Starting Over Ch. 01

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This story takes place in a universe of my own creation. It is very similar to this one but neither the people or location exist anywhere but, in my mind, and on these pages. Even if you look them up and find them and they look exactly as I describe them, they are not the same. All character’s engaging in sexual acts is at least 18 or older. This story contains Incest and Pregnancy risk. If either of these disturb or disgust you read NO further. If you are still reading, I hope you enjoy this first installment and look forward to more.

Starting Over

My first 14 years of life was pretty normal, I thought. I was the baby of a family of 4. My Dad was 2 years older than my Mom and I have an older sister by 4 years. I never remembered any fights in the house between any of us. Sure, we had disagreements and some of them could be loud, but it was never mean or hurtful, just passion of believing their side were right. Just about the time I turned 8 and my sister was 12 my father started traveling for work.

As a result, I never really got the chance to bond with him like I imagine most fathers and sons do. We didn’t play catch. He never taught me about sports, cars, girls, or any of the stuff good dads do with their sons. Over the next six years, that we should have been doing all this, he spent 75% of that time away, and what time he was home he spent ‘resting’ or getting ready to go away again. I started resenting my family, my dad was never around for me and my mom and sister were always off doing girly things. I had a couple of close friends and they really didn’t have it any better, one had a drunk abusive father, so I still counted myself lucky.

By the time Anna, my sister, entered High School I just started puberty. With no father to guide me I was stuck with my pervy friends and the internet to educate me. My mother tried, when she noticed my voice changing and ‘evidence’ left when washing my bed sheets. All this did was draw me further away from her, out of embarrassment and we weren’t that close anyway. It all came to ahead at the end of the summer before I started High School. My sister was going to start as a freshman at a local college and was preparing to move into the dorms there. My father was home for a change and was in the shower preparing to leave on another trip.

I remember being in my room playing video games, my mother was packing my dad’s suitcase, and Anna had just taken some boxes out to her car for the move to her dorm the next day. I heard Dad’s cellphone going off again and again. Shortly after, my Mom started yelling at my Dad. It was the first time I heard true anger in our house. My father raised his voice too, but I didn’t hear anger in it. A few minutes later I saw my father, for one of the last times, as he rushed past my open-door, bags in tow. I could hear my mother crying and then Anna rushing into my parent’s room.

It turned out that the trips my ‘father’ was taking was not for work, but to his second family. He had a second wife and two other children, four and six. Apparently, the six-year-old had broken his arm falling off the jungle gym in a park on the other side of the city, where they lived. I don’t remember the next few months. My mother divorced my father. He moved in with his other family, Anna moved into the dorms. Our house was sold and I was forced to move with my mother to another town a few hours away. We moved into a small middle-class subdivision where the houses were close together and the yards are small.

I hated them all. My father for his other family, my sister for leaving me, and my mother for forcing me to move away from my friends and having to start at a new high school in the middle of my freshman year. No one likes to be the new kid, especially if the school year has already started. I became the loner, bookworm. Bullies tried to pick on me, but all my resentment, and rage for my family came out against those bullies when provoked. They quickly learned to leave me alone. After the second trip to the principal’s office, my mother tried to get me help. All that did was drive a bigger wedge between us.

I quickly learned I was on my own. I also learned how and what to say to teachers, school, counselors, and my mother to get them off my back and to leave me alone. This had an odd effect on my life. I would do the bare minimum of interaction at school and home, chores and home and schoolwork. I had always been a reader. So even though I did as little as possible I made straight A’s. I’d do the chores expected of me, mowing the grass, cleaning my room, and the like but never made any extra effort. I never got into sports in school, or any clubs, or any extracurricular activities of any kind.


My mother was more of a roommate, than a mother, and an unwanted but necessary one at that. My first real argument with her came between my sophomore and junior years. I had expected a car for my 16th birthday, like my sister güvenilir bahis had gotten. My mom made a nice dinner and gave me a store-bought cake. After the cake was eaten, she handed me a few birthday cards. The first was from my father, I hadn’t seen him since he left that day we found out about his other family and any attempts he made to contact me went unanswered. I opened the envelope pulled out the card and opened it to see a long-handwritten note and a $50 visa gift card. I took the gift card and ripped up the rest without even trying to read it.

Mom tried to say something about it but, I gave her an icy stare that stopped her cold. The next card was from my aunt Jen, my mom’s younger sister. I had not seen her since I was six or seven when she married my uncle Bob and moved away. It was a funny card with Garfield and Odie and a simple note of Happy Birthday hand written inside and a 20-dollar bill. I put the bill with the gift card and laid the card in front of my mother so she could read it.

The next card was from Anna. It was a basic card balloons decorated the front inside was printed Happy Birthday on one side. The other was a short note, stating she missed and loved me and was sorry she hasn’t been here, that college and work kept her busy. She had never even been to our new home since the divorce, choosing to stay in our old hometown with friends where she has had a job since she was 16, that she worked part-time during the school year and full-time during breaks. Due to our age gap, we were never close, and when she would call the house, I talked with her just enough to keep my mom off my back. Never really listening. I tossed the card across the table in obvious disgust.

The final card was from my mother. The envelope was a little fatter than the others. I brightened up thinking it contained information on the car I expected. Now I know we were never rich and since the divorce I understood things were different than they use to be. But I was a sixteen-year-old kid that saw this car as my first step to freedom from the family that abandoned me, dismissed me, and tried to rule me. So, you can imagine my surprise when I pulled out a birthday card with a Mother and a baby on the cover and sweet 16 at the top. I opened it to have six, five-dollar bills fall out of it onto the table. I stared at it for what seemed like 20 minutes, but was probably 30 seconds.

“What the FUCK is this!” I howled.

“Michael!!” my mom shouted.

I ignored her picking up my presents. My 16th birthday, my entrance into adulthood, my start to the road of freedom totaled $100. Fury started to billed within me. I had a quick flash of Anna’s sweet 16. Mom had gone all out for her. Cloths, nails, hair, party with her girlfriends. My dad was actually home for the dinner and had given her a not so inexpensive necklace and earring set, and of course they got her a good reliable used car, that she still drives as far as I know.

I stood cramming the bills and gift card in my pocket. “Fucking figures! Anna gets treated like a princess and gets a car to escape this pitiful excuse of a family. I get food that a homeless person would be hard pressed to stomach and a cake that was probably on sale so they could sell it before it started to mold and a lousy hundred bucks. I’m a fucking straight A student I do what’s asked of me, I don’t get into trouble anymore, I even go to your stupid counseling to keep your nagging ass of my back and I get a hundred bucks for all my effort!!”

Mom just sat there wide eyed as my rant continued. “It’s no wonder dad got another family, if you treat him like you do me! Well, if you think short changing me is going to keep me around you can think again!”

I ran out of the house slamming the front door, I heard the start of my mother’s wailing just before the slam of the door. I started off running out of our subdivision and headed towards town. I had no destination in mind, the whole time I ran I thought about how screwed up my life was. How unfair it was. How I couldn’t wait to get away from all of them, to forget, dismiss, and leave them behind like they had done to me. I tried to think of what I did to deserve all this. I was a good kid growing up. I never caused trouble, didn’t break things or get in the way. Why did my dad not love me, what did I do to make him find another wife and different kids? Why did my mom not love me? Just because I was a boy, she couldn’t love me and take me places! I heard other boys had mommy-son days, so there must have been things we could have done. I had friends that had older siblings, and other than teasing they weren’t so bad. Some even like each other and hung out at times. Anna was only ever around me when we were young and would watch tv at home together. I didn’t even know what she was studying in college.


I had been running, lost in thought for about half an hour when I was almost hit by a car when I ran out in front of it. Horn blared as I leaped out of the türkçe bahis road, across the sidewalk, landing in the grass before a parking lot. A man in his late 40’s jumped out of the car and rushed to check on me. “Are you okay, son? You really should pay more attention, when crossing the street.” He said in a gentle yet authoritative voice.

I didn’t realize I had tears streaming down my face. “Doesn’t matter, no one would care anyway.” I stated.

“I’d care, I just paid this car off. Not to mention the insurance hike, or the mad parents and family I’d have to deal with even if it wasn’t my fault.” He quipped.

I couldn’t help but chuckle ruefully. “No worries about family, they wouldn’t care. Can’t help you with car repairs or insurance but I’m sure you’d be alright.”

“I’m sure you have family, your clothes are clean, you look healthy enough and other than some sweat you seem to have good hygiene, so you’re not homeless. I see no obvious signs of abuse, although not all abuse leaves obvious signs, but from what you said I believe I’m right, so someone cares for you, even if you don’t think so.” He offered.

“Only because she has to by law, I assure you.” I said looking at him for the first time.

Mid to late 40’s light brown hair greying at the temples, grey-blue eyes, and reasonably fit. He stood up at what I would guess about 5’10” and offered me a hand. I grabbed his and stood at my 6’2″ height. He told me to wait there a moment, then preceded to return to his car and drive into the parking lot next to us. It was at this time I saw we was at a nondenominational church. After exiting his car, he locked it and started fumbling with his keys as he motioned for me to follow him as he made his way towards a side entrance to the church.

“I’m Pastor Stevens, but you can call me Jack. I had just finished some work on my sermon for Sunday and was heading to the store when we ran into each other… almost.” He chuckled.

We entered the side door and then into what I assume was his office. He had a small dorm fridge in there. He opened it grabbed two bottles of water offering me one and pointing me to a small couch under a window as he sat in a wing-backed chair on the other side of a small glass coffee table.

“What’s your name son? And what has you running into to traffic, this day?” He asked.

I don’t know what it was about him, I have not opened up to anyone in years. Everyone that had tried ran into the walls I had built up around me. For some reason He went through them like they weren’t there, as easy as a ghost would through a true physical structure. I poured my heart out, all my grief, sorrow, insecurities, doubt, everything. We talked for at least an hour. Some of it I didn’t like to hear, didn’t want to hear, but needed to hear. We came to a resolution. I would do some work around the church for him, landscaping, light maintenance, and he would pay me and help me with my anger issues and be a sounding board to help me work through any future problems I wanted help with. He offered to drive me home and help me talk to my mother, which I accepted. He parked his car in front of my house and told me to stay put while he talked to my mom. He walked up the steps of the porch and rang the doorbell. My mother answered the door looking disheveled. I saw them shake hands then sit on the two Adirondack chairs we have on the porch. They talked for about 15 minutes, hands moving and the occasional sob and shudder from my mom. Finally, they both stood and hugged and Jack looked at me signaling me to exit his car.

The next couple of hours the three of us talked and mom and I bared our souls to each other with Jack’s guidance. We cleared away some misconceptions of the past, present and the future. We developed a new line of communication. But most importantly we both apologized, and said we loved each other. Jack left late that night after I promised to be there bright and early the next day to start work and Mom promised we’d both be there Sunday for church.


The next two years flew by, I still didn’t socialize in school but still made straight A’s. Jack taught me landscaping, not just mowing grass and using a weed-eater, but how to trim hedges, the difference between perennials, and annuals, how to trim rose bushes, watering and irrigation. He taught me how to patch drywall and the proper way to mud and sand it. How to paint, not just with a roller but to cut in and mask of edges. How to replace all manner of lightbulbs, incandescence, florescence, and halogens. To replace electrical sockets and light switches. Clean clogged pipes and many other things. All the while talking about life, philosophy, theology, history, and how each interconnected with the other. He was a true renaissance man. My family was never religious, but mom and I started going to Jack’s church for every Sunday service. His messages were never fire and brimstone, but of love and acceptance, togetherness of family and community, spirituality güvenilir bahis siteleri and rationality, philosophy and common sense, the difference between God’s Law and man’s law. How they all do and should chance through the passage of time as the world’s population grows and changes. How even though they change, they still basically stay the same at their roots. The only time I ever heard him speak negatively was when he talked about how the politics and corruption and bias of those in power has twisted the holy words of God, no matter the religion, into hate, fear and war over the centuries.

Mom and I would wind up spending most of Sunday afternoon and evening discussing whatever topic Jack brought up that day. We developed similar personal life philosophies and moral guidelines that were pretty much perfectly aligned. We became as close as any mom and son could, the past long forgotten and forgiven. I still wanted nothing to do with my father, and barely talked to Anna, but I no longer resented her, and actually looked forward to seeing her at her graduation. She would be taking finals so would miss mine but she had made mom promise to video it and gushed about how proud she was of me for caring a perfect 4.0 all through high school and would-be 4th in a class of 372 graduating students. I have offers for academic scholarships but not sure what or where my future lies. After discussing it with my mom, Jack, and the school counselor, it was decided that I would defer for a year and I had a list of 5 schools that would promise to try and make available at least a partial scholarship for me the following year. When the Deans of admissions for these schools found out about my history, they thought that taking some time to make sure I knew what field of study I wanted to pursue made sense.


Graduation day, I’ll be 19 in two months. After the ceremony Mom and Jack will be taking me out for dinner. Jack had become like a real dad to me these last two years. I asked both mom and him why they didn’t date, and both just said they liked each other but there was no attraction between them. I left the house in dress slacks, a crisp button-down dress shirt, clean shaven, hair freshly cut and styled. Cap, gown, and cords ready to wear when the time came. Mom and Jack would come later when it was time for the march across the stage. Students were required to arrive an hour earlier for final instruction and what not. I stood around looking at the different groups of graduates standing around, maybe a dozen of us ‘loners’ speckled the area we waited in for the beginning of the end of our time here. For the first time as I looked around, I started to think about everything I missed out on in my high school career. All the extracurricular activities I didn’t watch or participate in, like sports, or clubs, band, or even student council. Then Homecomings, proms, and other dances. I never went to a party at school, for school, or of a student whose parents weren’t home, or even a birthday party. I never had a girlfriend, never been on a date, never even kissed a girl that wasn’t my mom and that was only pecks on the cheek.

We were walked through how the ceremony was going to go, how we were expected to act, then told it was time to get the caps, gowns and cords on, then to line up to be ready for the march out to the ceremony area. We were aligned in Alphabetical order, with the exception of the students in the top 10% of the class, or those with special awards being received along with their diplomas. I was in this group, for being ranked 4th in the class, and having perfect attendance for all of high school. I have two cords a gold one to signify my 4.0 GPA, and a blue cord to signify my perfect attendance. The ceremony took about two hours. There was speech after speech, District Superintendent, Principal, local celebrities, alumni, our classes salutatorian and Valedictorian. Classmates were told to rise when special awards or scholarships were announced. Finally, it was time to march across the stage. Fourth in line I stand and make my way to the stairs leading up to the stage, and I start to look for mom, and Jack. I spot them as I climb the stairs, Jack was dressed in a casual suit, mom in a red dress with a video camera in hand pointed at me. Half an hour later, two hours after the start, we throw our caps in the air and my high school career comes to an end as it hits the ground.

Ten minutes later I weave my way through the throng of students and their guests to reach my family. I see my mother close up for the first time this day and I’m amazed at what I see. Gwen Masters, formally Johnston, 42yrs. old, 5’7″, 135lbs., red wrap dress, red 3″ heels, deep cleavage visible, strawberry blonde shoulder length hair, crystal blue eyes, elfin facial features. It was the first time I looked at her as more than just my mother. She was truly a gorgeous woman. In her heels, she was even in height with Jack. She was trim yet curvy, womanly. I shook Jack’s hand and turned to my mother. She drew me into a long deep hug, her breasts crushed into my chest, and our pelvises ground together. “I’m so proud of you, baby.” She whispered into my ear, before kissing me long and hard on the cheek.

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