Double Wedding, Same Day, Same Place, Sixteen Was Old Enough

My mother has a friend from long ago. When I went to her friend's house my mother pointed out all the art on the wall, an original Botero, a Modigliani, other famous painters, many I had never heard of. A nude over her son's bed. There were lots and lots of women, some nudes, other's not. Her friend loves women my mother told me, I didn't catch that art was one form of loving, loving my mother was another form of love.

Both her son and me were fourteen when my mother told me we were going to Europe in the summer. It was the two of them and he and I. They, the mothers, were in one room, he and I in the other room. I guess I was old enough for him to see me naked. My mom told me boys are slow, you may need to wake him up, cuddle him, and jerk him off. I was fourteen and my mother was telling me how to get him to have sex with me.

What happened isn't that I slept with him, stood naked for him, helped him get hard. All that was physical, making love was a whole other level. And we made love, once we got started he wanted it all the time. See, my mother told me, you woke up the monster in him.

Really we were close. It was my mother who told me I was in love with him. Seriously? You think? I couldn't breathe if I wasn't with him. While my mother was downstairs in the master bedroom, I was asleep beside him under the watchful eye of the nude lady over his bed. We, he, made love on me, there was never enough. I admit, I needed him to make love to me, I had this feeling inside me that never went away.

They, the mothers got married. We the kids were married that same day. We were a little older than sixteen, that was old enough.