A Fatherly Reminiscence

When Harold, age 14, is caught by Mom having sex with a classmate, he waits to be punished by Dad. Harold's father instead tells his boy about his first romp!

Part One

Harold Kilrain, my 14-year-old son, was unfortunately caught by my wife, Helen, entertaining a similar-aged girl in his bedroom one Saturday afternoon. He wasn’t reciting poetry or doing card tricks for her. They were doing the most basic physical activity in the world—and Helen interrupted them in the act.

Helen was supposed to be gone all afternoon on a shopping trip with her sister Amanda, but amazingly and uncharacteristically she cut it short by a couple of hours when the two of them found everything they wanted and needed in record time. Harold, the poor schmuck, had no idea Helen had returned home that afternoon in early July. He was too busy and too noisy in his romantic pursuits with a classmate who lived two blocks away to hear Helen’s compact car pull into our driveway.

When Helen entered the house, she could hear some giggles and passionate moans coming from Harold’s room. Being the wise woman that she was, Helen immediately suspected what was going on. She slowly opened the bedroom door and discovered her instincts were accurate. Harold was merely embarrassed while the girl, a sexy little brunette named Jacklyn Bonney, was downright horrified. She quickly dismounted my boy—she apparently was riding him like a pro—got herself dressed in record time, and fled out the door in tears without saying a word. Helen was nearly speechless herself. This behavior was quite unlike her scholarly and studious son who seemed to only have a passing interest in the opposite sex. All Helen could say to the guilty Harold was, “I’ll let your father deal with this issue when he comes home in a couple of hours.” She was greatly annoyed, but the words came out of her mouth calmly.

Part Two

I, Darren Kilrain, was apprised of the situation about five seconds after I came home. My first reaction was to laugh at the news—which is not at all what Helen wanted or expected from me. My naughty son Harold was now downstairs in the family room, watching something on television, waiting nervously for me to lay down the law.

When I approached him, Harold looked at me with a sort of blank expression. He didn’t know how I was going to react. Quite frankly, neither did I. I sat next to him on the leather couch, put my left hand on his shoulder, and did my best to give him an understanding smile. “Your mother tells me she caught you at an awkward moment today, Harold. Is that right?”

“It was the most awkward moment possible,” Harold immediately corrected me and then he freely began to elaborate. “Jacklyn and I were having a fuck in my bedroom. I don’t deny it. I didn’t expect Mom to be home for a couple of hours, so I called Jacklyn on the phone and invited her to come over for a visit. Here’s the ironic part, Dad: It was all Jacklyn’s idea. We’ve sort of been a couple for a few months—and she’s been pressuring me for sex, not the other way around. When she arrived here a few minutes later and saw that no one else was at home, she basically started to slowly peel off her clothing without saying a single word in advance. Finally, when she was down to her skivvies, she said to me, ‘Harold, I’m not going to stop until I have nothing on, so you might as well get naked too so we can both enjoy a wonderful and intimate experience together.’”

I paused to make sure Helen wasn’t within earshot. I could hear from her movements on the upper floor that she was nowhere near the staircase. Knowing that, I safely commented, “Jacklyn sounds like my kind of girl!”

Harold’s facial expression indicated that he had not expected any levity from me at all. I think my complete lack of anger emboldened him, so he continued the recap. “We got about five minutes of fucking in. Jacklyn had me on my back and she was doing a good job riding my erection. I was starting to thoroughly enjoy screwing her this way when Mom suddenly entered my bedroom without knocking. Jacklyn panicked, got dressed quickly, and fled the house. I haven’t worked up the nerve to call her yet to see how she is doing after being so embarrassed. Being interrupted like that had to be traumatic for her.”

I laughed slightly and said to my son that I suspected Jacklyn might be slightly more experienced in sexual matters than he was.

“That wouldn’t be too difficult. I don’t know about Jacklyn’s sexual history, but this was my first time,” Harold confessed.

“I thought so—and Mom unfortunately ruined it for you by cutting short her shopping trip with Aunt Amanda!” I said, trying to be as sympathetic as possible. “That was just plain bad luck for you, son.” I then told Harold that I could hardly fault a healthy 14-year-old boy for complying with a shapely classmate who was disrobing and desired sex with him. It reminds me of…” I decided to stop myself before I said something very private.

“What were you going to say to me, Dad?” Harold asked with more than a regular amount of curiosity. “Was it something about your first sexual experience?”

“Well, yes it was,” I admitted.

“How old were you?” Harold pressed me.

“By coincidence, Harold, I was the very same age that you are now,” I replied. “I was a few months past my fourteenth birthday. Here’s another coincidence: Just like your situation, it was the girl’s idea, too. Can you believe that? This girl—let’s call her Linda so she remains anonymous—approached me for sex completely out of the blue. I said yes, but I don’t think she would have taken no for an answer.”

Thin time it was my son who chuckled. Any fears that Harold had of being in trouble had vanished. He gave me a cheeky grin and asked for more details about the day I lost my virginity. I said, “Well, okay. I’ll give you a brief summary of what happened on that long-ago day.”

“Make it a very long summary if you like, Dad. I want to hear all the sordid details!” Harold quipped. My son certainly had the same sense of humor as I did.

“I’m 38 now,” I began my reminiscence, “so I guess it was 24 summers ago. Like you, I was home alone. I was trying to build a model airplane from a kit I had gotten as a birthday gift several weeks earlier. That wasn’t exactly my cup of tea, but since it was a gift, I figured I’d give it a try.

“It was a lovely August day—not too hot with a gentle breeze blowing, so I took the kit outside and set it on the family’s picnic table. I had just emptied the contents into a box and looked at them with dismay. There was no way on Earth I was going to complete it. I wasn’t a builder by any stretch of the imagination. I couldn’t put things together if my life depended on it. Heck, I even hated doing jigsaw puzzles. Therefore, building a model airplane—I recall it was a Spitfire—was way out of my league.

“I was sitting there, staring at all the pieces, when Linda—a pretty blonde girl from my neighborhood--quietly approached me. She was standing beside me before I even noticed she was near. I was sort of friends with her brother, Tommy. We had been in the same class at school the past two years, but we weren’t really buddies. I only knew Linda as Tommy’s sister.

“She said hello to me in a very friendly manner. Linda was quite a pretty girl, and she was wearing an attractive summer dress. It was red with white polka dots. I remember that clearly. She asked me what I was doing. I told her my intent was to build a model airplane from the pile of pieces I had dumped in the box, but I had given up before I had even started. She was sympathetic. She said it looked like it would be difficult and boring. I agreed wholeheartedly with her!

“Linda asked me if I were alone. I said I was. Then, completely out of left field, she said to me without any hesitation, ‘Darren, let’s do something fun. Let’s have a fuck together. I think I’d like to do that with you. In fact, I know I would.’”

Harold’s interest in my story suddenly increased dramatically. “How did you respond to her, Dad?” he asked me. His body language indicated that he could hardly wait for my answer.

“I had to make sure I heard her right, so I asked Linda to repeat herself. She said a second time that she wanted to have a fuck with me. Of course, I did what any sensible 14-year-old male would do under those circumstances: I opened the door to the house and let her in.

“I decided to get creative. I wasn’t entirely sure, but I figured our having sex might get a little bit messy. In order to avoid me having to do a post-fuck cleanup, I suggested we have sex in the bathtub. I needed a bath so it seemed sensible and fortuitous that I should have the greatest bath in my life with lovely Linda sharing the tub with me. She agreed. I turned on the water, put in a capful of scented bubble bath, and helped Linda take off her clothes.”

“She allowed you to undress her?” Harold asked me, somewhat incredulously as if it were a kinky bit of foreplay.

“Sure! It was all part of the fun, son.”

“Lucky you!” Harold responded.

“Yes, I suppose it was my lucky day, indeed,” I said in return before continuing my tale of teenage sexual conquest. Linda was gorgeous in her birthday suit. She didn’t have much in the way of tits, but I had fun with them anyway even before we got into the warm water together.”

“Can I ask you exactly what type of fun you and she had, Dad?” Harold wanted to know.

“I kissed, licked and sucked on every part of her body from her breasts to her behind. I had great fun and Linda enjoyed it, too. It’s a terrific way to begin a bath for two, son. I highly recommend it!”

“Wow!” Harold uttered in complete admiration of my sexual prowess from 24 years ago.

“As you can imagine, my dick was now solid as the Rock of Gibraltar, son,” I told him. “I quickly got undressed down to my briefs. I let Linda have the honor of removing those from my body. She struggled a bit to get them over my obvious erection. It was a doozy and I was happy to show it off to Linda. I told her she was wholly responsible for it. She took it as a compliment—because that’s what it was. Then we climbed into the half-filled tub. The water’s temperature was just right: warm, but nowhere near scalding. I actually lifted Linda into the bath. She was considerably smaller than I was, so her weight was a non-issue.

“I positioned Linda in the tub, so we were initially facing each other. She had her sexy legs almost wrapped around me so we could be as close together as possible. We had more fun fondling each other’s lower areas. I especially liked the way Linda stroked my penis. She used two hands—first one then the other—all the while telling me how big it was. What an absolute sweetheart Linda was! I made sure her pussy got a good fingering from me. At one point, I slid my middle finger of my right hand fully inside her. She yelped for a second and then quickly got to like the feeling of being penetrated.

“I eventually figured out the best way for the two of us to have intercourse was both of us to be facing the same direction with Linda in front of me impaled on my hard penis. It was the greatest feeling in my life when My dick entered her tight vagina. I maybe lasted two minutes because I was so aroused. I didn’t want to risk an unplanned pregnancy so I pulled out at literally the last possible moment and shot a large load of warm, white goo onto Linda’s upper back. For some reason I still don’t understand, Linda thought my strong ejaculation striking her on her back was the funniest experience she had ever had. I was a little bit insulted by that. Anyway, I just cuddled and kissed with her until the bath water became noticeably cold. At that point we were done. We got out of the tub, dried each other off, and Linda went on her way. That was our first and last sexual encounter.”

“Do you know what became of her?” Harold asked me. “Maybe she has a daughter around my age.”
“I can certify that she does, son. She has a girl who turned 12 about a month ago. I wouldn’t recommend you courting her for the purpose of marriage, though,” I said to Harold enigmatically.

Harold gave me a pensive look and said, “Hey, something is fishy here. Dad, what aren’t you telling me about this?”

I decided to come clean and tell the biggest secret of my life to my adolescent son. “The 12-year-old girl is your cousin Olive. My bathtub buddy that day 24 years ago, the one I’ve been referring to as Linda, was your Aunt Amanda.”

“You screwed Aunt Amanda before you married Mom!” Harold blurted a little too loudly for my comfort. Since I didn’t hear Helen charging down the stairs to angrily confront me, I figured she hadn’t overheard what Harold said.

“Yes, I’ve told you many times I grew up in the same neighborhood as your mother and aunt. My classmate Tommy is your Uncle Thomas who lives 2,000 miles away. I think you’ve only met him a couple of times in your life. Your Mom doesn’t know a thing about my fling with her sister when I was 14 years old—and I intend to keep it that way. Amanda agrees too. What’s the point in telling her? So here’s the deal, son: You never say a word about this and I won’t seize your allowance for a month. Just keep your mouth shut and I’ll quietly keep giving it to you each week. That harsh suspension was Mom’s suggested punishment for your aborted romp with Jacklyn today.”

We shook hands to seal our gentlemen’s agreement. Harold had a further question about what he just learned. “Dad, do you ever talk to Aunt Amanda about it, though, for old times’ sake?” Harold asked me. It was a reasonable inquiry, I thought.

I told him, “Maybe the last time we spoke about it was five or six years ago, son. However, your aunt is still very affectionate with me. Whenever we’re alone at a family function, she’s always giving me extra cuddles and hugs. I guess she really enjoyed that bubble bath.”

I could almost see the wheels turning in Harold’s head. I knew what was coming. He slowly said to me, “Dad, Mom is a year older than you are, right?”

“To be totally accurate, it’s more like 10 months,” I told him. “You know the dates of both our birthdays, I’m sure.”

Harold continued, “Amanda is Mom’s younger sister, right?”

“Yes, Harold, your mother is older than your Aunt Amanda,” I confirmed. “Your Aunt Ellen, whom you barely know, is older than both your mother and Amanda.”

Harold nodded and continued, “Mom once told me that when she was in the sixth grade, Amanda was…”
I raised my hand to stop my son from making any deductions or further comments about that topic. He went completely quiet, but I said, “I realize you’re excellent at arithmetic, Harold, so go right ahead. Do the math and you’ll figure out exactly what you want to know.”