A string of pearls and a smile. Those were the only things that I ever wore when Dad came in to the city to visit me – it saved time. Time that is better spent running his hands and lips, his talented tongue, over my naked skin.
I lived on the second floor of a three story condominium complex. Actually the garage was above ground, so you had to push three on the elevator to get to my apartment. It was a two bedroom unit, specifically purchased so that Mom and Dad could stay over when they came in to the Twin Cities for a show or something like that. The unit had separate balconies off of my bedroom and off of the combination living room slash den. The unit faced the woods and I could stand naked on either 'terrace' without any real danger of being seen, so long as I didn't lean over the railing. Dad and I sometimes did start our little get-togethers there, but only in the dark.
I'm Katarina (Kat, Kate, Katie, Rina, whatever) and I was twenty-six at the end of this story – which by the way is only hours after the beginning of this little recitation. The top of my head is five foot six above the ground. The scale says one hundred ten when I step on it. My bra reads 34B but Dad rarely sees me in one. Maybe sometimes when we dress to go out for dinner but a lot of times I don't bother with one even then. My hair is pure blonde – my head, not my pussy, which is bald, though it used to be blonde - like many famous women from Scandinavia, and one might honestly refer to me as a classic Nordic beauty. And no, I definitely do not have to say so myself.
My grandparents were all friends and immigrated together to the cold winters of Minnesota. It was natural that their children, Dad and Mom, should grow up together, surrendering their innocence and then their virginity to one another, and eventually marrying and producing the bouncing baby girl variously described in this story as 'I' or 'me'.
Dad is one seriously handsome devil. Close to six feet tall and well built, he is a retired police detective. He did the 'twenty and out' routine and is now security chief for a major real estate operator. Those twenty years, though, probably contributed to Mom's fucking around, her gambling and worse, what with Dad's dangerous job, the irregular hours, the cop bars and the whores who didn't mind giving it away in return for not being arrested. I didn't know whether or not Dad really took advantage of that abundance of cunt but Mom thought so, and I heard her accuse him more than once.
I was on the terrace outside of my bedroom, the summer evening, a Friday, being warm enough for nudity. I heard Dad's key in the door but didn't turn around. He had driven for an hour from the home I grew up in, the home he still kept for his five day job. The air blew softly against my body as he opened the door, creating a temporary draft. In a few long strides he was behind me.
His hands rested against my upper arms as his lips kissed the back of my neck, making me moan with pleasure and with lust. My full weight fell against his body, my back against his chest, my butt whorishly rubbing like a lap dancer against his crotch. I reached behind me, placing my hand on his hardness. His hands slid around me to feather my nipples, already at attention from the instant that his key entered the lock.
My toes down like a ballerina, I spun to face him and our lips joined hungrily. Eyes closed, tongues dueling, the weekend had begun...
TEN YEARS AGO I was sixteen. Dad was working a four-to-twelve and probably wouldn't be home until three in the morning. I was naked, preparing for bed. Walking down the hall to the bathroom, I passed Mom's open door and saw her examining herself, also naked, in a full length mirror. She obviously liked what she saw, and knowing the horniness of teen-aged boys and the men they would grow up to be, I knew that she was pleasing to the male eye. No big deal; we saw each other that way all the time.
"Come on in, Rina," she said. It was pure polite request, nothing like a command. Yet I hesitated, fearing where the conversation would go. When I entered her room, her eyes went to my snatch. I had the feeling that this we not merely maternal examination. My carpeting clearly matched my drapes, and my pussy dampened under her gaze.
"I think it's time for you to shave down there, young lady." She spread her legs to show off her bald pubes. I'd seen them often, and we'd had this same conversation on a number of occasions. This conversation however had a different ending.
"Does Dad like it that way?" I asked.
"He hates it," she snapped, continuing, "But I don't give a damn. Now let's go."
My hesitation, my objections were ignored. She led me into her bathroom. Two separate sinks with vanities, catty corner, a commode with a linen closet inside, a glass enclosed shower and a large Jacuzzi tub. She sat me down on her vanity top and pushed my legs open. Electric razor, soap and water, safety razor, shave cream, Dad's after shave lotion. It took a while but finally my pussy was as clean as Mom's. As she rubbed in the lotion, I reflexively tried to close my legs. Mom wasn't stupid. Most Moms are not stupid. As I tried to close my legs, she quickly slid two fingers inside me. It was as she had suspected; my hymen was gone. My face turned deep purple.
"Who?" Her tone made it clear that she wouldn't accept any reply that relied on hair brushes or horseback riding, especially since the only 'horse' I'd ever ridden had been a human being hung like a stallion.
"You don't know him. A boy from school," I added.
This was technically true. From my perspective now, at age twenty-six, he was a boy, a mere twenty-one. But back then I was only sixteen, and he was a brand new teacher, with a newly minted bachelor's degree. I wasn't much of a math student, but at that age, an apple for the teacher, or more accurately a cherry, was a hell of a lot easier to deliver than pages and pages of homework. And more enjoyable too.
"Did he use a condom?" Mom asked. Again I decided that it would be better to tell the truth. It would soon come out anyway.
"Every time," I said.
"Every time?" she repeated slowly, her face exhibiting the surprise that her voice kept hidden. But the evasion about his identity evidently aroused her suspicion.
"Was it Daddy?"
Then it was my turn to be surprised, and I showed it. I shook my head, rapidly, repeatedly, determinedly.
"I had to ask," she said. "You used to be quite the little cock tease, if you recall."
That was true. I had loved to bounce on the laps of Dad and of other grown up uncles or cousins. Then Mom had said something about it, actually using that expression, and I had heeded her advice. I explained.
"Back when I was thirteen, just before our little talk, I was bouncing on Dad's lap while you were out one night. I felt his cock get hard and tried my best to make him cum. But he picked me up and sat me next to him, then told me that I was getting too old to bounce on laps. After that, he never let me sit on his lap again."
"I know," she said. "He told me about it. But I still had to ask."
"Any anal?" she continued.
"Did he fuck you in the ass?" Mom explained.
"I knew what you meant. I was just surprised at the question. No, there was no anal."
"Good," she said. "It hurts like a son of a bitch."
"Why don't you tell Daddy that you don't want him to do that?" I thought it was a fair enough question.
Mom looked at me kind of sideways. She opened her mouth and then closed it. Finally she opened it again.
"I wasn't talking about Daddy," she whispered.
Holy shit! Had Mom just confessed to me that she was fucking someone besides Dad? And after all the times I heard her accusing him of banging every hooker that he arrested? My head was spinning. It was true that Mr. Simpson had twice tried to get me to take it up the ass but I had refused. After all, I simply wanted to pass the course; I had no interest in graduating summa cum laude. Did you notice that I called him Mr. Simpson? That was his idea. I once called him Gary but he insisted that I use the formal name so that I wouldn't slip up in the classroom. I like an idiot went along with him. Shit, if he wanted to take the risk of fucking a student, he would have deserved it if he got caught. But then of course I would have flunked my math course.
With my eyes still wide open from Mom's last comment, she asked me another one. "Have you ever made it with another girl?"
I just shook my head in the negative. Mom seemed to be satisfied with the conversation, I guess, but the subject matter must have gotten her hot. Just as it had gotten me. She looked down and saw the juices oozing from my clean shaven pussy.
Suddenly her two fingers were back inside me. Her thumb flashed downward to flick my clit. I jumped but didn't try to back away. I've had fingers inside me quite often. My own, of course, when they were the only things handy to bring myself to orgasm. And Gary's fingers, once he had broken my cherry and was trying to do some foreplay.
Speaking about foreplay, Gary really did try. The first time with him, it was just a quickie blowjob in his car after school. But all the other times were in his apartment, where no one could catch us and I had plenty of time to get home before either of my parents. He thoroughly enjoyed eating me before sticking his cock inside me. He put so much effort into making me cum with his tongue that I would never have dimed him out, no matter how much Mom would have busted my chops. In a worst case scenario, I would have named some guy on the football team.
.... There is more of this story ...