The Audition
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2016 by Meatbot

Incest Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A woman "auditions" her daughter's boyfriend before allowing him to pop the girl's cherry.

Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft   mt/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Incest   Mother   Son   First   Oral Sex   Petting  

I had known for some time that Kirsten was approaching that age. I’d had “the talk” with her several years ago, and she had gotten progressively more boy-crazy until last year, when she finally got a steady boyfriend. It was a surprise to me to find out that she was still a virgin. I’d put her on the pill without Steven’s knowledge or assent, I just couldn’t see letting her screw her life up that way. I just accepted the fact that she was going to start screwing around pretty quick. The kids around here grow up fast, I was sure most of her friends had lost it by then. I just went ahead and took her to the clinic and got her started on the pill. I found out later Steven knew, but by then he was so out of the family I don’t think he cared. And I sure didn’t care what he thought.

Kirsten is a foxy little thing. I can see that, even though I’m her mother. I’m not bad looking, for thirty six, and I’d gotten used to having men stare at me, but from when she was about fourteen on, whenever I was out with her, it wasn’t me the focus was on. I could see it happening, right in front of me, and it pissed me off at first, then amused me, later. And she seemed so unaware of it. Men, even older men, had a fascination with her ... well, I remember being a teen, and I remember noticing that, even then. There’s just something about beautiful young teen girls. I think a lot of their sexual appeal is that they’re so unaware of it.

Kirsten has a boyfriend now, a very nice young man named Brian, whom I like very much. He is a big kid, but he’s sweet and gentle with her, the few times I’ve seen them together. I think he’s generous and kind, and he’s never been anything but respectful to me. Steven, my asshole husband, has never even cared enough to meet the boy. I’m sure that Kirsten will have many more boyfriends, but Brian is her first real one, and I hope she keeps him around long enough to have many special memories of him. I wish I could have been so lucky, at her age ... how much different my life might have turned out. Sigh ... I sh I shouldn’t say that ... I love my children very much, and I don’t regret the circumstances that brought them into being. I just wish their father was more of a father, and more of a man. ay, I’ve always had a good rapport with Kirsten. She’d started out as a Daddy’s girl, but as Steven pulled further and further away from our family, she began to focus on me. She began to actively resent his treatment of me when she was eleven or twelve, and we had many long talks about it. I have no idea if she ever talked to him about it, he never made mention of it. He and I barely speak any more, on those rare occasions when he’s home. She now seems to ignore him, as I do. This is a conscious choice he’s made, to turn his back on his family. When we finally sign the papers it will be a relief.

Kirsten is an open child, and very up-front. She scares some adults, like her grand-parents, and frustrates others, like her teachers. I have learned to accept her for what she is, and love her for it. I know I spoil her and Rodney. It only seems fair, since their own father ignores them. I love them, and feel for them. It’s not easy being a kid, and it’s not easy being one in a family as screwed up as ours has become.

Don’t ask me why I don’t just walk away. I’m close to that point. Part of it is business related, and part of it is because the kids are still kids. When they move out, there will no longer be any reason to pretend, even as little as we pretend now. And, like I said ... business ... we have a good business, and we seem able to manage that still, as our marriage falls apart. I am comfortable that I’ll be able to hose his ass good, when we finally do split. I will feel no guilt, he was the first to break our vows, back when I was a good little girl. I will gladly take half his earthly possessions, with no guilt whatsoever. Maybe it will be worth it to him, to be free of me. I’m not perfect, but I know I’m still attractive and desirable just from the men that come onto me, when I’m out and around. Why his love for me died I’ll never know. The fact that he’s apparently gone through five or six girlfriends makes me believe that it’s him, and that he’ll never find what he’s looking for. I think I was just a seventeen-year stage in his life. I wonder if he’ll be as relieved as me, when it’s finally over. I’m not going to say I hope for the best for him, because I don’t.

Anyway, that’s not the story, Kirsten and Brian are the story. And Rodney has a little part in it, to my embarrassment. I will tell the whole truth, as it happened. May god have mercy on my soul.

One night Kirsten, Rodney and I had just had dinner, and Kirsten was helping me do the dishes. Rodney had disappeared up to his room, as men seem to do when there are chores to be done. We cleaned the table, and began to stock the dishwasher.

“Mom...” said Kirsten.

“Yes, dear,” I replied.

“Mom ... I don’t wanna make you mad...” she seemed strangely reticent to talk, unlike her usual self. I wondered what was up. She continued. “I know we don’t usually talk ‘bout stuff like this ... but I wonder ... Mom ... how old were you ... how old...”

She just seemed to freeze right up, then and there. I laughed to myself. What else could she be wanting to know, to cause this much fuss?

“Darling,” I said, “How old was I when I first lost my virginity? Is that what you’re trying to ask?”

She laughed, and I could tell she was embarrassed. I sighed. I wondered if I should tell her the truth. The girl was almost sixteen. Why not, I thought ... surely she’s no longer a virgin. No girl was, around here. I’d read in the newspaper at work a few months ago that fourteen was the median age in this area, for girls to lose their virginity. It hadn’t surprised me.

“Darling, I was fourteen,” I said. Hell, why not. She deserved the truth. I wondered if she’d been even fourteen. She’d only been thirteen and a half when I put her on the pill. I hated to do it, to me that seemed like I was basically telling her it was okay to start screwing, but I had gone ahead. I wasn’t willing to allow her to mess up the whole rest of her life with a baby, like I’ve said before. Yes, I was fourteen, back when the median age was probably eighteen. I was ahead of my time.

“Gee whiz, mom,” she said, now laughing.

“What?” I said, “I know that’s early ... I’m not proud of it, but it happened. I won’t say I was forced, but a lot of pressure was put on me, by Ben, as you know. At the time, I felt like I was ready ... I admit I allowed it, although I felt some guilt ... I knew how your grandmother would feel if she knew...”

“Mom, I know the story,” she said, “I just didn’t know you were only fourteen.”

Yes, she knew the story. I hadn’t hid that from the kids. My uncle Ben was still in the pen, not from what he did to me, but what he’d done to one of my cousin’s daughters. I freely admit my relationship with him was mostly consensual. He was good at what he did. He made me feel grown-up, and important, and sexy. God, he made me feel sexy ... I still think of him, sometimes, when I’m ... fucking ... he had a powerful grip on my psyche. He carefully molded and shaped me. A lot of what I am today is because of his influence. I’m just glad he’s stayed in prison all these years, and I haven’t had to guard my daughter from him. Sad to say, my mother did not do a very good job in that department, even allowing me to stay with him overnight, never suspecting. Sometimes I feel like she wouldn’t have cared, even if she knew. Well, that is unfair ... she would care, but she would want to sweep it under the rug. She wouldn’t want to make a fuss. Sex, to her, was naughty and should not be talked about, even when someone in your family was a molester.

“Mom...” she went on, “Did you ... did you love him?”

“Yes, dear,” I replied, wanting to tell her the truth, “He was very careful and made sure I loved him. And, he was very lovable. I will not lie about that.”

“Thanks, mom,” she said. We finished with the dishes, and she sat at the table, her face in her hands. I looked at her. She was beautiful, even when she had chocolate cake on her chin. She would break a lot of hearts, in the coming years.

“Darling,” I said, wiping her face with a wet paper towel, “what are you thinking? What brought this up?”

“Mom...” her lip trembled, and I almost thought she was going to burst into tears.

“Oh, darling, what is it?” I said, and sat beside her. I put my arm around her shoulder.

“Mom ... like I said, I don’t want you to be mad...” she said again, snuffling, “But all my friends ... have had their cherries popped ... I’m the last...” Tears did come then, and I almost cried with her. But, I was surprised. She was still a virgin?

“Darling,” I said, hugging her, “That’s nothing to be ashamed of. You should be proud. That’s something very special to still have. Someday you’re going to make some lucky young man very happy. I hope it’s special for you, special and wonderful.”

“I just feel ... left out,” she said, sighing. I laughed.

“Darling, there’s nothing to feel left out about. Sex is fun and part of life, but it’s not a necessity ... I’ve proved that, over the years.” I hoped to get a smile out of her with that, but it went over her head. I continued. “So what if your friends have done it. Your time will come, and hopefully it will be magical and special. I hope it is, I have high hopes for you, darlin’...”

I did. I wanted it to be special for her. I idly wondered if Brian could make it that special. If appearances were any judge, he could.

“So, when do you think I should do it?” she said. She still seemed to have missed my point.

“Kris, dear,” I said, slightly exasperated. “There’s not a right time, per se. Just when you feel ready, and the right guy comes along, a guy who treats you right, and respects you, and whom you love very much ... enough to give something special to. Your virginity is very special, it’s literally a once-in-a-lifetime thing. Please don’t waste it, darling.”

She was silent for a moment. Finally she said, “Do you think Brian is special enough?”

I sighed. This was not exactly going where I’d intended.

“Honey, I don’t know, that’s something you’re going to have to decide. I’m your mother, but I’m not going to decide who ... who pops your cherry.” We both laughed at that. I wondered if it was over.

I wondered about Brian, about the level of his experience. Shit, I’d just ask.

“Honey ... has Brian ... has he had other girls?” I asked, and she shook her head vehemently.

“No! I’ll be his first! If we ... if we ... Mom. We’ve ... we’ve...” she colored nicely. “We’ve played around some, but we haven’t gone ... all the way.”

I nodded.

“Will you be mad at me if I do?” she asked. It wasn’t over. I sighed again.

“No dear, even if I somehow find out, I won’t be. Darling ... I appreciate your openness with me, and sharing this stuff ... but you don’t have to keep me clued in to the status of your ... hymen...”

“Why? Will it upset you?”

“It will upset me that my little girl isn’t little any more. Kirsten ... nothing you do will alienate my affection for you. I won’t care, one way or the other ... except, I do want you to think seriously before you do anything. Like I said, don’t just throw it away. In the old days, girls were still virgins when they married. There is something to be said for that, although, I admit, I wasn’t ... but think about your perception of yourself, and your ... self respect, to use a tired old phrase. Don’t do it just to fit in, or because all the other girls have. Do it because you love someone, and you love yourself. And, like I said, make it something to remember.”

“Doesn’t it hurt?” she asked, and I nodded.

“It can, and usually does, when the hymen is torn. But not every girl has a hymen. Things like gymnastics and stretching can tear it prematurely. It’s not a given.”

“Did it hurt for you?”

“Yes, frankly, it hurt like hell. But just for a little bit. I must have had a tight hymen.”

“Mom ... do I have ... a hynem?”

I laughed. “Hymen, darling. Also called maidenhead. We’ve talked about this before, darlin’ ... remember? I have no idea, I haven’t seen you down there since ... well, in years. I assume you do. You should be able to tell ... if one or two ... fingers won’t go, you probably do...”

She turned red again. I laughed to myself. Talking with my daughter about sticking her fingers in her twat ... what a nice dinner table conversation.

“I’m afraid it will hurt, though,” she said thoughtfully. I understood.

“You’ll deal with it, if it does. It’s just part of life. I have heard of girls having to have surgery to help them along, down there ... do I need to make an appointment with Doctor Needle?”

She laughed and shook her head. “Mom...” she said, and I could tell again it was something she didn’t want to talk about.

“Yes, dear,” I said.

“Mom ... would you ... would you look?”

That shocked the holy hell out of me. I mean, she’s not really shy ... but hell, she’s almost sixteen. And she wanted me to examine her vagina, her pussy?

“Darling,” I said, “I’m very serious. I can make you an appointment, and the doctor can reassure you. He’s seen you down there already, remember? I think if you were impossibly small, he would have at least said something to me, at that time. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

While I said this, I had a thought squirm through my brain ... not really a wicked thought, but a slightly ... improper one. Yeah, I thought to myself, I’d like a look at that. Not because it’s a pussy, but because it’s my daughter. I’d like one last glimpse of her, before she became a woman. I loved her when she was a child, I’d spread her little lips more than once and looked into her simple childish beauty, marveling at what it was and what it would become, someday. That someday was now, and I’d like to see it again. Call me weird. I wanted to see her pussy.

“You don’t have to make an appointment...” she said. “It’s not that big a deal. I just wondered...”

“Darling...” I said, “I think I understand. Here, pull your shorts and panties down, and let me have a quick peek. I think I can tell you, at least, if it’s going to be a big problem.”

She looked embarrassed, but slowly unsnapped her shorts, and slid them and her panties down. She sat back in her chair, and spread her legs. I squatted, placing my hands on her upper legs.

And she was shaved! That surprised me more than anything. She shaved her pussy? At fifteen years old? And she was still a virgin? Did she shave it for herself, then? What else reason would there be? I shaved, and I admit, at this stage, it was mostly for myself ... I didn’t like matted tangled pubic hair, although I’m blonde and it wasn’t that thick ... shaving just seems so much neater or something...

“Baby, I didn’t know you shaved...” I said, not wanting to make a major issue out of it. I was curious what she’d say, though.

“Mom, everyone shaves. I couldn’t go in the locker room, if I didn’t shave,” she said, and I nodded.

“I see,” I said, leaning close, surveying her smooth little pussy. I took my thumbs, and delicately pulled her pussy lips back, exposing her slit. I could see a little hymen, and it looked fairly tight. I didn’t think she’d have any problem, though ... any problem taking a cock, I told myself, feeling a naughty thrill just from thinking that. I’m looking at my daughter’s pussy, I told myself, feeling another naughty thrill. I was almost shocked at myself. Am I a pervert? I wondered. I spread her a little further, and leaned in closer, like I was looking. I drew a silent sniff through my nostrils, and smelled her light scent. Oh, she smelled good ... I felt my own pussy begin to ooze.

Okay, since this whole story is about confessions, here’s one for the books. I have a dear friend, a woman named Jean, whom I have worked with for over ten years. I have, over the years, felt a stronger and stronger attraction to her, and it’s been reciprocated. I know she likes me, and I like her, but we both kind of kept our distance ... until recently. After a business trip several months ago, we had taken a further step in our relationship. One Saturday night she invited me to her house. We made out on her couch, and I spent the night in her bed. It was everything I’d hoped for, and more. She was sweet and gentle with me, and I’m guessing I wasn’t her first. I don’t think I’m a lesbian, but I love her very much, and she has helped me through a difficult time in my life, when I felt all alone. I love her for that. I love her physically, in a way that’s hard to explain. We have a great friendship, and a kind of cerebral logical love because of that friendship, but the physical side of it is incredible. She brought out things deep inside me that I never dreamed I possessed. Making love to her is almost a spiritual experience for me. And the smells and tastes of her body drive me totally fucking insane. ‘Nuff said.

So, smelling my beautiful daughter’s cute little pussy was also almost a holy experience. And a damn sexy one. I thought of Jean, of what I did to her just last weekend, and I felt a longing, a sadness that I couldn’t just bury my face in this sweet little cunt, like I had Jean’s. Like I said, I’m not a lesbian, but I do like pussy, although I’ve only ever sampled one other than my own. Secretly, I love the taste and smell of myself ... maybe I am part lezzie, I don’t know.

I had an overpowering urge to at least kiss her little cunt, but I didn’t. I was down here to check her hymen. I carefully fitted my index finger into her cunt, feeling her tight hymen circle it. Her sexy little clit stood proudly above my questing finger and it was all I could do not to stroke it. I didn’t push inside her with my finger, though I was tempted. It was an emotional experience, and highly sexual for me, and I felt my own cunt oozing juice even more. How I wished that it was my tongue instead of my finger. I shook my head at myself. What was I turning into? Crazy, just plain crazy. I needed to stop, before I did something I regretted.

Finally, I let her little lips flop back together, and scraped the top of my knuckle across her clit, hoping it would seem like an accident. I leaned back and looked up at her. She looked down, almost puzzled.

“Honey,” I said, “I don’t think you’ll...”

“Oh, holy shit!” a loud voice said. We both jumped guiltily. I looked at the door. All I saw was the back of Rodney’s head as he turned and went back in the hall. I’m sure it looked weirder than shit to him, me on my knees, my head down, less than a foot from Kirsten’s bare spread-eagled pussy. Shit, I thought, shit. Why didn’t we go to the bathroom?

“Mom...” Kirsten was actually giggling, instead of freaking out. That was a relief, at least. “Mom, you’re gonna have some ‘splainin’ to do...”

“Well, so be it,” I said, standing. “Kirsten, your pussy looks just fine. I don’t think you’ll have a problem. There will probably be some discomfort, but I think you’ll be brave and manage just fine.

Kirsten stood, and pulled her shorts and panties back up. My peep show was over. A thought occurred to me at that time about Brian. The kid was big, for a tenth grader. The football coach had gone ga-ga over him, he could throw and run, in spite of being big. I wondered just how big he was. And if he was big ... all over. My poor baby might be in some pain, I thought, if his dick is as big as his muscles. Another thought stole into my head, and gave me a little thrill. Maybe, I thought, just maybe a little detective work is in order. I wondered how to make it happen.

That night, after Kirsten had kissed me goodnight and toddled off to bed, I waited thirty minutes or so, changing into my nightgown while I waited. After I was sure she was asleep, I went up the stairs to the loft, where Rodney sleeps. I knew he’d still be awake, he always watched the Tonight Show, and sure enough his little TV was on. He didn’t say a word, he just nodded at me.

Rodney and I have a peculiar relationship. I know he loves me, and I love him dearly. He’s my son, he came into this world through my vagina. He was difficult to carry, and difficult to birth, even though he was my second. We are close, without being clingy. Just like tonight ... I hug and kiss Kirsten every night, and send her off to bed. But I don’t see Rodney until the next morning at breakfast. None of that lovey-dovey shit for him. It’s just the way he is, and I’ve changed my habits to suit him. I suppose I have spoiled him, probably even more than I have Kirsten. I apologize to the world. He probably has a bit of a god complex ... he’s handsome, rangy and slim, and I know, even though he’s just in ninth grade, I know he’s good with the ladies. He’s had a steady string of girlfriends, since he was nine or ten. He’s almost a joke in the family, my parents call him “Casanova” at times. Kirsten calls him “The Love Bug.” I know beyond the shadow of doubt Rodney is not a virgin. I have found condom wrappers in his jeans, when I did his laundry. I’m sure he’s not using them for water balloons.

“Rod, honey,” I said, seating myself on the couch next to him. He slowly turned, and looked at me.

“What you saw...” I said, and he snorted and said, “Good grief!”

“Rodney, I was reassuring your sister. She was worried about ... girl stuff. Thank you for understanding.”

He laughed.

“It’s okay, Mom,” he said, “It just surprised me. I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Good,” I said, thinking.

“Rodney...” I said. He turned back to look at me.

“What do you know about Brian?” I asked him. He looked a little puzzled.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “I mean, I know him, I see him at school, he seems like a pretty nice guy, and he’s never kicked my ass before.”

“Rod, honey,” I said, exasperated. “You really need to get a grip on your language. I do not want Gram and Pop-pop ever hearing you talk like that. Or like what you said in the kitchen.”

He laughed at me, the cheeky little bastard. “Aww, Mom, that’s just the way people talk nowdays. And you know I won’t, I’m careful ‘round them.”

“Thank you,” I said. I wondered how to approach the subject of Brian’s ... manliness.

“Rod. Have you ever seen Brian in the showers?”

“Hell yeah,” he seemed puzzled again. “All the time. I mean, I’m just third string, but we all shower together.”

Sigh. This might be tricky. So I just blabbed it out.

“Is he ... his, uhm, his penis ... is he large?” I said, wincing to myself as the words came out. Rodney just stared at me, his mouth open.

“Mom,” he finally said. “You’re asking me about Brian’s ... dick?”

I giggled, unable to stop myself. Yes, I thought, I am. I sat up and turned, facing him, putting my leg up on the couch.

“Rod ... I just wanna know, if he and Kirsten ever ... become involved ... I just want to be sure he’s not going to hurt her.”

Rodney shook his head. “I cannot effin’ believe this,” he finally said.

“Rod, it’s not that big a deal. I’m just looking out for my little girl,” I said, still giggling. I was pleased that I’d managed to freak him out. He does it to me all the time, I thought, it’s about time I got one in on him.

“Mom ... I hate to disappoint you, but in the showers ... guys are, uhm. Soft.” he said. I giggled yet again.

He went on. “I’m sure for you women it’s exciting to think of a roomful of sweaty ball players, walking around with big hard cocks.” I felt a stab through my cunt, when he said “cock.” I was hot and getting hotter. Hearing my son say words like that was hard on me. He continued. “It’s not all hard dicks and fat pricks, Mom. Any guy would get his ass kicked if he got a hard-on in the showers. I can’t tell you how big Brian is, because I’ve only seen him soft.”

I laughed out loud. This was ridiculous. I could tell Rodney was way over being embarrassed. He seemed to be enjoying himself, now.

He went on. “I guess I could invite him to a circle-jerk...” he said, tapping his lip with his finger, acting like he was thinking. I slugged him in the arm.

It was sexy, though. I felt a naughty kinship with him, sharing secrets and nasty thoughts like we were. I stared at him, and wondered, for the first time ever, just how well Rodney ... was endowed. His dad was nothing to crow about ... Steven was probably a bit below normal, in the cock department ... just another disappointment I had known about beforehand, but settled for. My dad, however ... my dad had a monster. I had seen it, more than once, though he was careful and always proper with me. The tiny trailer house we had lived in when I was a kid made privacy difficult. And I realize it may not have been all that big ... but to a little girl it just looked huge. In my mind he was massive. And I have heard that you inherit cock size from your mother’s side. I hoped for Rodney’s sake he was built like my dad, and not his.

I sighed. This had not gone well. It had been funny, though.

“Rodney,” I finally said, standing. “Just forget I asked. Goodnight.”

I was almost asleep when my phone rang. I picked it up and looked at the caller ID. It was Jean, thank god.


“What, honey?” I said.

“I ... I miss you...”

“Awww ... I miss you too...”

“When can I see you?”

“Whenever, darlin’ ... tell me when and where.”

“Awww, shit. I gotta go to my folk’s tomorrow tonight. Dinner and a movie.”

“Shit. Thursday night?”

“Shit again. Thursday night is book club night.”

“Well ... there’s always Friday night...”

“Friday night is our night anyway. I guess it’ll have to do...”

“I wish you lived closer.”

“I wish you lived closer.”

“Maybe we can steal a few minutes at work tomorrow, in the broom closet.”

“Yeah ... or the ladies room ... Dawn, be in the upstairs restroom at ten sharp ... last stall on the left ... you can sit on my lap so no one can see your feet...”

“Hee hee ... okay ... are you sure there ain’t no cameras in there?”

“I know Staci from security pretty well ... she says there ain’t...”

“Pretty well, huh ... you cheatin’ on me?”

“Heh ... not recently ... we were pretty close, at one time ... of course she’s a lez, she’s a cop ... all lady cops are lezzies...”

“I bet ... I do miss you, darlin’...”

“I know ... I miss you too...”

“What you got planned this weekend? Should I pack a bag?”

“Hell yeah. I ain’t doin’ nothin’ but you, this weekend.”

“Thanks. I’ll come prepared to stay...”

“Kids okay?”

“Yeah ... kinda ... funny shit goin’ on, though...”

“Funny like what?”

“Kirsten is in the middle of a crisis about when she should lose her cherry.”

“Oh god. I don’t miss those years. Thank god mine are grown and out of the house.”

“It’s very sweet, really. I think she’ll do okay. I gave her the green light, basically. No sense in trying to stop the inevitable.”

“Yeah, kids grow up fast, nowdays.”


“What’s her boyfriend’s name? Byron?”

“Brian. I think he’ll do her okay. And ... I know this sounds kinky...”


“I’ve kinda got this idea ... to, uhm ... to audition him.”

“Haw haw haw ... you meant try him out? See if he’s fit to deflower your kid?”

“No, I won’t fuck him ... she says he’s still a virgin too, if you can believe there’s one still left. I want her to be his first, too. I want that to kinda cement them together. I just want to talk to him, to make sure he knows enough to do my baby right. I think he will, I’ve actually got a lot of confidence in him.”

“Yes, mama is looking out for her little baby. Are you gonna check out his package?”

“I knew you’d ask that. I’m thinkin’ about it. She’s got a tight little cunt, and I don’t want him to hurt her, if he’s a monster.”

“She’s got a ... she does? You’ve looked?”

“Yes, crazy as that sounds. Tonight after dinner she asked me to look. She has the sweetest little cunt ever, I just wanted to gobble it up.”

“Oh, god, you pervert ... I bet, though ... she’s a sweetheart. I bet it was cute.”

“Cute as fuck. And it smelled great. It made me wetter than shit.”

“Shit, you lucky bitch.”

“And, get this. My face is in her cunt, checkin’ her out an’ shit, and Rodney walks in. He’s like, oh fuck, turns around and leaves. It was funnier than shit.”

“Hah hah ... you guys are a riot...”

“Yeah, nuttin’ but sex sex sex at the Hardesty household.”

“God, you bitch. You are makin’ me so horny...”

“You were horny when you called. I bet your finger smells like cunt...”

“Shit, baby ... I haven’t started yet...”

“Start, then. Put your finger on it...”

“Fuck. Are you naked?”

“Hell yeah. I’m in bed. Fuck yeah I’m naked.”

“Stick your fuckin’ finger in it. Pretend it’s my tongue.”

“Fuck, baby...”

“Squeeze your clit for me. Smash that fucker...”

“Fuck, baby!”

“I gotta see you! Fuck! I gotta see you!”

“Fuck, Jean, it’s eleven at night...”

“Can you leave the kids?”

“Hell yeah, they’re almost grown, remember?”

“You know that Gas ‘n Go on 276? Can you meet me there? That’s the halfway point. We can make out and you can be back home by one.”

“What, and make out in your car? Like fucking teenagers?”

“Hell yeah. We’ll park behind the building. Nobody will notice. Or care.”

“Fuck, baby. Gimme fifteen. I’ll call you when I’m close.”

“‘Bye, darlin. See you in fifteen.”


It took a week. Kirsten moped around the house, finally brightening up by the weekend. She had a two day seminar in Dellwood, a band thing, Friday and Saturday. She came home at night, but was gone all day. One night that week while she was in the shower, I snuck into her room and picked up her phone. Thank god it wasn’t passworded. I found Brian’s number, put it in my phone, and carefully replaced hers.

I spent Friday night with Jean, like I always do. We just ate each other alive. There is just something about the woman that drives me insane. We fucked all night, slept ‘til almost noon, showered, and I drove home. I knew I had plenty of time. Kirsten wouldn’t be home until past six. I dialed Brian’s number.

“Hello,” he said. I knew he would see my name, on his caller ID.

“Brian. This is Dawn, Kirsten’s mother.” I said.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said. What a perfect gentleman. God, I hoped some of his manners rubbed off on her.

“Brian ... this is not a big deal,” Really it was, but I didn’t want to scare him off, “I need to talk to you ... about Kirsten. Like I said, it’s not an emergency or anything, I just want to explain a few things to you. Can you maybe come over sometimes this afternoon?”

“Uh...” I could tell he was puzzled. “Yes, ma’am ... I can come over now ... is that okay?”

“Yes, please. I’ll be here.”

I hung up, wondering how I was going to do this. I was as interested as anyone in how this would play out. I almost felt like a spectator.

I realize now, in retrospect, that my subconscious had bigger plans than just talking to him about popping her cherry. I dressed in a tight little pair of white shorts, and a sleeveless shirt. Once again, like I often do nowdays, I didn’t put on panties. I had gotten used to not wearing panties recently. I liked the freedom of it, and the innate sexiness of it. It turned me on to no end, at the close of the day, to strip my slacks off and see the gummy white residue of a day’s worth of pussy juice in the crotch of my pants. I have no idea why that is. Call me weird.

I brushed my hair, and checked myself in the mirror. I looked good. I still look good, for a middle-aged bitch ... I have held it well, I thought. It was the weekend, I didn’t even have any makeup on ... but I was pleased with what I saw. I don’t really need makeup ... and I like that fresh-scrubbed look. I kissed myself in the mirror, and went downstairs.

Brian made it over, in record time. I knew he lived close. I let him in, and led him to the living room. He was dressed in shorts, and a nice white shirt. I seated him on the couch, and sat beside him, with a nice reassuring “safe” distance between us.

“Brian...” I started, wishing I’d given this some more thought. “Brian, before we start, I’d like to say to you that I think you’re a very nice young man. Your parents should be proud, and you can tell them I said that. You are gentle and sweet with Kirsten, and respectful of her. I appreciate that. I wish I would have been so lucky at her age. You are still young, and she is also. None of us have any idea what the future holds, and if you’ll still be together, years from now. Whatever happens, I will be happy and proud to have you in my family, if it happens. Don’t worry, I’m not pressuring you to marry her or anything.”

He got progressively more “deer-in-the-headlights” as I blabbed on. I’m sure he thought ultimately I was going to warn him off my daughter. I could tell he was nervous when he walked in the door, and this didn’t seem to be reassuring him any.

“Come on, cheer up,” I said, patting him on the leg. “This is not bad news.”

He smiled weakly. I wondered if he thought I was crazy or something.

“Anyway ... I just wanted to talk to you about ... something Kirsten talked to me about. She’s ... I think she’s feeling a lot of pressure, from her peer group. All the girls she knows ... have lost their ... virginity, by now. I think she feels left out...”

“Mrs. Hardesty!” he interrupted, sitting forward. “I have never! I would never...”

“Brian!” I laughed, “Don’t say never! You might be expected to do it, before this is over!”

I’m not sure if he understood what I meant. He sat there, gulping air through his mouth like a fish. I felt sorry for him.

“Brian, I’m saying you may be expected ... or pressured into having to decide. By her. I’m going to tell you what I told her. Follow your instinct. If you don’t feel like the time is right, don’t do it. She’ll just have to wait, if that’s the case, and if you’re the right one, she will wait for you. If you feel confident enough, and you feel like you can make it special for her, I give my okay to go ahead. I’m not gonna freak out or chop your dick off or anything. I accept this as inevitable, as part of the growing process. I hope for the best for the two of you, and I hope you make it as a couple. Am I getting through?”

He nodded slowly, and seemed to be thinking.

“If you do, I just want you to take it slow, and make it something she can remember with pleasure the rest of her life. Don’t just give her a quickie in the back seat of a car. I’ll let you guys stay here, or rent you a room. I know that’s probably a bit too liberal, but I want my daughter to be happy. I want her to have happy memories of this, when she’s an old lady like me.”

“I ... I understand, I think...” he said at last. “Mrs. Hardesty ... Kirsten and I have talked ... we are gonna be together, forever ... we love each other very much ... I love her ... I love her more than I can say. I want what you want, I want the best for her. Thank you, thank you for understanding ... and you are the coolest, ever. Thank you.”

I laid my hand on his shoulder. “Brian,” I said, “I know you’ll do the right thing. I have confidence in you. Thank you, thank you for being such a nice young man. I feel like my daughter is safe, with you.”

He seemed to relax, then, leaning back. Good, I thought.

Okay, here comes the part that I shouldn’t be proud of, but I am. I am proud, this time, of what I didn’t do, instead of what I did. I had thought, all morning about this. About asking him this, and what he’d do. And then what I might do. If he has a monster, I thought, how will I stop myself? How will I just sit there, and look? I know I’m a cock-crazy bitch. You might not think that, what with the shit about Jean I’ve said, but I am. I like the cock. A lot. Peter, the man I met at the beach, had a nice one. The nicest I’ve ever seen. I still dream about it. It filled me and fulfilled me, and left me wanting more. I still have plans, for Peter and his peter. I’m just biding my time. But this boy ... I wanted to see his cock. Not just for my daughter’s benefit, to see if she could take him ... I wanted to see him, for me. I had a feeling he was a beast. I just had a feeling.

“Brian,” I finally said. “I know this is way out of line. If you say no, I won’t blame you, and we’ll never speak of it again. Most of all, don’t let anything I say or do negatively affect your relationship with Kirsten. That’s what’s most important. And I don’t want you to think I’m encouraging you to sneak around behind her back. I love my daughter, and want what’s best for her. But this is something ... something I want some reassurance on.”

He nodded, puzzlement on his face.

“Brian ... I examined Kirsten, the other night ... just to see if ... if there would be any problems. I don’t think there will be. May I ... just for a moment, may I ... see you?”

He really looked confused then.

“See ... me?” he finally asked.

I took a deep breath, and took the plunge. “Yes, may I see your ... penis? Your ... cock?”

I watched the puzzlement on his face slowly fade. Comprehension dawned, like a slow light bulb turning on. He sat forward, a tight little smile on his face.

“Sure...” he said. “Why not?” As shy as he’d seemed earlier, I couldn’t believe the change that now seemed to come over him. And what boy, I thought, doesn’t like to show his cock off to his girlfriend’s mom?

He stood, and unzipped his zipper. He didn’t pull his pants down, he just pulled his soft cock through the slit, pulling his balls out also. His cock wasn’t totally soft, and I could tell it was hardening rapidly.

I was right, I told myself. Even soft, there was no doubt. He had a nice one. And those fat round balls! I remembered Peter’s cock, in those rare moment’s when it had been soft. Peter had a nice cock, and this one seemed no different. I felt the cock-trance take control of my body. Do not, I told myself, whatever you do, do not jeopardize this young man and your daughter’s relationship. No suckee, no fuckee. You may touch, but just to get it hard. Just to see how big it actually is.

I know that I was just justifying touching it, but like I said, I’m still proud of what I didn’t do that day. I am well aware of how skewed my sense of right and wrong has become over the years. But I felt like I did the right thing that time.

My trembling hand touched his hardening cock and circled the shaft. I gently tugged on it, and heard him groan above me.

“Brian,” I said, trying to sound remote and clinical. “You have a very nice penis. You should be proud. You are twice the man my husband is. Kirsten is a very lucky girl.” I was getting used to saying that “twice the man” thing about my husband. I’d said something identical to Peter, a few months ago. Sad, but true.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hardesty,” he said, and I almost giggled. I felt a pang of regret, at this new, more righteous person I had become. My mouth salivated. I wanted to feel that big tube of flesh in my mouth, against my tongue. I wanted to inhale it. The feel of his massiveness in my hand was unreal. What a lucky girl she is, I thought again. I did wonder, for a moment, how bad it would hurt. Brian’s cock was every bit as long as Peter’s, but maybe not quite as big around. I knew girth was what hurt, when the hymen was torn. I hoped for the best for the girl. I’d mention again having a doctor snip it. I’d give her the choice, at least. Although ... I couldn’t exactly explain why, I couldn’t say I’d actually seen Brian’s cock.

And, honestly. I know it’s not all about size. I’ve had guys smaller than Steven, even ... and I’ve been totally satisfied by them. It’s not the meat but the motion, like the song says. It’s all in the skill of the operator. But a nice fat one helps, and is ... aesthetically pleasing, or something. And this one, like Peter’s, made my eyes bug out.

It’s time to stop, I said mentally. He was as big as he’d ever get. Remember this, I told myself, remember the feel of him. Whatever happens, whether he becomes part of the family or not ... remember the feeling of him, in your hand. I almost cried. I wanted so bad to lean forward, and take him in my mouth ... or better yet, to to lay back, and have him plunge himself deep into my cunt. I wanted to suck his balls. I even wanted to lick his fucking asshole, for god’s sake. Shit, I thought, the next few hours are gonna be rough. It just wouldn’t be fair to Kirsten, I had to remind myself.

He seemed content to stand there, and let me stroke him. I realized I was almost hypnotized, and forced myself to return to reality. I took a shuddering breath.

“Brian ... darling...” I said, circling the cap of his cock with my fingers, rotating my hand slightly, my fingers sliding in his slippery pre-cum. I could tell from the way his body jerked that it felt good when I did that. I went on. “We will keep no secrets from Kirsten, other than this. We didn’t really do anything, but I’m not sure she’d understand. Okay?”

I looked up at him. He took a gasping breath, and said “Okay!” I leaned in, wetting my lips, and kissed his cock, right on the cap. No idea why. I guess I was kissing it goodbye. He gave a funny little snort, and I pulled away, a string of pre-cum following my lip and finally snapping. And, shit fire, out of the corner of my eye I saw movement. I turned my head, and from the hall, for a fraction of a second, Rodney met my eye. He turned away, silently heading upstairs. Shit, that sneaky little fucker, I thought, how the fuck does he do that?

“Zip it up, honey. We are through.” I said, as sad as I was to see it go. He did, rearranging his hardness, somehow getting it all back in his pants. I stood, and he stood before me awkwardly. I just seized him, and hugged him to my body. I felt his hesitant hands on my back.

“Brian ... thank you...” I said, whispering in his ear. “Thank you. If it happens, I’m sure you’ll make her happy, and me proud. Love her, hold her forever. I have nothing but hope for the two of you. Most of all, make her happy. Let her know you love her.”

I stared him in the eye, and then we closed, spontaneously. We pressed our lips together, for way too long. He tasted of youth ... youth and summer and manly men and football and even a little Colgate toothpaste ... I loved kissing him ... I could have gone on and on and on. Easy girl, I thought, easy. You’ve done good so far. Don’t fuck it up on the finish line. I finally pulled away.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hardesty,” he said, almost shyly, and I laughed.

“No, Brian,” I said, “Thank you.”

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