It's Okay, Honey

by

Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, NonConsensual, Reluctant, Coercion, Heterosexual, Wimp Husband, Cuckold, Wife Watching, Humiliation, Group Sex, Black Male, Oral Sex, Cream Pie, Double Penetration, Size, .

Desc: Fiction Sex Story: Jenny's rebellious daughter comes home with a biker her mother can't stand. Jenny makes a bargain; to leave with the bike gang in return for them leaving her daughter alone.

Boys who grew up with her would tell you that Jenny Marie Stephens would not be the first girl in the room that you would notice. Growing up, she was not the eye catcher that a number of others were. At a school dance, she would be one of the last girls taken. She was tall for her age, kind of knock-kneed, skinny, flat chested, thick glasses, and a bit stoop shouldered. Her teeth were a little crooked and her nose was a thin, slightly crooked one. To say she was not popular was an understatement.

But she was fast. Her freshmen year she won the cross country regional meet and almost beat the best time in the state. She was from a small town in western Kansas. The best times were usually the 6A schools with the best track programs. She was too timid to accept the top Big 12 scholarships that were offered. She went to a smaller state college where she felt more comfortable.

While in college, she had braces and her teeth were straightened. The long hours of running improved her posture and self confidence. Her breasts never developed spectacularly. She looked more like Blanka Vlasic, from Croatia, whom she met in international competition. Her breasts were medium melon sized. They didn't stretch her thin t-shirts, but they weren't puny either. She didn't wear a bra when she ran, because it restricted her breathing.

Purple Magazine had some pictures a writer had inadvertently taken of her during a meet. They were black and white. She was walking back to her travel bag after finishing the 3200meter race. She was soaked, no bra, and her spikes were slung over her back. Her incredibly long pink nipples were almost transparent and poking through her thin, wet track shirt. She was exhausted and her face was gaunt. She had been caught breathing in, and the nipples were magnificent. Her long reddish brown French braid hung down her back. She had the tight skimpy track outfit that Blanka and so many others wear. Her by now long-legged, well toned body and bronze tan were spectacular.

There is something spectacular about a woman who is not at first glance the classic beauty. It takes a double or triple take to realize you may have missed something. Susan Aniston has that look. You have to have been looking at her for a while before you are infatuated with her, whereas Courtney Cox is the one you notice right away.

Jenny was always a bit of a wallflower, and had never been very popular with the boys. When she got out of college, she married one of her teachers. She didn't have that much contact with men, and married almost the first one that asked. He had been much older and a bit of a geek. They lived out and away from the main part of the college town.

They had a daughter, and through the years, eventually bought a small farm within a short drive from Joe's work. Their daughter, Stephanie, was quite a bit like her mother; a clone, actually. She was tall, slender, athletic and timid; until she became a teenager. Through high school, she became more and more rebellious, coloring her hair, wearing provocative clothes, and dating men that were age inappropriate.

During the summer before she was to go to college, she was scheduled to go to Denmark with her grandmother to fix her summer house in Copenhagen. She was taking some classes in Danish and was going to be gone most of the summer.

That seemed to be where everything turned to shit. She had taken a job as a hostess at a nice local restaurant during her senior year; working weekends for spending and gas money. One day, about twelve motorcycles roared up to their house on Saturday afternoon. Stephanie was wearing her blue denim jacket, short, short denim Levi's and long lumberjack boots. The grey socks were turned up and over the tops of the boots, which stopped just below her knees. Her long reddish brown braid had been flapping in the wind.

"Fuck the trip to Denmark, mom. I'm going to LA with my boyfriend, Conrad. Jenny had been so shocked by the turn of events, that she had almost failed to realize who she had been riding with. He was a gargantuan black man; about 6'-6" tall. He was pretty much bare chested under the sleeveless blue denim vest. He had no fat and his muscles rippled down his abdomen; shimmering from the sweat of a typical Kansas summer day during wheat harvest.

Jenny was crushed at the news. This naive young girl was going to throw away her future, maybe even get pregnant, running around with this much older savage on a motorcycle. How would the rest of these older men treat her?

Jenny fought with her emotions as she struggled to make some sense of everything and struggled to find a way out of all of this as she stumbled around the house. She invited them all in for supper. Actually, they had several cedar picnic tables in the back which was shaded by several large oak trees. She rushed around and fished several bags of bratwurst from the freezer in the basement and put them in the microwave to thaw out.

Her husband took her into town for some last minute shopping. The trip to Denmark had already been scheduled. The tickets had been purchased months ago. Jenny still clung to the hope that she could still get her daughter to go. She was supposed to go to her grandmother's for the weekend, but that seemed to be up in the air now.

Jenny struggled frantically for ideas. Finally she came up with the only one she could think of. While the bratwurst was on the grille, she went upstairs to change. It was her only idea, and a desperate one.

When she came downstairs, she was wearing one of her daughter's gray, button front dresses. It hit her at mid thigh. The dark brown high heeled boots hit her just below her knees. The brushed leather boots zipped up the sides. The top was sleeveless and scooped low. It was very uncharacteristic for Jenny to put on any of her daughter's clothes, because they were so diametrically different. The shy middle aged woman could hardly have ever imagined herself like this, but she was desperate as she stood in front of the hall mirror and put on some of her daughter's guard's red bright lipstick.

When Jenny came out into the back yard carrying the Tupperware bowl of potato salad and a fork to turn the bratwurst, she looked like a New York model. She wobbled a little on the high heel shoes. She put the potato salad on the table and turned to Conrad.

"Conrad, I do not want my daughter going across the country with you. I cannot stand the thought of her getting pregnant. You will dump her and we will be taking care of a baby. I do not want her taking drugs. I do not want her to jeopardize her career by missing college. You have had your chance at life. Let her have hers."

Conrad was silent, but he had a smirk on his face he tried not to show. "Why should I listen to you. Your daughter is a fairly nice looking young girl. I will be infatuated with her for quite a while; maybe even a long time. She knows I am not in love with her. She will eventually get over all of this. You can have her back then.

Jenny made her offer. It was the only thing she could think of. "Conrad, if you can talk her into staying, I will go with you. I will do whatever you want to do. I will be your girlfriend until you are tired of me."

Conrad was quiet. He turned to his friends. They all grinned. They might be able to take her, then come back later and still have Stephanie. Nothing was said, of course. Maybe this would end up being a two-for-one thing; eventually.

"I think you're on, Mrs. Stephens. But Stephanie and your husband are coming back soon and you are going to have to do a better job of convincing me." He said as he turned away from the picnic table. He turned and moved his legs out from under the picnic table. His octopus-tentacle long arm reached out and snaked around Jenny's waist and guided her around to stand between his splayed legs.

"You are going to have to do something to convince me I should take you instead of your daughter. After all one in the hand is worth two ... bushes, as they say." Conrad grinned as his the index finger toyed with the loose flap of her hem.

Jenny struggled to keep calm. She had to do it. She was desperate. She looked around at the eager savages that were watching her. "Can't we go somewhere else away from the rest of them?" she mewed.

"Certainly not. It's all for one; and one for all as they say."

Jenny had not counted on this. She struggled for a long time as she stood there with his hand toying with her hem.

Slowly, Jenny reached for the top button. She unbuttoned one. It was the hardest. It was a signal to all that she had surrendered. Her arms got heavier and heavier as she moved down the dress. Her eyes were open, but she was blinded by the tears forming in her eyes as she felt the wind catch the sides of her open dress.

Jenny stood there a while wondering if this was enough. His cold stare told her it wasn't. Jenny arched her back, reached up to her shoulders and slid the garment off of her and pulled it around in front for cover. Conrad reached out; palm up for it. Trying to procrastinate, Jenny began folding it; meticulously; fighting for time.

Jenny handed it to him. He never broke eye contact with her as he laid it on the bench beside him.

Jenny stood there but tried to cross her arms in front of her; one hand over her crotch and one across her breasts. It didn't do much good. Her panties and bra were made of the thin, sheer stretch fabric used for pantyhose. She had not kept up with the latest trends of padded bras with wire supports at the bottom. She did not run around the house dressed for company. It was not her thing to dress up.

.... There is more of this story ...

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