Chapter 8

June 15, 2017 (Thursday)

Dear Ms. Diary,

This week was quiet, but Mom sent texts covering Sunday and Monday, both “Y,” and last night, which was “N.” I had actually hung out for a while in the living room on Tuesday night hoping to hear or see some action in my parents’ room, but it was not to be.

Mom informed me of a family meeting after dinner tomorrow night. Hmm, I wonder what the topic of discussion is. As if I did not know. I have thought about how to answer the question or to respond to the proposal; I am expecting the proposal to pass. Certainly, the conversations Mom has played for me suggest that the smart money is on a clothing-optional policy being put into effect.

In the interim, the team is going to thrash Midland today; game at 10:30.

I was right, but the thrashing we gave Midland was worse than I’d expected. We put the second offense and backup goalie on the field midway through the second half, and that offense even scored a goal. I had passed Rhee’s suggestion to Coach, and she had run with it. The passing practice – essentially, triangle passing with more understanding than we had had previously – was intense on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, after watching video of Barcelona for a couple hours on Saturday and a bit more on Monday. While our passing was not even close to Barça-esque, Midland did not know what to do against it. Rhee got four goals, I got my first-ever hat trick, and we kept the ball in their end of the field for most of the game and won 9-0. I sort of felt sorry for them. Now, we’ve got Friday off. Yippee.

While Rhee and I were walking back to my house after the team’s celebratory lunch at Granny Brown’s, I casually mentioned the upcoming family meeting tomorrow night.

“What are you guys going to be discussing,” Rhee asked.

I felt I should not tell her, so skirted the question with, “They haven’t told me, only that it was mandatory and right after dinner.”

“Hmm. Interesting.” Rhee’s face took on a thinking appearance, and then she came out with, “Hey! Maybe they’re going to discuss you and me getting your Dad to take our virginities! Wouldn’t that be great?!”

I turned crimson.

“Haha. You’re blushing. Is that it? No, I guess not. That would be wonderful, though.”

“Yeah, just the thought of that can sometimes get me going. It’s just so frustrating that the most interesting male in my life, and by a long shot, is my own Dad. The only person within hailing distance is Brett.”

“Not Bradley,” she asked in a faux breathless voice.

“You funny, girl,” I responded in a fake Oriental accent. “He’s pretty, but, man, is he a jerk. I wouldn’t want him within three blocks of my naked body.”

“It’s a good thing he lives four blocks away, then.”

I snorted ... then said, “Brett is quite funny ... if you can get him to talk at all. I think he’ll be the catch of the class, once he fills out a bit and loses some of that shyness.”

“Really? I guess I can see that. Maybe. I don’t suppose ... no, we’re leaving too early in the morning, so you probably can’t stay over tonight.”

Rhee and her mom had plans for a long weekend, so I wouldn’t see her until Monday’s practice.

As we reached my sidewalk, Rhee hugged me and said, “See ya, Monday.”

I was lying in bed reading this evening when something I read got me thinking. The thought process was a long, strange trip through barely connected topics until it bumped up against the family meeting tomorrow night. And sex. And my parents.

“Hmm,” I thought, “would Mom be on sexual edge due to the coming meeting and the almost-certain clothing policy? Would that get her amped for some exhibitionistic hanky-panky?”

I answered myself, “Is the clear, daytime sky blue?”

I donned a t-shirt and loose shorts and crept down the stairs and through the kitchen to my observation post.

Bingo! Mom was sitting on the edge of the bed with Dad standing in front of her, between Mom and the bedroom door. Mom was naked, Dad was wearing only undies and Mom was in the process of divesting him of those.

[Aside: Why is it “undies” – plural – when it is only one piece of clothing? Because it’s short for “underpants?” And why is it “pants,” anyway?]

Dad’s ass came into view and after Mom got him to step out of his underwear [that’s better; singular; sort of], she reached around with her right hand and was massaging and squeezing Dad’s left butt cheek; her left hand was out of sight between them. My suspicion that she was manhan ... er ... woman-handling his penis was proven true when both her hand and his cock came into view just to the right of his ass. Her head seemed to be in his crotch, though I could not see what she was doing. However, shortly her face came into view as she appeared to be kissing the length of his cock, heading for the head.

Mom then rocked my world. As her mouth slowly – at least, it seemed slow, like everything was in slow-motion – enveloped his cockhead, Mom looked right at me in the mirror and winked her left eye. How does she always know I am there?! She then “forced” him to spread his legs slightly so she could reach a hand in to fondle his balls. But she never took her eyes off me!

My right hand found itself inside my shorts as I spread my legs to allow better access to my dripping pussy and my left hand reached into my shirt and started playing with my right breast. My eyes? They were glued to my mother’s face, which had half of a cock shoved into it. Her eyes closed once in seeming bliss, but they quickly reopened to stare at me. Dad’s hands were now on her head, seemingly motionless; his mouth was emitting moans and nonsense syllables. Mom pulled her head back but kept her tongue on the cock she was loving, swirling around and around the head, and going on occasional expeditions up the shaft to Dad’s balls.