My mother was a bitch.
Not figuratively speaking; I mean a real bitch. She ran with a pack and she was the kind of bitch that ate her young and fought away the other bitches so she could stand in stud to be mounted by the alpha male.
My mother, Delia Bouvier, her friends called her Dee-Dee, had been born Donna Cantrell on the wrong side of the tracks in a small town. Her mother, my grandmother, raised her to believe that she could rise above her humble beginnings; not by education and hard work, although they would be part of the plan; but by using her looks and her charms.
By the time Dee-Dee was twelve it was obvious she was going to be a stunner. She had a beautiful face, a great body, long legs and budding breasts. Her mother, my grandmother, Vanna, spent every hard-earned cent she earned and all of her time and energy grooming her daughter for better things. She kept away the riffraff who were already sniffing around her daughter and educated her in the school of life.
When Donna Cantrell entered junior high she already knew more about makeup, poise, fashion and sex than most women twice her age. Her mother used her own considerable charms to ensure Dee-Dee entered the better of the two schools in the county. Vanna met the principal for dinner one night at an out of town hotel and stayed the night with him. By the time he drove her back home the next day he was smitten with her charms and abilities in bed and, with the promise that he would get more of the same once a month, he enrolled Donna Cantrell in his high school and waived the fees.
The principal's wife was a rotund, church-going, nag who allowed him his husbandly entitlement of carnality once a month if she felt like it. She wore a heavy cotton full-length nightgown to bed, which she grudgingly pulled up her pale fat thighs and allowed her husband to quickly copulate while she lay there dead still, grunting like a pig as he fucked her.
Vanna Cantrell sucked his stubby little cock like an all day sucker, she wore sheer stockings, high-heels, a satin teddy and makeup and encouraged him to fuck her by raking her heels along his flanks, slithering her tongue inside his mouth and screaming obscenities until he came.
The principal was smitten with Vanna Cantrell and her daughter was guaranteed a place in his school and could take whatever classes she wished with the assured knowledge that her grades would be fixed.
Not that Dee-Dee was stupid; she worked as hard at school as her mother did on her back, she knew that she would need some education if their plan was to succeed. As much as Vanna hated her monthly clandestine assignations with the slimy worm of a principal, his requests for deviant sex were getting more absurd, she knew it was all going to be worth it.
Tremont Joyner Bouvier, Trey to his friends, had everything a young man could want. His family was rich and more importantly had a good family name and roots in the county; he was good looking, intelligent and athletic. He was also smitten with Donna Cantrell.
Donna of course had gone to great lengths to snare Trey Bouvier. Her mother had selected him as their target and coached her daughter well in the arts of femininity and enticement but she was a natural anyway. Her skirts were always just a little shorter than the other girls, her makeup just a little heavier; she walked around in a miasma of perfume and she projected suppressed sexuality.
Trey pestered Donna for months but she rejected his advances until one day Trey had asked Donna to a school dance and she accepted. Later that evening in the darkened parking lot of a nearby park Trey had his hand inside of the waistband of Donna's pantyhose and was about to slide his fingers inside the gusset of her pretty pink nylon panties when she stopped him.
"If you respect me Trey; you'll wait until I'm ready," Donna entreated in a voice that would melt butter.
"But Dee-Dee, you know I'm crazy about you," Trey had begged.
Trey was not used to being refused; and certainly not by a girl who was only a few runs up the ladder from white trash. His friends had teased him about taking the girl from the wrong side of town to the dance, but they were all jealous and secretly lusted after Dee-Dee themselves; she was the fuel for most of the boys masturbatory fantasies.
"Trey I understand that boys need a little relief to keep them contented but I will only let a boy who I know will be true touch me down there; Momma told me I gotta keep that special," Donna whispered in the dark; her sweet breath blowing in his ear and driving him crazy.
"Oh Donna; you are special! I promise you that you will be my special girl," Trey whined.
"Promise?" Donna whimpered.
"Yes honey; I promise," Trey replied.
In the darkened car Trey could not see the vicious little smile that crossed Dee-Dee's face. She had set the bait now all she needed to do was to lure him into the trap.
"Well you can't touch me there Trey but I don't want you going home all frustrated and angry; Momma said that a girl should save herself for her marriage bed but she said it was ok to do this if I really liked the boy."
Trey nearly creamed his jeans when Donna put her hand in his crotch and stroked his thick penis through the coarse denim. He quickly unbuckled his pants and pulled them down his thighs and Donna went to work stroking his long thick cock. This was the first time she had masturbated a boy but her mother had taught her well. She gently slid her fingers along his shaft with a feather-light fluttering motion and cruelly scraped her long red fingernail along his frenulum.
Trey came in about thirty seconds, hot ropes of semen shooting from his pulsing cock splashed onto Donna's thighs and she felt the heat of his spend as it soaked into her hose.
Donna began to quietly sob and Trey pulled up his pants and took her in his arms.
"What's wrong honey?" he asked.
"You won't respect me now! I'm nothing but a whore from the wrong side of town," she cried.
"Oh Dee-Dee; that's not so. I love you honey! I love you!"
Donna's eyes glinted evilly in the darkened car as she threw her arms around Tremont Joyner Bouvier and pulled him close so that her ample breasts pressed into his chest. She kissed him and slid her tongue tentatively into his mouth.
"Oh Trey; you are a gentleman and I adore you," she smiled and kissed him again.
When Trey dropped her off her at her house she kissed him passionately and then pushed him away.
"Here Trey; keep these in memory of this night," she panted.
Donna shucked out of her come-soaked pantyhose and dropped them in Trey's lap; slipped back into her heels, opened the car door and ran up the pathway to her house. She spun on her heels and blew Trey a kiss and gave him a beautiful smile.
When she went inside Trey bought the diaphanous garment to his face and inhaled the scent of Donna Cantrell's pussy and became immediately erect. He masturbated three times that night sniffing her pantyhose and blowing his load into the sheer garment each time.
Tremont Joyner Bouvier was hooked!
Their courtship went on for six months and was the talk of the school. It was a fairytale romance: the boy who stood to inherit the largest fortune in the county and the poor but pretty girl from the wrong side of town.
"Did you know your daughter was going out with Trey Bouvier?" the principal asked Vanna Bouvier as he thrust his cock in and out of her ample behind.
He was doing her doggy style in a fleapit hotel room, admiring her taut tush and her long legs clad in sheer black nylon stockings.
"Oh my! Whatever is that girl up too?" Vanna feigned naiveté and wriggled her backside hoping he would hurry up and finish.
"You can put lipstick on a pig but it's still a pig!" Lucien Joyner Bouvier III scowled at his wife; his face was red and he reeked of bourbon.
His son had bought Donna Cantrell home for dinner that evening and although she had looks that could stop a train, the body of a nymphette and had displayed extraordinary decorum and etiquette it was obvious that her manners were learned rather than bred. Although Lucien Joyner Bouvier and his wife were cordial to Donna Cantrell they could see that she was batting way above her league.
"Oh honey; that boy's just looking for some cheap white-trash poontang is all," Jessica Bouvier tried to soothe her belligerent husband.
"Let mommy take care of daddy's little problem," she smooched and kicked off a high-heel and dug her stocking clad foot into his lap and rummaged around until he began to thicken.
"Goddamn it Jess you sure know how to take my mind off what's ailing me," he wheezed and opened his flies and let his wife stroke his shaft with her elegant nylon-clad foot.
He sipped his bourbon and admired his wife's red-painted toenails encased in the reinforced toe of her stocking as she gave him one of her special foot-jobs. He began to grunt as his orgasm approached and he soon forgot all about Donna Cantrell as hot semen erupted from the glans of his penis and splashed his wife's foot and ankle.
"My, my Lucy you sure saved me a load," Jessica Bouvier giggled.
"Now get over her and see to your wife!" she giggled and hiked up the hem of her black Gucci cocktail dress and exposed her hairy snatch framed by her white thighs above the dark welts of her stockings.
"Goddamn Jess!" Lucien Bouvier said just before his mouth closed over his wife's pungent sex.
.... There is more of this story ...