Hope Springs Eternal
Nobody in this world is perfect, least of all, me. I have done things in the past I should not have done and done things I regret. If I could go back in time, there are things I would have done differently. I am a non-judgemental person and I wonder how people will judge me as I tell a portion of my life. When I reflect on my past I can see Alexander Pope penning the words to his famous poem, “An Essay on Man” (1734), from where the much common used phrase “hope springs eternal” originates. “Hope springs eternal” can best be interpreted as meaning that people always hope for the best, even in the face of adversary. This is my story.
I can recall celebrating my 16th birthday with a small group of school friends. The time in Australia was mid-summer on 10 January 1980. In 1979 I completed year eleven at the Newborough High School and this year is my HSC year where I hope to complete year twelve and gain entry to the University of Melbourne; to study for a Bachelor of Arts (BAJ) degree in Journalism. My desire was to become a journalist as I have always done very well in English and French at school. Hopefully, this profession would allow me to travel around the world and see new cultures. In essence, journalism would provide me with a long working holiday.
I was born and bred in a Victorian township named Yallourn, an aboriginal name meaning “brown coal”. Yallourn, famous for its power stations and large brown coal mines, was closed down and fully evacuated by 1980; for the purpose of excavating the coal deposits beneath the town. Mum, dad, my brother and I, moved to its sister town Yallourn North in 1977. We lived on a small farmlet and my dad worked in one of the nearby coal mines. I never had many close friends but Mary was my closest friend who had been our next door neighbour in Yallourn for 13 years. Mary was a year older than me and had just completed her year 12 in 1979. We played netball and hockey together and used to hang around together a lot. While Mary had a boyfriend and was sexually active, I had never had a boyfriend before as my parents said I was too young to have one. They were very strict and very religious. The only things I had made love to were my fingers and the handle of my hair brush.
On Friday, the day after my birthday, I spent the day at the swimming pool with Mary as it was a hot summer’s day. Mary told me she and her boyfriend were going to the drive-in theatre in Newborough the following night and asked me if I would like to go with them. I accepted her offer and it was arranged that Michael, her boyfriend, would pick us up from her place around 8:30 p.m. In Australia, it is still quite light at 9:00 p.m. as Victoria has had daylight saving time since 1971. On Saturday afternoon, I asked dad if it was alright to go to Mary’s place and stay over for the night, with no mention of the drive-in theatre. I regularly stayed there overnight, just as Mary often stayed over at our place on the farmlet. Dad dropped me off at Mary’s place just after 7:30 p.m. where we talked for close to an hour before Mike came around in his car to pick us up.
Mike was 19 years old and he also had his younger brother, Rodney, who was 17 years old, with him. Mary hopped in the front bench seat with Mike while I was in the back seat with Rod. On dusk, the cartoons began, followed by the support movie. The guys bought us refreshments during the intermission and we then sat down to watch the feature movie. The movie was a rerun of the acclaimed dual Oscar Award winner of 1971, The Last Picture Show; magnificently directed by Peter Bogdanovich. Mary and Mike spent much of the movie necking and kissing and whatever else that was hidden by the front seat. During the movie, Rod moved closer to me and he put his arm around my shoulder, ever so slowly pulling me closer to him. He had his left arm around my shoulder with his hand dangling in the vicinity of my left breast. I was a little uncomfortable, but I never resisted or pushed him away. Inch by inch, his hand moved closer to my breast, neither of us uttering a word. I was wearing a short tank top covering my bra as well as a short flared skirt and panties. By the end of the movie, Rod had plucked up enough courage to rub my breast through my top and bra. My nipple responded to his advances and I could feel my left nipple hardening.
Mary and Mike often went to the drive-in theatre and on the way home, Mary told me they would make a detour left and drive about a quarter of a mile and park in a clump of trees beside the Yallourn Storage Dam (now named Lake Narracan, I believe). On leaving the drive-in, sure enough, Mike turned left and soon parked his Ford Falcon in between a clump of trees beside the dam. Mary and Mike were soon making out while Rod was now trying to get his hand inside my bra. This was a new experience to me and I didn’t know how to react. I was nervous, even teetering on being terrified; but there was something deep inside me wanting to find out where the adventure was leading. With his right hand, he placed it on my knee; and then slowly worked up towards my inner thigh. I took a couple of deep gasps and went to grab his hand. Rod in turn grabbed my hand and placed it on his pants where I could feel a hard lump through them. Things were hotting up in the front seat and Mary suggested to Mike that they take the travelling rug and the pillows that were in the boot of the car and go by the sandy lakeside. As they were leaving, Mary said to me, “be careful Tracey, we will be back in about half an hour.”
Alone in the back seat of Mike’s car, Rod told me how attractive I was and that he would like to be my boyfriend. He asked me if I had ever had sex before and I replied in the negative. Our conversation went something like this…
“Is it alright if I kiss you Tracey?”
“I have never kissed a guy before Rod,” I stammered.
“Would you like to try? It’s real fun. You have beautiful lips and the most gorgeous eyes I have ever seen. There is nothing wrong with kissing, I am sure you will like it,” he said.
“Okay Rod, you will have to teach me,” I replied.
We kissed for around 10 minutes and my heart was starting to flutter. No guy had ever kissed me before and I was starting to feel more at ease now. With his left arm around my shoulder and our heads turned towards each other in a kiss, his left hand wandered up my skirt until it rested against my panties. Rod was slowly stroking my pussy through the cotton material of my panties. My heart was now thumping, afraid of the unknown; yet full of anticipation and naively not knowing what else to expect. Rod pulled back and unzipped his trousers without me realizing it. The next thing I felt was his hard erect cock in my hand. My curiosity got the better of me and I glimpsed his hard cock as I started to stroke it.
“Tracey, would you like to fuck?” Rod crudely asked.
“I don’t really want to Rod as I might get pregnant. I am not on the pill or anything,” I replied.
“I promise I will pull out before I cum Tracey, that way you can’t get pregnant,” Rod uttered.
“Are you sure, Rod?”
“Sure I’m sure Tracey. You will love it and you won’t be a virgin any more,” he replied.
After feeling his hard, hot cock and being aroused when he rubbed my pussy through my panties, I consented to have sex with him. Rod got out of the back seat and asked me to take my top off. Rod took his pants and underpants off, revealing a still very hard cock about 6 inches long. His cock was thick, had a slight curve in it, and it had a smooth head that resembled a German soldier’s helmet. Rod leant through the open door and gave me a kiss. Once again he told me how attractive I was and that I make his cock harder than anyone else before. Rod then took hold of the elastic on my panties, pulled them down to my ankles and then removed them.
“Tracey, you have such a wonderful looking hairy pussy and your tits are the best I have ever seen.”
After some more kisses, Rod dragged my naked body to the edge of the bench seat. He spread my legs and raised my knees so that they were straddling his shoulders. Rod then entered me with little trouble as I was very moist. His cock felt so much better than the handle of my hair brush. It wasn’t very long before Rod said that he was close to cumming.
“Pull out Rod, pull out! I don’t want to get pregnant,” I shouted anxiously.
As Rod was pulling out he ejaculated, with a stream of cum splattering against my still open pussy lips. The next 3 or 4 streams splattered over my tummy but in decreasing intensity. He leaned over me until the last drops petered out. We were both breathing very heavily for what seemed an eternity. We then cleaned up the mess, got dressed and waited until Mary and Mike returned. Mike drove us back to Mary’s place where I spent the night. In bed, I told Mary that I was no longer a virgin.
During the rest of the summer holidays, the four of us went to the drive-in theatre on the next two Saturday nights. Each time we went parking after the show and had sex. Rod had bought some condoms to make sure we had safe sex. On the following day (Sunday, 26 January), I was due for my period. Like clockwork it happened, so thankfully I did not become pregnant after my first sexual interlude with Rod. Funnily enough, although there was bleeding, it didn’t seem like my normal periods though. It was a little lighter and it just felt different somehow, two days later it had stopped so it must have just been my imagination.
A week later, School started on the first Tuesday in February. I was about to embark on my HSC which is year 12 in the secondary school system in Australia; a prerequisite entry to any of the Victorian universities providing higher qualifications. Older readers would have known the year as the matriculation year and also the VCE year. The subjects I selected for my HSC were English, English Literature, British History, Economics, French, Geography and Art Appreciation. To my chagrin, Rod had dumped me for some other easy lay. I guess I was just one of his conquests and I felt cheated. The upside was that there would be no distractions to my most important year at school.
The first week of school went smoothly with plenty of books to read and lots of homework to do. I could tell this was going to be one long, hard year. That weekend I had felt a little nauseous on waking which I put down to something I ate and due to the very hot weather. The following week at school, I was feeling very unwell at school and excused myself from class and threw up in the toilets. Each day I felt a bit queasy on awakening and I didn’t feel like having any breakfast, but by lunchtime, I was feeling a lot better. I missed my next period late in February and I became a little nervous, even frightened. I didn’t know what was happening but I didn’t want to tell my mum and get her worried over nothing.
In early March my class had a free period at school one morning, so I made an appointment to see a local GP at the nearby medical clinic, a short distance from the school. I told the doctor that I had been feeling nauseous for over a month and I also missed my last period but not the one before. The doctor thought I may very well be pregnant but she insisted on taking a pregnancy test to be sure. Before long, she confirmed that I was indeed pregnant. On asking her for an explanation on my period back in January, she assured me that it was not a period at all. I learned that it is common to have some bleeding due to hormonal changes within my body and she mentioned something about “early pregnancy bleeding”. The doctor asked me if I had mentioned anything to my parents and I said no and I would be too scared to tell them. The doctor strongly advised me to make an appointment with Doctor Parsons who was the resident obstetrician/ gynaecologist . She was adamant that I tell my parents, at least my mother; and have her accompany me on my visit to Doctor Parsons.
Two weeks later I went with my mother to see Doctor Parsons who gave me a thorough examination and confirmed that I was about nine weeks pregnant. After getting home, mum really gave me a lecture and I broke down and cried. It got even worse when dad came home after work and mum told him I was pregnant. He demanded to know who the father was and why I went out with a guy and had sex. It took about a week before things settled down in the house and dad was becoming more civil towards me. Mum and dad are both very religious and ruled out the possibility of having an abortion as it would mean taking a life. They told me I could not keep the baby after it was born and that it would be given up for adoption to a good home. I felt really angry and let down as I had no say in the matter. During that year, I had monthly visits to my gynaecologist up until when my baby was born.
June 1980, was a hectic and rewarding moment in my life. I sat for my half yearly exams and was second top in my class; even with all the distractions that had afflicted me through my pregnancy. My teacher knew about my pregnancy by then, but my classmates never knew at this stage. I was now 5 months pregnant and my nausea and morning sickness had stopped. I also had my first ultrasound examination showing a healthy boy developing. Being mid-winter now, I now wore a knee high tunic to school that covered the development of my baby bump. By August, other students were starting to comment on my changing physical shape; they teased me saying I must be pregnant. Before long, everyone in the school knew I was pregnant. I felt belittled, like a walking freak show. Mum and dad wanted to take me out of school and I could repeat year 12 the following year. I was adamant that I was going to finish this year and go to university next year.
I still remember 9 October very well. In the late evening before going to bed, my waters broke. I told mum and she said she would take me into hospital the following morning to see Doctor Parsons. On arrival at the hospital he admitted me to the maternity ward. A couple of hours later I went into labour which I found to be a quite traumatic experience for the first time, not knowing what to expect or for how long it would last. At 11:30 p.m. on Friday, 10 October 1980, I gave birth to a baby boy. I asked Doctor Parsons if I could hold him, but he said that there was a complication and my baby had to be taken to the operating theatre. I was terrified, what had happened? I was in a panic. Shortly afterwards my parents came in to see me and how I was going. I told them that something was wrong and my baby was taken away. I was beside myself; I was in tears with worry. About 30 minutes later, Doctor Parsons came in; and I can still recall those fateful words. “I am sorry Miss Ames but your baby is dead. The baby had swallowed some meconium inside me just prior to the birth and he choked on it.” I broke down and was inconsolable. I knew I had to give the baby up for adoption, but to have held him first and knowing he was going to a good home would have been some comfort. I was given a sedative to see me through the night. Two days later I was released from hospital and went home.
I missed the first 3 days of school that week to recover from the birth. Our learning classes had finished for the year and we were doing revision for our final exams. The HSC exams were external exams, set by the Government and not the school. All schools in Victoria had their students sit for the same exams. I passed with 6 honours and one pass in my 7 subjects, ensuring a position into the University of Melbourne the following year. Against so much adversity that year, I could still hold my head high with my academic achievements. I also won a scholarship which would go into help paying for some of my ensuing university course fees in Journalism.
The summer holidays were rather sombre in that I was still recovering from a most traumatic 12 months. Getting pregnant, losing the baby which would have been adopted, and sitting for my final exams at high school left me full of memories that would never go away. In mid-January dad helped me look for accommodation while I was studying in Melbourne. By early February, there were three places with a vacancy. I decided on a 3 bedroom house in South Yarra in Affleck Street, just off Punt Road and a stone’s throw from the Alfred Hospital. I could catch a tram into the city and also as far as the University of Melbourne. Two other females were also renting a room each there, neither were students. Money was hard to come by, so I took a part time job as a waitress in the nearby and trendy Chapel Street on weekends. The money was okay and the tips were good. This lasted for over 2 years as I was going very well at University. During my third year, one of the other women left and the vacancy was soon filled by another woman. Beth was a quiet woman who pretty well kept to herself and I didn’t even know what type of work she was in. Beth was always home through the day, left in the evening and came back around 4 am in the morning. Her wash was also a bit of a mystery as she had rather skimpy clothing with negligees, fashionable bras and brief panties. It was none of my business what she did or didn’t do as I was more interested in my studying for my degree.
One weekend I was chatting with Beth and mentioned I had just lost my job as the restaurant that I was working in had burnt down. Beth asked me if I was looking for another waitressing job or anything else. I said I wasn’t fussy and would look for anything including a part-time shop assistant. It was then that Beth revealed the nature of her line of work. She worked as a woman of the night in an establishment called Caesar’s Retreat, in Kings Place; just off Kings Way. Beth asked me if I was interested in part-time work there as there was a steady turnover of working girls at Caesar’s. The place was also affiliated with an escort agency as well that catered to politicians, businessmen and overseas diplomats. Beth said on some occasions that you could earn $2,000 a night. I gasped and said wow! I told Beth that I could only work weekends including Friday nights due to my schooling and studies. Within four weeks I had a part-time job working at and from Caesar’s Retreat. At this stage I will not go into any detail of my work as I will resume my escapades in that business at a much later date in my life.
By October 1984 I had graduated from University with a Bachelor’s Degree in Journalism. A town called Morwell about 90 miles east of Melbourne and ten minutes from Yallourn North where I once lived, had a vacancy there for a cub reporter. That suited me fine as I was close to home, my parents and brother. For the next two years, I did my internship as a cub reporter with the local Latrobe Valley Express. I learned the ropes quickly and covered local daily events including crime, court hearings, sport and public functions. My feet were getting itchy and I wanted to travel overseas as a freelance reporter and work my way around Asia, Europe and America. You are only young once and that is the best time to see the world. In early 1987 I headed overseas for what turned out to be a wonderful 11 year experience. London was my first port-of-call.
The United Kingdom was in full election mode. I covered some stories during the campaign period where Margaret Thatcher was seeking her third term in office. The Labour Party led by Neil Kinnock was massacred due to adverse coverage by the Sun newspaper. Thatcher won in a landslide on 11 June 1987. Also in the headlines that year was the deteriorating marriage between Prince Charles and Lady Diana. Covering this ongoing story helped pay my way in Britain. The following year my main story was the 21 December 1988 Lockerbie bombing over Scotland where a terrorist group planted a bomb on Pan Am Flight 103 bound for New York. The carnage, debris and the aftermath was beyond belief.
In 1989 I travelled east into Germany to report on both the West and East German life style that emanated from World War II. I was there to cover the destruction of the Berlin Wall on 9 November 1989, an event that once again unified Germany after Josef Stalin introduced Communism to East Germany at the end of the war. Other places I went to included Kuwait in 1990/91 when it was invaded by Iraq, New York on 26 February 1993 when Muslim fundamentalists tried to bomb the World Trade Center, the civil war in Rwanda in 1994 and the independence of Hong Kong from the British lease on 1 July 1997.
I spent my last period back where I started in England. After my father died from a massive heart attack in January 1998, I felt that I had to return home to be with mum who was battling breast cancer. I lived with mum for 7 months until she sadly passed away. Yallourn North in the Latrobe Valley was like a ghost town and I could find no reason to live there any longer. My brother had left the area years before and moved interstate. In September 1998, I packed my bags and headed back to Melbourne. Those 11 years travelling as a freelance journalist were the best years of my life.
My goal in life now was to make money quick, buy myself a house or condominium and set myself up for life. Despite my impressive curriculum vitae, there were no vacancies for journalists anywhere in Melbourne. Looking for any job, I saw an advertisement for experienced women wanted in Melbourne’s finest and most exclusive brothel, the Daily Planet in Elsternwick, a southern suburb of Melbourne. I phoned the Daily Planet and was granted an interview. At 34 years of age, I was mature and believed that I was still attractive to men. The interview went very well, stating my previous stint in such work at Caesar’s Retreat, many years ago. I won the job and was asked to start on Friday 23 October 1998. The Daily Planet was a large building with a large reception lounge and 18 working rooms with spas and expensive décor. The going price for clients then was $180 for 30 minutes, where the establishment got half and the sex worker got the other half. Hourly bookings were $320, also with a 50-50 split.
During a booking, many things can be done and performed; these include: kissing, straight sex, anal sex, sensual massage, hand job, blow job, tit fucking, role playing (such as a schoolgirl, French maid, air hostess), spa bath, perform a lesbian act with another girl and being eaten out. Some clients ask for bondage but that is the only thing that I refuse to do. I found that if I had a regular client and that if he won my trust, that I would set up an interlude with my client in a motel room and charge $200 an hour. An all night stay would cost $1,000. Through contacts and references, some businessmen desire an escort for 24 hours to wine and dine, socialize with, and fuck later on. A 24 hour period costs $5,000.
The cross section of people that frequent such places of pleasure range from 18 year old youths, to 80 year old guys who can’t get it up or even blow. Some old guys are just plain lonely and are happy to have an intelligent conversation with someone while eyeing off the software and reminiscing of days gone by. For people who don’t understand the profession, there are basically three types of women who work in such places. There are drug addicts who need the money to support a habit, a single parent who needs the money to support her child; and the woman who wants to earn money fast to buy a new car, go overseas on a holiday or even purchase a house of their own. I fall into the latter category where I wanted to buy a good house and set myself up financially for life. Surprising to some people, sex workers often have a boyfriend or even girlfriend so as to lead an almost normal life. I could always go back to journalism later in life after I have acquired whatever material things I want. My preferred working hours were from 6:00 p.m. to 4:00 a.m. closing time.
It was one day early in November 1998 when 4 young guys walked into the Daily Planet, I am not sure of the exact date. All of the available girls were called into the reception lounge to parade before the guys. Three of the other ladies were selected and what appeared to be the youngest of the four chose me. After paying their money to the receptionist, I introduced myself as Serenity (my working name) to Tony, took his hand and led him to our suite. I first asked him to take a shower and then I met him at the bed. We chatted for a couple of minutes to get to know each other a little and he told me that he had been out for the evening with three other workmates and were on their way home. His mates had been here before I started working here but this was Tony’s first time. Tony was very shy and almost embarrassed by being naked in front of a woman. I told Tony that if he liked, he could touch me anywhere he liked, kiss me and have any kind of sex act that he wanted to try. Sensing he was still a virgin, I felt he might suffer from premature ejaculation should we attempt straight sex a little later; which could cause psychological repercussions later in life. I played the next 25 minutes by ear.
I had Tony lie down on his stomach on the bed. I poured a little fragrant attar over his back and gently started to massage his neck, shoulders and down his back; working the oil into his body. I told him what a great athletic body he had and that his body was turning me on as I gently nibbled on his ears. I then worked further down to his buttocks and then spread his thighs a little, revealing his scrotum. On massaging his inner thighs, I purposely rubbed against his scrotum causing a bit of a sigh. He wiggled a little, no doubt due to a rapidly erecting cock beneath. I finished his thighs, calves and feet before putting a little more oil on his back. I then climbed on top of Tony and body surfed his back. As I raised my body a little, I body surfed his back with my hardened nipples; nibbling gently on his ears again before tonguing his ear and kissing him on the cheek.
On turning him over, I was greeted with a circumcised hard on; probably just on six inches, yet still impressive. I poured some more attar on his stomach and massaged his front before embarking on another body surf. Each time I slid forward, I raised my chest and let my hard nipples fall across his face and mouth. I could have easily slipped his rampant cock inside me to finish him off but I chose not to on this occasion. Time was rapidly running out, so I eased back and started a blow job on Tony. Literally within seconds, I could feel his body tense, knowing very well he was about to explode his hot cum from his volcanic shaft. Tony tried to pull away but I lowered my mouth on him tighter and increased the suction. Within seconds, he blew copious amounts of cum into my mouth, before swallowing the lot. I smiled at Tony and kissed him gently. We showered together and we both got dressed. He was in another world and then told me I had the most beautiful eyes and smile he had ever seen. I led Tony to the exit where his mates were waiting for him, gave him a peck on the cheek and bade him farewell. I would have liked to be a fly on the wall in his car telling his mates about his experience.
Around a month later, after I had started my shift; Joanne the receptionist told me that some guy name Tony phoned up while I was with a client and asked if I was working tonight. It seems that I had made a good impression on him previously, assuming it was the same Tony. After finishing an hour session with another client, I freshened up and came into the reception lounge. I recognized Tony straight away and went over to greet him. He had been waiting for some 50 minutes. He could have had any other woman working here, yet he specifically wanted me. I led him into the suite and gave him a passionate kiss before he went to take a shower. Tony didn’t seem as nervous as the first time he was here and he was alone, without his mates.
Once again I helped him relax with another sensual massage which had him very hard by the time he turned over. To finish him off this time, I sat astride him cowgirl style, leaning over and kissing him gently. I invariably use condoms with clients as a precaution so as not to catch anything undesirable. Knowing that Tony was a virgin and would be clean, I felt for his cock behind my back. He was still hard so I eased down on his rampant cock slowly. His cock slid in my pussy easily and I started quickening the tempo. Once again it wasn’t long before he exploded inside my hairy pussy. I left his cock inside me as I continued to kiss him. Before long, his cock had softened and detached itself from my pussy, leaving a dripping cream pie pooling on his lower abdomen. I asked him if it was the first time that he had had vaginal sex and he said yes. Then I told him how strong he was and how well it felt having him inside me. We sat on the bed and chatted for a few minutes before showering together and leaving for reception. I accompanied him out and kissed him goodbye. He thanked me for a wonderful time and that he would be back again soon. I learnt from when I was at university that the more you please a guy, the more often they come back.
Over the next 3 months, Tony had three more visits to see me and only me. It was now March 1999. After his last visit, I suggested to him that instead of coming here at night, that he book into a motel on a weekend through the day and meet me there. That way he could spend twice as long, fuck me at least twice and it would be much cheaper for him as the room would be much cheaper than paying the agency. He seemed happy with that arrangement, so I gave him my private phone number which I had already done to numerous other regular clients.
Five months had passed since I began work at the Daily Planet and I was able to bank most of my earnings. In such a short time I had made a staggering $210,000. This included the work at the Daily Planet, many generous tips, as well as private escorting liaisons. I then went to see my bank manager regarding a loan for a house that I fancied in Toorak, a very elite suburb in inner Melbourne, valued at just under a million dollars. Citing my profession and source of income, I told the manager that I worked as a chaperone in customer service for a private company. The following month, I moved out of my apartment into my new house. Over the next 2 months, I met Tony at the Arden Motel in North Melbourne twice. I don’t know what is was about Tony, but I admit I did have a genuine feeling towards him. In this line of work, women rarely get close or attached to their customers; what happens is strictly business and nothing else.
My two meetings with Tony stretched into 2 hours although I only ever charged for 1 hour. In between having sex, we had long chats during his recovery period(s). I also taught him how to eat out a woman properly, making life more enjoyable for both of us. I asked him about his family life, if he had any brothers or sisters and what were his parents like. I learned that he was an only child as his (foster) mother could not bear children of her own. I was saddened in one way that he was adopted, but pleased that he had found a good home where he was brought up and treated well. I asked Tony if he knew who his real mother was and indeed, if she is still alive? When he was around 12 years old, his foster parents told him that he was adopted at an early age. They believed that he had the right to know at the appropriate time that he had been adopted. His foster parents tried to find out who the mother was but were hit with a brick wall of silence and classified information excuses. He didn’t even know where he was born.
It was now May 1999 and I felt I needed a break for a couple of weeks, a holiday which I hadn’t had for quite a while. I told Tony that I would be away next month for a little while as I had always wanted to visit Tasmania. I was becoming quite attached to Tony and I also wanted to help him find his mother. I had Tony’s telephone number and I phoned him up, asking him to meet me at my new address in my new house. On arriving an hour later, I asked him if he had any holiday leave available and he replied that he had 4 weeks in which he could take any time. My next question was if he wanted and was able to come to Tasmania with me for those 2 weeks. Tony’s jaw dropped and eyes lit up and then he asked me how much it would cost. To his staggering surprise, I replied nothing; the holiday is on me with all expenses paid. Tony moved towards me, held me tight and kissed me with gratitude. Our relationship was now clearly beyond a worker/client relationship, we had mutual feelings for each other. People, especially his foster parents, would question a relationship between a 35 year old woman and an 18 year old youth. Still, it would look worse with a 35 year old guy and an 18 year old girl.
Thankfully Tony accepted my invitation, got leave from work and told his foster parents that he was going for a holiday for 2 weeks with a friend. We flew from Tullamarine airport near Melbourne and arrived in Hobart some 80 minutes later. A rent-a-car was waiting for us at the terminal. Each of the places we stayed at was pre-booked and it was up to us to be there on that day. There is an amazing small village in Tasmania named Doo Town just past Eaglehawk Neck and near the Blowhole and the Devil’s Kitchen. Every cottage in this seaside town has the name Doo in it, with names such as Didgeri-Doo, Doo-Little, Just Doo It, This will Doo, et al. I even got to hold a Tasmanian devil in one of the nature parks there. We toured by day, made love by night and talked about many things. Tony’s love making was progressing very well and he had more control now over his cumming than in his few encounters with me previously. I had taught him many positions and he loved doggie style and cowgirl style the best. I assured him after we returned that I would do my utmost to find out who is real mother is as he needed to know. We got back to Melbourne in the evening of Sunday 25 July 1999.
The following weekend I arranged to meet his foster parents who lived in Sunbury, an outer suburb north of Melbourne. I arrived there around noon as I had work later that evening at the Daily Planet. Tony introduced me to his foster parents which went over reasonably well, even though they glanced at me and then at each other. I told them that I was the person who accompanied Tony to Tasmania, earlier in the month and that he really wanted to find out who his real mother was. They reiterated what Tony had previously told me, that they were blocked at every attempt to locate her, should she still be alive. I stated that I would go to any lengths to help Tony and his foster parents locate her. I had lunch there and left mid-afternoon. I left wondering what sort of grilling that Tony would have got from them after I left.
During the week I approached the Registry of Births, Deaths and Marriages and I got the same reply as Tony and his foster parents. I then sought out a detective to work on the case for me, and if necessary, get a court order to reveal the identity of the mother. Then of course, all going well, we had to locate where she lives. With Tony at work through the day and me at work 5 nights a week, we didn’t get to see each other as much as we would have liked. I liked Tony, he was a good kid and I had visions of one day getting engaged and marrying him after the house was paid off. I could then go back to journalism as a day job so we could be together every evening.
Some 4 weeks later I received news that the mother’s name was available but only through a court order on humanitarian grounds where a child has every right to know who their real mother is. I gave the go ahead for my detective and my lawyer to draft the necessary papers to submit to the court. My orders, if successful, were to have the birth certificate sealed in an envelope and have my lawyer open the envelope in Sunbury at the foster parent’s home. That way, we would all find out at the same time the answer to the almost 19 year old mystery. A hearing was held 2 months later in mid-September where the Registry of Births, Deaths and Marriages was ordered to send the birth certificate of Tony to my lawyer.
On Saturday 2 December 1999, we all met at Tony’s place to learn the identity of his true mother. On opening the envelope containing the birth certificate, the atmosphere was electric; there was nervous tension to be had by everyone present. My lawyer started reading the certificate saying:
Child: Surname Not yet given (Anthony took the name of his foster parents at age 2 months)
Given Names: Anthony (By the gynaecologist at the hospital)
Sex: Male
Date of Birth: 10 October 1980
Place of Birth: Moe
Mother Surname: Ames
Given Names: Tracey
With that, my legs buckled and I passed out. After recovering consciousness my head was still in a spin. It still hadn’t sunk in that I was Tony’s mother. Everyone there was in silence not realizing the gravity of the situation. For the past 13 months I had been fucking my own son with no inkling at all that he was my son. Not long after the revelation, Tony’s foster parents said that he should now go with me as I was his mother. Tony wanted to go with me too to learn more about me and my life as there was a lot of catching up to do. I was indebted to both of his foster parents for the loving care that they had given Tony for 19 years.
That weekend, Tony did move in with me in my new home. Tears were still welling in my eyes with the joy that I knew my baby wasn’t dead. In time I found out that that my parent’s request was that the baby be taken away immediately after birth and I was to be told the baby had died. I felt hurt about being lied to, been cheated, angry. Mum and dad didn’t want any shame brought upon the family name and that they also wanted me to go through university and fulfil my dreams. Had I been able to keep the baby after birth, who knows what the future would have been? Naturally, we could not fulfil our desire to get engaged or even get married; but Tony and I still kept more than close on a few occasions while he lived with me. After a hard day’s work, I was there to give him a relaxing massage and….
Thank you for sharing in my story in which the term “hope springs eternal” came to fruition. Amongst all odds, something really great happened after facing despair and adversary for so many years.
Tracey
Via: https://www.lushstories.com/stories/incest-fantasy/hope-springs-eternal
