Copyright © 1997 and 2002, Phil Phantom

Cindy saw that the door to my bedroom wasn't all the way closed, so the knock-before-entering rule did not apply. She opened the door and said, "Mom, I... MOM!

I jumped to place my back to the wall and yanked-up the bathing suit I was stripping out of, crying, "Cindy! GET OUT!"

Ignoring the order, my curious sixteen-year-old marched in, saying, "Mom, what was that?"

With the suit clutched in place but not tied, I said, "That was none of your business. Cindy, please! Get out of my bedroom!"

I held the one-piece up to my breasts as Cindy tried to get me to face the wall, saying, "No, I wanna see. Come on, Mom. I saw enough. So that's why you refuse to wear a bikini. Mom, let me look."

Cindy managed to get me turned sideways and was pulling at the loose suit, still trying to get me to face the wall. I fought the downward pull, so Cindy pulled the stretchy material out in back and looked down at my naked moons, exclaiming, "They're names. That's what I thought. What's it about? Are these needle and ink tattoos? They look like it. How many names are there? Let me look, Mom."

I slowly let myself be turned and gradually let the suit be pulled down. I tried to melt into the wall as my excited and precocious daughter dropped to her knees to work the suit all the way down my legs, leaving me naked and facing a wall. I moaned, "Cindy, get up. Don't move my suit down that far. You don't need that good a look."

Cindy ignored those words and pushed the one-piece suit to my fucking ankles. She tried to lift each foot, but I refused to cooperate and would shift my weight to the foot Cindy tried to raise. Cindy abandoned the effort; and instead, placed both hands on the lower globes of my ass and pried out, bringing a quick tensing to the cheeks along with the outcry, "OH, Cindy! Stop! Don't you dare!"

"Mom, this is unreal. How many names are there? Damn! They're even between your legs!"

"CINDY!" I cried, for all the good it did.

"Relax, will ya. I've gotta check this out."

Under increased finger pressure, I cried, "Cindy--Stop! I mean it." I felt the thumbs move lower and pry out harder making my twat suck air. I turned ten shades of red as Cindy exclaimed, "Holy shit!"

"Oh, God!"

And again she exclaimed, "Wow! This is too much. You shave your pussy!"

I should have immediately pounced on Cindy's vulgar actions and words for to say nothing would only invite more. Still, I thought the timing was bad and my position was worse. I simply said, "Let me go, Cindy. Stop being vulgar."

She ignored me, saying, "Oh, wow! You let someone put tattoos on your pussy lips, and why all these names all over your ass? Who are these guys? Mom... are these all guys that have had you? Are they? Did all these guys screw you?... They did, didn't they? That's why there's hash marks by some of the names. They had you more than once. That's it, isn't it?"

The fight drained from me at Cindy's words of realization. My secret was now out, understood, and under examination. As many times as I had gone over this scenario, and with all the possible consequences, you'd think I'd be ready, but I never once imagined a scene like this or a reaction like this, much less the consequences. I never saw Cindy so excited. For once, I did something she approved of and it turned out to be that stupid thing I did in my youth. Any second I expected her to tell me I was cool, boss, bitchin', or bomb, certainly not dumb or stupid.

I took a deep breath and said, "Yes, that's what it is. Are you happy, now? May I have my privacy, now?"

"Wow, all these guys screwed you?"

"Cindy..."

"There must be... thirty-five... no, forty. Wait, are there more in the front?"

Cindy tried to spin me and almost succeeded, but I made a lunge for the bed, falling face down on the mattress. She tried to roll me over, but I kicked free of the suit and spread my arms and legs in a counter move. Seeing the enticing spread and the futility of flipping her panicked mother who out-weighed her by a good twenty pounds, Cindy straddled my back in reverse, facing the spread legs, over-looking my bare tattooed ass. She quickly dug her nails into my sensitive inner thighs to prevent closure, saying, "Keep 'em open, Mom."

I winced but had no intention of closing my legs. The fight, once again, went out of me. Resistance was futile and not even desirable. Surrender might even prove interesting. Hell, I had nothing else to do and we did need to talk about this. Her way was as good as any, and she had never straddled me before. Feeling her intimate inner thigh skin and the moist warmth from her crotch on my naked body felt... interesting... sorta kinky. When Cindy felt the muscles relax, she relaxed her grip, then repositioned her hands as she sat up.

Her hands flowed over the names as she said, "What's this all about, Mom? I hope you know, I'm not letting you up till you tell me."

I could easily have bucked my ninety-two-pound daughter off, but made no attempt. I had surrendered. With that message conveyed and apparently accepted, Cindy got brave, placed her fingers along both sides of my ass crack and pulled, bringing my puckered anus out in the open along with a groan from the other end. Cindy was quick to note no sign of resistance, even though she stretched my ass cheeks wide.

This was a bit too personal. I said, "Let me up. Let me get dressed, then we'll talk."

"No, we can talk here and now. I know you. Once you get dressed, you'll clam up, send me to my room, and that'll be the end of it. Besides, I'm not done looking."

She kept pulling and peering as I turned another ten shades of red hearing her say, "God, they're everywhere, even in your butt crack." She then began counting, touching each name as she did. I laid still, thinking of my next course and limited options. I needed the time to think.

I could, of course, bring my legs together, squeeze my butt cheeks together, or heave Cindy off. I could raise my voice to impending-restriction decibels and order her off. I could re-assert parental authority and my dignity, but there was still the issue of that terrible secret, no longer secret but more terrible than ever, because it was now out and being tallied. I never imagined my secret would be inventoried.

I grimaced under the between-the-legs count as Cindy's fingers shifted lower and pulled cheeks and cunt lips apart, sending cool air across wet membranes no daughter should ever see much less feel. I tried to remain silent for this humiliating inspection, but when Cindy repositioned her fingers and laid forward to pull the vaginal lips themselves wide open, I had to cry out, "Cindy! Stop that! I mean it!"

I could feel the warm breath wafting over my internal membranes with each breath Cindy took. My daughter's chin rested in my fucking butt crack. Believe me, this was not like Cindy and nothing like me to allow her that level of intimacy. This was down right kinky and getting kinkier. She was that close as she said, "I'm counting names. They're everywhere else. I figured there might be some in here, too."

I endured a thorough inspection between the lips of my pussy, a thoroughly humiliating inspection that involved fingers pushing and pulling the fleshy parts about as though looking for the fine print or feeling for names in Braille. My daughter opened every wrinkle and fold, stretched-out the clit and inner lips, then scoured the rim of my vagina for names.

Though it killed me to allow such liberties, I said nothing during this lengthy and crude vaginal inspection, even as an inquisitive finger entered my most intimate orifice and was soon joined by another. As the fingers went in to the palm, I sucked a deep breath, then bit my lower lip as the fingertips massaged my cervix.

I could not believe Cindy would take such liberties or be so bold in taking them, almost inviting a protest as she sat up but kept the fingers inside, saying, "Well, I didn't see any, and I don't feel any, but you never know. I'll bet your front is covered in names, isn't it? I'll bet they're on your belly, too. I've never seen your belly. Is that why? Do you have names tattooed on your boobs, too? I've never seen them, either. I'll bet you do. I'll bet your tits are covered just like your ass and pussy are."

Cindy removed her fingers and sat up, wiping the wet fingers on dry ass cheek. It was then I felt the slippery, warm wetness on my back, and with it, the realization that Cindy had no panties on under the short summer dress. My daughter's aroused sex felt like a giant warm-blooded slug. When Cindy shifted, she slid on a slime trail, a very odd sensation.

Cindy said, "I counted forty-two names, but I know there are more. I could see more, but I only counted whole names I could see. How many more are there--a hundred? I'll bet there's more than a hundred. You know, don't you? I know you must have kept track."

"Cindy, you're not wearing panties, are you?"

"That's why I came in here, to borrow a pair. I guess you can tell, huh?" Cindy slid up and back by a few inches, giggled, and said, "That must feel weird. It feels weird to me--good and weird."

Weird is an understatement. Cindy did more back-sliding, then brought her feet in and squatted to do more back-sliding on the bony upper portion of my spinal column, dragging her clit over the bumps, moaning, "Ohhh, that feels good."

We were now into some very kinky shit. I looked straight ahead as I felt my daughter's widened pussy sliding between my shoulder blades, leaving a slick to my tail bone that cooled instantly as the pussy passed by, only to be rapidly warmed when it returned. My daughter was right, it did feel weird - good and weird - good and kinky, too.

Cindy moved her heels into my armpits to scoot her cunt further up the spine. Shortly after assuming the new position, Cindy's ass bumped the back of my head as she tried to work her cunt over the neck portion of my spine, cooing, "Oh, wow, this is a trip. You've got a great neck, Mom. DonÕt ever put on any weight. ItÕs perfect."

I buried my forehead in the mattress to elevate my neck, making it even greater. I even brought my hands back to pull my long hair clear. With Cindy's hands clutching my ass cheeks and using that handhold to move herself along the neck portion of the spine, I re-weighed my options and decided to wait and see what Cindy was up to besides masturbating on my neck. Rolling over to satisfy my daughter's curiosity now seemed an option; discussing the tattoos she'd find, an inevitability.

Lending myself to the vulgar treatment helped take the edge off my nerves. I enjoyed the strange massage, though I wasn't sure I liked or understood the message that came with it. Cindy's skinny ass made a great back massager, and the girl certainly enjoyed herself. Perhaps, I mused, that was all there was to it, and my daughter wasn't actually saying, "Just lie there while I use you to get off, BITCH!"

The tattooed names had an impact on my oldest child, but not the one I had expected and dreaded for sixteen years. If there was shock and condemnation, it didn't show in the vaginal lubricants Cindy poured down on my back. If Cindy thought her mother was a slut, then she had nothing against sluts, or more accurately, mothers who were once sluts. I had to wonder if Cindy admired mother sluts, ex or otherwise, because a very slimy cunt moved on my back.

We had sex of a sort, a sort she liked and I cooperated with. I bowed my back by getting up on my elbows and hanging my head. She eventually humped my spine and got her rocks off. After her orgasm, Cindy returned to the ass, sliding all the way down to sit in the saddle of my lower back. As I returned to lying flat, she said, "I know. I'll count hash marks."

She began counting by fives, Many of the names that had hash marks, had them in groups of five. The count eventually centered between the legs where most of the hash mark groups were. When Cindy laid forward to get comfortable for this counting chore, I felt bare skin and nipples on my ass. Cindy had removed her dress without me being aware. I was aware, now, and the hard little titties on which those hard nipples rested were now flattened to the top of my ass cheeks as Cindy brought her head even lower between the legs, still counting by fives, but using one hand to toy with pussy parts, sometimes engaging in a crude finger-fuck, driving me to distraction.

Cindy counted, "Two-twenty, two-twenty-five, two-thirty. Wow, two-hundred and thirty, plus thirty or forty more single marks, at least. Let's say, two seventy-five for the back and between the legs. I'll bet the front has at least that many. That means, my mom was screwed by eighty-four guys... let me see... two times two-seventy-five..."

I interrupted my daughter's math chore to say, "There's a total of one-hundred and twenty-two names and six-hundred and fifty-seven hash marks, Cindy."

"GEE-ZUSS! Do you know what that makes you, Mom?"

"Embarrassed."

"No, a slut."

"I didn't need that, Cindy."

"Well, it does. Roll over."

Cindy got up and reversed her straddle in anticipation of the roll, but I waited, saying, "Before I roll over, I want to explain something."

"Roll over, then explain. I wanna see the mother lode."

"These tattoos weren't my idea or my doing, Cindy."

"I don't care. I want to see them."

"It doesn't matter to you that these were forced on me?"

"No."

"So no matter how I got them, I'm still a slut in your eyes?"

"Yes, any girl that screws more than three guys is a slut in my book."

"So, if a girl gets raped more than three times, she's a slut?"

"Yes. Any girl that gets raped that much is doing something to invite rape. She's a slut. You're already a super slut. Roll over. I wanna see a mega slut." My clit gave a lurch at this verdict, and gave another when Cindy said, "This must be some kind of slut record. Did you start screwing when you were three?"

"If you must know, I was seventeen and a few months when I started... I should say, when they started me."

"That settles it, then. If that many guys fucked you in that short a period that many times, you are a mega slut. Roll over, damnit!"

"It wasn't that short a period. This continued on for several years into the marriage. We're probably talking five years, and there hasn't been a single one since moving to California over twelve years ago."

"I was counting from then till now. You mean all this was done in just five years? Face it, Mom, you are a mega slut. Hey, wait a minute! You got married at eighteen and you were six months pregnant with me at the time. I don't look anything like Daddy, and John doesn't either. My guess is one of these names is my real father. I'm right, aren't I?"

"Cindy... I..."

"Don't lie to me. I'm not stupid."

"I wasn't going to lie. I want to discuss this but in a more dignified setting and position. At least, take your fingers out of my ass."

"This is a dignified position for a mega slut, and you like getting finger-fucked, even in your asshole, so quit acting like you don't. Your slut pussy is drooling. If you mention it again, I might stop, so think about that."

I thought about that, and thought silence was the best policy on that subject. The fingering did take more of the edge off.

Cindy let the silence become deafening as she plunged her other fingers in a vulgar assault on the slobbery cunt. After a few minutes, just as I neared a whopper of an orgasm, Cindy eased her pussy pounding tempo and said, "I'll bet he got the best place with the most hash marks. My father is on your pussy, isn't he? Roll over so I can see the name at the top of all those hash marks that cover your slut pussy. I want to see how many times my father fucked you."

As Cindy tried hard to roll me over, I said, "Don't jump to that conclusion, Cindy. They were all trying to get me pregnant."

"Yeah, but he did. You were his slut. He'd take first crack. I look like him, don't I? He has dark hair and dark eyes, doesn't he?"

"Yes, but many more fit that description."

"I knew it! God damnit, you fucking slut, roll over! I want to meet my daddy." Cindy punctuated her passionate demand by slapping my ass. The slap was hard but not delivered with malice. She still held no personal hatred of mother sluts and the "fucking slut" she blurted out was simply for dramatic effect, not a change of attitude. As a result, I did not take it personally and moved to comply. Cindy raised up on the balls of her feet as my hips rotated between her feet. When I came full around and settled onto my back, Cindy exclaimed, "FUCK!"

I laid looking at a spot on the ceiling as Cindy settled her ass to my upper thighs, her hands fanned out to frame the boldest name, the only professional tattoo in fancy letters and in color, one that covered most of the top area where hair normally grew on a woman's pubic mound--Frank Stallone.

I could feel my daughter's eyes taking in the rest. The names were thick on my pelvic area and breasts, and those on the belly were sparse as though placed there as a last resort when all the good areas had been taken. Most of those names had no hash marks or very few. I heard Cindy say, "Oh, my God--Frank Stallone--he had your cunt all to himself. Every place that cunt hair grows is all his, and it's almost all used. I'm Frank Stallone's little girl. I'm Cindy Stallone."

Cindy got up and knelt between my legs the way Frank used to fuck me. She pushed my knees out and gawked instead of cramming cock in me. I said, "You don't know Frank Stallone, do you?"

"How could I? I've never been back to Glendale since I was old enough to walk, but I like the name. Oh, God, there must be a hundred hash marks for him alone."

"One-hundred and seventeen."

"He fucked you one-hundred and seventeen times?"

"He ejaculated in my vagina that many times, yes. That's what the hash marks indicate. He had oral and anal sex with me at least that many more."

"That's great! Say, how come there's no stubble?"

"He had the hair removed permanently by electrolysis."

"Oh, man, what a cool dude. His name will never get covered over with cunt hairs. That is so cool. These are just pussy fucks, then. No one else even came close, did they? Who was number two, and how many times did he get to cum in your cunt?"