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Message-ID: <39885asstr$1039997404@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Nick Scipio <imperatorSPAM@BLOCKmindspring.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} RP: Summer Camp - Chapter 09 (mF, teen, oral)
Date: Sun, 15 Dec 2002 19:10:04 -0500
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Author: Nick Scipio
Title: Summer Camp - Book 1: Susan
Part: Chapter 09
Universe: Summer Camp
Summary: Coming-of-age story about a teenager whose family spends 
their summer vacations at a nudist camp.
Keywords: mF, teen, oral
Revision: 1.1
Archive: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/scipio/SummerCamp1
Mailing List: Scipio_Stories-subscribe@yahoogroups.com
FAQ: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/scipio/www/faq.htm

*****************************************************************
                       STANDARD DISCLAIMER

The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT 
entertainment. It contains material of an adult, explicit, SEXUAL 
nature. If you are offended by sexually explicit content or 
language, please DO NOT read any further.

All characters in this story are fictitious; any similarity to 
any persons, places, individuals or situations is purely 
coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse 
any of the activities described in this story.

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without 
the written permission of the author, Nick Scipio 
(imperatorSPAM@BLOCKmindspring.com). This story may be freely 
distributed with this disclaimer attached.

Copyright (c) 2002 Nick Scipio. All rights reserved.

*****************************************************************

Summer Camp - Book 1: Susan
by Nick Scipio

CHAPTER NINE

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.

-----

Copyright (c) 2002 Nick Scipio. All rights reserved.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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