Meeting the Birth Mother, Part II - Sex Stories

Meeting the Birth Mother, Part II

... out until I get home, go swimming, whatever. You can get to know her and decide for yourself.”

“Will she also be suits optional?”

“Hah! She’ll probably be wearing some kind of a granny one-piece. She’s just as repressed as the rest.”

“Where do you keep your swimsuits?”

“Second drawer down on the left. Why?”

I padded across the room and opened the drawer. There were three sets of bikinis and two one pieces. The yellow one-piece was still hanging in the bathroom drying.

I sorted through them and left only a microscopic string bikini and another nearly-invisible one-piece. The rest I took and hid in my room.

“What’s going on in that devious mind of yours?” my mother called from her room.

“You’ll find out later,” I called back. “Just don’t forget you’re my mommy whore.”

After a quick breakfast my mom drove us to campus. I spent most of the day in orientation then wandered to the library, where Cora was doing some research.

I recognized her quickly from her picture. She was small, like me, just over five feet, with dark hair. She wore a baggy T-shirt and khaki pedal pushers.

Cora was poring over some books. She looked up as I approached and smiled. We went through some basic introductions.

“Can you give me another ten minutes?” she asked once we got through the introductory small talk.

“Sure,” I said. “Is it okay if I wait in the car?”

“No problem,” she replied and tossed me the keys. I pointed to her overfull bookbag beside her on the ...

... floor.

“Want me to carry that out for you?” I asked. She nodded gratefully.

Out in the car, I opened the bag. There was a swimsuit that your grandmother would have considered too modest tucked in the bottom. I shook my head and stuffed it into my bag, then zipped her bag up and dumped it in the trunk.

We chatted on the ride home. From what I was able to glean, she was in a committed relationship with a guy she knew from church, she was straight, she taught Sunday School, and she was the the model of wholesome.

When we got home, I went in my room, pulled on my trunks, and came out just in time to hear Cora’s gentle swearing in the bathroom.

I knocked on the door politely. “You okay in there?”

“I forgot my swimsuit,” she called from behind the door. “I would have sworn I put it in here.”

“My mom probably has a couple around,” I said. “I don’t know where she keeps them but I’ll check. Hang on.”

I returned a moment later with the two suits I had hand-picked that morning.

“This was all I could find,” I said, handing them through the cracked door. “She probably has others but maybe they must be at the cleaners or in her car.”

“Are you kidding?” Cora said. “I can’t wear these. There’s nothing there. One’s invisible and the other’s like three candy wrappers tied together with ribbon.”

“It’s just the two of us, whose going to see?”

“You’ll see. I bet you’d like that wouldn’t you,” she sneered.

I would, but that was beside the point. “What? You think ...