Chapter 4: Elizabeth And Virginia

In retrospect, it seems that everything starts in the laundry room. Well, not quite. Anyway, there I was, bending over the washer, sorting some dirty clothes. The windows were open to a beautiful Saturday morning, admitting the sound of neighborhood birds chirping about how good their lives were. The sound made my face and neck warm, as I thought that I too had a good life, a good fucking life, emphasis on the next to last word; Artie at night, Ernie after work before my husband got home, and Michael on Sunday afternoons and whenever else we could manage it...

My legs were splayed a bit as I felt Ernie's warm, creamy gift oozing out of my pussy. He was behind me, his groin pressed against my ass, as one of his hands weighed my breasts, feathering my nipples under a loose pajama top. My Ernie was a good sexual student, and a fantastic sexual partner. As I had been sucking his balls a few minutes earlier, I had been thinking about my husband, out of the golf course playing with a different type of balls. Unless he was with his simpleton secretary and she was the one playing with his balls.

Ernie had opened my shorts - why I had bothered to put them on, I couldn't say - and his other hand was on my panties, rubbing the wet spot. Shortly, his rubbing became more pronounced. My super-stud son, young as he was, had very empty balls; his cock was out of commission for a little while. But my teenage angel was still trying to get me to cum again, for the umpteenth time, and I was rubbing back against him. Soon his hand was inside my panties, his 'fuck you' finger slipping inside my tunnel of love. The sawing motion made an audible squish going in and out through the remnants of his love juice still inside me.

"That's enough, Ernie. I'm exhausted."

"Don't you like it, Mom?" I could hear a grin in his voice.

"Of course I do, but I've got work to do here. Why don't you go over to Ryan's house?"

"He's not home. He said he had something to do today."

"Well then, go over to the ball field and see who's there."

"OK, Mom." But his finger didn't stop. That little bastard was going to make me cum again, come hell or high water, and I no longer cared.

"Stop." I said it in a whisper.

"Sure, Mom." But he didn't. I continued to squirm against him as I sorted the colors on the rest of the dirty clothing. After all, a mother has to multi-task, and sorting laundry while being finger-fucker is do-able, although I admit that I do not file or color my nails when I'm in bed being fucked by my husband.

Suddenly I inhaled sharply and reached down to pull my son's hand out of my pussy.

"What's the matter, Mom? You didn't cum, did you?"

"Get out of here now, Ernie. Immediately. I'll take care of myself later."

He looked at my quizzically, could see that I really meant it and left without a further word, looking over his shoulder at my face.

Ernie's sister Ginny, my eldest (of two) is twenty-five, about ten years older than her brother. After college, she had gotten a position teaching in the local high school, and had her own apartment a mile away. But they never grow up; every week there was a bundle of laundry from her. And it was my pleasure to do it for her.

Still, it was a surprise to be holding a thong in my hand. Since when does Ginny wear this slutty kind of underwear? After those fumbling talks about the birds and the bees so many years earlier, I rarely talked about sex with her. She had never told me about the loss of her cherry, but I had no doubt that it had happened some time ago, probably in college, maybe even back in high school. OK, so she was having sex, but I'd have been more worried if she hadn't been. Only the new underwear surprised me.

And of course, as my fingers felt the crotch, it confirmed the presence of what every mother learns to identify; the tell-tale evidence of dried cum. So be it; my little girl is a grown woman, and sex is part of life. I wondered who the lucky young man was. I continued to sort, but I put all the panties to one side. Then I examined them. Five of the seven had those tell-tale stains of male sexual satisfaction. And they were not the result of lubrication while masturbating; these panties were marked by some man's cum, like a dog marks his territory by his urine.

Well, well, my daughter was really getting it off. The very idea turned me on, and soon my hand was replacing Ernie's inside me, to finish off what he had started. I felt for the one with the most cum stains; it was the thong. Oh ho, that must have been a hot one. I raised it to my nose; all I noticed was a faint girl scent, no trace of the man. On a whim - no, make that quite deliberately - I put the crotch into my mouth and began to suck the dried spot. I was trying to get the taste of her lover's sperm, saved after a visit inside my daughter's snatch, while at the same time my finger was plowing through the remnants of Ernie's recent visit beyond my vaginal lips.

It didn't take long; it never takes long for me to cum. I bit down onto the thong to mask the moan coming up from my throat; I leaned over on the dryer and rested while the throes of my orgasm subsided. Then I stood up and licked my finger clean, savoring the taste of Ernie's recent gift.

Five times in one week; that meant she wasn't fucking some date, but more likely a full-time lover. Mother had to know who he was. It was a tossing and turning night as I tried to fall asleep, to forget what was in the forefront of my maternal mind.

Ginny returned the following day to spend some time with me and to pick up her laundry. We were sitting on the back porch, chug-a-lugging some lemonade. No one could hear us; Ernie and his father were on the golf course.

"So tell me, Ginny, how's your love life?"

She blushed. "Oh, Mom."

"Seriously, what's his name?"

"Jeez, Mom, what makes you think there's somebody?"

I sighed deeply. "Your panties would make great evidence in a rape case."

I hadn't seen her face so red since she had been caught pilfering from the local candy store at age six.

Her face was serious. "You don't want to know, Mom."

"You're kidding. Of course I do."

"I can't tell you."

"Why not? I'm your mother, damn it. Is it one of the teachers in your school? Someone married?"

She shook her head and began to sob uncontrollably. She stood up and came to me; I stood to meet her and she fell into my arms. Her body shook as I held her.

"Let's go inside, Ginny. We'll talk there."

We sat in the living room. I said nothing, waiting for her tears to stop. She continually dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, still sobbing. After a while, she sat upright and opened her mouth to speak, but started bawling all over again. I got up to bring in more lemonade, and when I get back she was composed.

"May I start at the beginning?"

"Of course, dear." I guessed that I was about to hear her whole sexual history, and I was right.

"I was a virgin when I went to college. My only experience in high school was some oral sex, and that wasn't very enjoyable at the time."

"Now it is?" I said it with a smile, but she gave me a stern look, and I apologized.

"You remember my first roommate in college. One night, by chance there was a leak in the ceiling from the room above, right above my bed, and I had to move into her bed. You can guess what happened."

"There's nothing wrong with two women being with each other. I wasn't always an old married woman."

"Well, it lasted all through college, and even sometimes now."

"That doesn't explain dried sperm in your panties."

"Please, Mother. Anyway, we still both dated guys. She had a steady where she spent a lot of nights. I kept looking for Mr. Right. A few of them wound up on the couch with me for some under-the-clothing fumbling, and I would get the guy off with a hand job or usually a blowjob."

I raised my eyebrows at her language.

"Then one weekend my roommate's kid brother came up. He was going to stay with her boyfriend, but I took one look at him and knew that he was the one to take my cherry. We spent the weekend in bed and it was beautiful. This youngster was much more gentle and considerate than the older guys I had been dating. He used to come up every once in a while and it was wonderful. I decided that part of his goodness was his youth, and I began to date the kid brothers of some of the other girls. That became my preference."

"So the one you're seeing now is a younger boy? One of the students in your school?"

She blushed again. "That's why I took that job actually, for the high school boys, but this one is from a different high school."

I waited. She was going to tell me who's cum had been leaking into her panties, and there was no need to press.

"It's Ryan."

My hair stood on end. "Ryan McDermott from next door? Your brother's best friend?"

She nodded and began to cry again. I walked to her and she stood up for a motherly hug. Her head was on my shoulder and her body again shook. After a while she calmed down, and we continued to hold each other silently.

"Mom?"

"Yes. Dear/"

"Telling you finally has made me so hot. I want to go up to my old room and take care of myself."

I held her away from me and stared into her eyes, red from tears, hopeful for forgiveness for her sins.