into the house. "Thank you so much for coming. It's great to see you!" And, I meant every word. These two, wonderful people had helped me so much in my life, I would do anything for them.

Aunt Deb caught my face in her hands again looking deep into my eyes before saying, "You, young man, are something special. Always know that. We love you, and you are very dear to us. I sometimes forget that you just a young man of eighteen. Given all you have gone through and how you have handled it, I see you as older and more mature than your age my sweet, sweet Peter!"

Her sincerity was both flattering and a bit overwhelming at the same time. I didn't know how to react as my aunt was holding me and looking into my eyes adoringly.

"Aw, Aunt Deb. You're just saying that," is really all I could come up with at that moment.

Aunt Debbie patted my cheeks.

"I assume we're staying in the room across from you Pete, as usual. Can you give your Uncle a hand with the bags?" she asked since they were spending the weekend with us. "We have much more than normal. I wonder what could be in those other bags," Aunt Debbie teased indicating the bags that contained the clearly visible wrapped birthday presents.

Mom was still at work, so I helped get Aunt Debbie and Uncle Dave settled in the guest room, and then we met back up on the family room where Uncle Dave did the most predictable thing in the world by planting himself on the sofa, flipping on the television and immediately searched for a ball game. It didn't matter who was playing because he just wanted to watch baseball. Any baseball.

"Dave, would you like a beer?" Aunt Debbie asked completely unnecessarily.

"Yes, dear. Thanks."

"Pete, come with me," Aunt Debbie ordered.

I followed Aunt Debbie into the kitchen for the first time that day. Each visit had its own discoveries.

Aunt Debbie fished out three cans beer from the refrigerator, filled a large bowl with ice nestling the beer cans in the ice and had me shuttle the bowl to Uncle Dave with the addendum, "Come back in; we need to talk."

When I returned, I settled myself across the kitchen table from Aunt Deb. She smiled at me and began.

"Pete, we need to have a discussion an adult level. You're a man now, so we need to have an adult conversation," she said.

"I just turned eighteen today, Aunt Deb," I reminded her.

"Yes, I know," she smirked. "But, focus. We're going to have to talk about some grown-up stuff." She told me in her no-nonsense, nurse voice.

I sat up a bit straighter, and I nodded for her to continue.

"It's about your mom. I think you need to understand what's going on with her and why she has been having the mood swings you've noticed. You see, Pete, Molly's doctor changed her medication a couple months ago. She's not on anti-depressants any longer. While those were necessary for a time, there were some unsavory side-effects. Your mom's current medication is more like an anxiolytic." She noticed my blank look. "Anti-anxiety medication. Although what her doctor has her on is a bit different. It's new; I don't know much about it. In any case, it reduces anxiety. In this way, it is a lot like alcohol but less addictive or destructive."

Aunt Debbie took a pause, and then rushed forward.

"There's no way to avoid saying this, so here it is: her medication, while not directly, is making Molly... sexually frustrated."

I thought about that for a while. "You mean horny?" I asked.

Aunt Debbie cocked her head to one side.

"Yes," she answered with an approving nod. "Horny. My sister hasn't had sex since your dad passed away. With reduced anxiety, Molly's inhibitions are down which allows her for the first time, in a very long time, to be open to what her body has been trying to tell her. In short, after over nine years without sexual gratification, your mom is very horny."

I wasn't embarrassed; I was concerned. What Aunt Debbie was telling me wasn't salacious to me; it was worrisome. I think she picked up on that too, as she gave me another approving nod.

"Isn't there anything that can be done to help her, or at least calm the sexual frustration?" I implored.

"Sure, there is," she said with an edge of frustration. "Since Molly will have nothing to do with dating or men, I offered to get her a toy."

I thought for a second. "You mean like a vibrator?" I asked. "Or a dildo?"

"Exactly!" she replied. "You're perceptive, you know that, Pete," she said patting my thigh just above my knee. "Anyway, she turned down the idea. It was too unbecoming, she said. Whatever that means! So, I said, just use your fingers!"

Aunt Debbie was getting worked up. Her one hand was gesturing; her other was kneading my thigh.

"Molly said she'd be fine. Sex was over for her with the love of her life gone, and she wouldn't stoop to masturbation which surprised me because she would to go to town on herself when we used to share a bedroom."

Aunt Debbie abruptly stopped, realizing what she just said. She looked me in the eyes to see if the revelation that my mom had fingered herself shocked me. For an eighteen-year-old guy who, odds were, would've been jacking-off at that very moment if not having a conversation with his aunt, it didn't seem all that lurid.

When I didn't show any reaction, Aunt Debbie rubbed her hand around my thigh reassuringly moving a bit higher to the meatier muscle and continued.

"Anyway, it's why she seems distant and disconnected, Pete. She is simply struggling with her own desires. As you said, she's horny. At some point, she will have to give in and let herself have the release she needs. With her inhibitions down, though, you have to be prepared that Molly might not be very discreet."

"Discreet?" I asked.

"She may rub against things, like table corners and such, absentmindedly. She won't really be aware of what she's doing. Like, her hands may stray down to idly rub her herself," she explained. "But, don't draw attention to her behavior, ok? It would mortify her if she thought you noticed, and frankly she needs to take care of her needs sooner or later. Just let her be."

"Ok, no problem. I'm just glad there's a solution, even if Mom's being stubborn about it," I said picturing how Mom had recently began sitting with her legs folded under her while slowly rocking. With what my aunt just told me, I thought there may have been another reason for the new position, like maybe, rubbing her clit on her heel as she rocked.

"That's very mature of you, Pete. Very level-headed," she said smiling giving my thigh another squeeze.

Maybe I was being mature, but I'm not sure I would call getting a hard-on while my cute, vivacious aunt worked my thigh as we talked about my mother masturbating level-headed.

"Now that I think about it, Mom had been going to bed later and then taking showers even later. And, there were noises, I just thought she'd been on her stationary bike working out then showering. I guess maybe something else was going on," I reasoned. "But, then all that stopped and she became weird and distant again."

Then, a mental picture of my mother fingering herself exploded into my mind as my dick grew and grew.

"Well, I wouldn't worry too much. I'll talk to her to see what's going on," Aunt Debbie assured me. "Now, let me go and get ready to..." she started as she began to stand using her massaging hand to push herself up.

The bulge in my shorts was unmistakable and Aunt Debbie was staring straight at it as she straightened up. She seemed mesmerized. She tilted her head to one side in her way, smiled and said, "Turning eighteen, just today. I get it, Pete. Sorry, to... um... get you a little over heated."

Aunt Deb bit her lower lip and shook her head slightly before saying, "I have to go get ready."

At around three in the afternoon, Mom came home and we had a family birthday party. Mom had let me plan a party with my friends for later that night, but the afternoon was just for family. We had cake and my aunt and uncle were far too generous in the gift department. As we were cleaning up, Aunt Deb gave me a covert nod to give her some time alone with my mom. I grabbed a can of beer and lured my uncle to the television with the promise of a ball game. Uncle Dave is not a hard man to manipulate.

A little while later, Mom came out of the kitchen and said she was going up to get ready for the party. Aunt Debbie appeared in the entrance of the family room.

"Pete, can you give me a hand?" she asked.

"Sure thing!" I called, and followed her into the kitchen, again.

Once situated back at the table, Aunt Debbie brought me up to speed.

"You were right, Pete. Molly was taking care of herself, so to speak, but then she stopped a little over a week ago. That pretty much explains her mood shift," Aunt Debbie sighed.

"Shit," I said. "Why did she stop?"

"I don't know, your mom wasn't very forthcoming or comfortable talking about it. If I had to guess, it's her subconscious sabotaging any happiness she experiences. Given how she has reacted to most things over the years since your dad died, I think she feels that she has no right to be happy; being happy somehow diminishes her grief," Aunt Debbie finished shrugging her shoulders. "She feels guilty being happy without your father."

I let out a long breath of air. What Aunt Debbie said made sense and was probably true.

"That's so fucking stupid," I said. Not angrily, but more as a form of surrender. It is impossible to make someone happy who doesn't want to be happy, or so I thought.

A couple hours later my friends started to arrive. The party was nothing major, but we had a good time. I had invited a girl I really liked, Pam Tarrant, and, she came! I played it cool, well as cool as I could which meant I didn't literally slobber on her. In fact, we kind of connected. We both liked some pretty obscure video games, of all things. A girl that liked video games, who knew, right. I asked her out for when I came back from vacation.

And. She. Said. Yes!

Around, ten that evening my friends started to file out. Pam lingered and left at the very end. Both Mom and Aunt Debbie had their arms folded across their ample chests playfully pursing their lips when I turned from saying goodnight to Pam. They just shook their heads at me and started to clean up.

Surveying the mess, it dawned on me that maybe my party had been a bit more major than I thought. I guess I spent so much time caught up with Pam, I didn't notice as the party grew.

"Come on, Pete. Let's start hauling garbage!" bellowed Uncle Dave. He had been sneaking beers all night long. I have never seen anyone able to ingest as much alcohol as my Uncle Dave without passing out. Sure, he was a little tipsy but considering the sheer volume of beer he'd consumed, he probably should've been in a coma.

We spent the next half hour dredging the house to get it near livable again. My mom dusted off her hands saying she was going to take a shower to get the party grime off of her. Uncle Dave popped another beer plopping himself down on the sofa and flipped on the television. Given the time, he had to find a West Coast game.