Chapter 1

My mom is a Jane Mansfield look-alike, and I look like her, only my hair is much lighter and I am a foot shorter. She also has that look of a woman, born with class and elegance. She would look natural on a billionaire's arm, and she did, in fact, marry local wealth. We are very close, closer now than ever. After the divorce, when I was twelve, we became more like best friends. I am fifteen, now, and that friendship has grown beyond the norm. Our story is bizarre.

Mom didn't date after she and Dad split up. She was down on men. I tried to get her to go out, but she said she would rather spend time at home with me. When I turned fifteen, I began to feel smothered by her. I needed space.

I had just gotten a boyfriend, though Mom wouldn't let me go on a date with him. In that way, she was still a mother, overly so. I knew about sex and its consequences. I was in no hurry to experiment, but wanted more than a kiss. Mom and I talked openly about sex and boys. She even told me about masturbation and admitted she did it sometimes to ease the tension. We both got embarrassed whenever the conversation drifted to very personal stuff and sexual matters in particular.

Mom was not a social person. She only had one friend, Susan, a petite, sexy, blond divorcee with two boys a few years younger than me. Susan works in the office at my high school, so I see her at school as well as home. Susan is nothing like Mom. She was very liberal, adventuresome, brash, sometimes flighty. She rarely dated, though. When she went out, it was to get laid, and that was it. She changed radically after a few dates with a guy named Red Baker, a used car salesman. She turned into a vivacious, outrageous, swinging slut, but we still liked her. Her behavior at school changed as well, but I think that had more to do with our new principal, Hal Peterson.

Susan was forever trying to get Mom to attend the wild parties she went to. Mr. Peterson attended many of those parties, and it was he who introduced Susan to Red at the first one she attended. Mom is beautiful, drop-dead gorgeous my boyfriend says. Men are always ogling her. She dresses down to hide her trim yet voluptuous figure and rarely wears anything but pants and baggy sweaters.

I was on Susan's side, but I didn't want Mom in the bars trying to get picked up. She needed to mix and mingle, but not in bars, and not with Susan. Also, I wanted her to go out once in a while so that Brad, my boyfriend, could come over and not have Mom hovering over us. Besides, I was proud of my beautiful, sexy mom and thought she should flaunt her beauty.

At fifteen, I was fast on my way to getting my mother's figure as well. My breasts were full 34 C's' and still growing. My legs turned heads, and my ass drew leers which really bothered Mom. She hated seeing me turning into a woman. I loved it.

We talked about the changes we saw Susan go through. At first, Susan seemed resistant to a second date with Red. The first date, though dynamite in her opinion, was too much, she said. Red frightened her with his wild ideas and take-charge approach. He treated her like a two-bit whore, never like a lady, a fact that really pissed Mom off.

Susan kept seeing him and began making excuses for Red's behavior. She said she liked being with a real man and loved wearing the clothes he made her wear. That was hard to believe. Her clothes would put a hooker to shame. She wore those same outfits to school, since the dress code applied only to students and only Hal could say anything. He didn't care what the ladies wore. To top it off, Red forbade her to wear underwear--bra or panties. Susan got a real bad reputation at school. Everyone talked about her. I never told Mom.

It was shortly after Red and Susan were going out steadily. I was in the kitchen fixing an after-school snack when I heard Mom challenge Susan with, "My God, Susan! You just came from the school, and you aren't wearing panties? Is that Red's doing, too?"

Susan shot back, "Christ, Bonnie, you're as bad as those fucking kids. What are you doing looking up my skirt? Are you turning queer on me?"

"I was not looking up your skirt. I could not help noticing. Honestly, Susan, that skirt is so short, there's no need to look up it. It's all out there in plain sight when you sit."

Susan stood abruptly and said, "What I do or wear is my business. If you don't like it, I'll stop coming by." She stopped at the door and added, "You know, Bonnie, you need to get laid, and badly. You've been fucking those plastic dongs too long. If you tried a real man, you wouldn't be so quick to judge others."

She stormed out, slamming the door, leaving Mom with a blank stare on her shocked, hurt face. I came over to console her. I said, "Mom, don't worry. She'll be back. You know how excitable she's been lately. It's that Red guy."

"I know, Judy. I've seen it before--the golden phallus."

"The golden what?"

"Oh, nothing. Let's just say, some women go berserk over some men. Actually, over some mens' penises. The golden phallus. That's what happened to Susan. I understand. I've seen it before. The bad part is, golden pricks are only found on big pricks. Red is the biggest, so his is undoubtedly twenty-four carat. She certainly has it bad, and he's going to ruin her reputation. He'll probably get her fired before he dumps her."

"Mom, Susan is right about one thing; you should go out."

Mom sat up sharply and shot back, "I don't need that from you, Judy. I am still your mother, and I will not be addressed that way by a fifteen-year-old."

"Addressed what way?"

"I caught that inference. Don't play dumb, Judy. If I prefer an artificial penis to the real ones, that's my business and no one else's. Were you snooping around in my room? Did you tell Susan about my dildoes? If you want one, I'll get you one, but don't be messing with my personal things! And don't be telling people about my personal sex habits."

Her words stole my breath. It never dawned on me that my mother owned a dildoe--or dildoes. I couldn't even protest my innocence, because she got up and stormed off, slamming her bedroom door. I stood there, stupefied.

Her words kept echoing in my mind: "... my dildoes... If you want one, I'll get you one... snooping... golden phallus." I was dumbfounded. I thought, "She'd get me one? I was a virgin. What would a virgin do with a dildoe? Did she think I was not a virgin?"

This unpleasantness passed, and a few months later, Susan returned to her frequent daily visits. Nothing more was ever said about her state of dress, though Susan seemed to go out of her way to invite a remark. Those three months under Red's influence had a powerful effect on Susan. I liked the new Susan; Mom accepted the new Susan.

I noticed that Susan enjoys shocking my mom. Mom shocks easily. Dad was her first lover, and he obviously wasn't very creative in bed. Most of what I know about sex, I overheard from Susan's talks with Mom. I figured Mom learned most of what she knows from Susan's talks, too.

Besides showing her beaver much more than accident could account for, Susan sported a new tattoo of a rose on her left labia. After the tattoo healed, she boldly showed it to us by hiking her skirt and parting her legs. Mom and I were flabbergasted to say the least. It was not so much the tattoo as the way she displayed the tattoo: sitting back in her chair with her legs as wide open as they'd go. In addition, she'd taken to shaving her pussy--all of it! All we could manage was open-mouthed stares.

It was the most exciting, brash thing I'd ever seen Susan or any female do. I loved looking at Susan's naked pussy, tattoo or no tattoo. Mom seemed intrigued. She stared as openly as I did.

We learned to adjust to the new Susan. Mom grew even closer to her. She tolerated Susan's use of the foulest language, even when I was in the room. Mom began spending more time at Susan's house than Susan spent at ours. A few days after the tattoo scene, Mom entered the house after running over to Susan's to borrow something. She looked flushed and out of breath. I said, "Mom, what's the matter!"

She began pacing quickly, talking more to herself. She said, "I don't believe what I just saw. I don't believe it! No! It can't be! Not Susan; not any mother. Having sex right in front of her kids like an animal. And those boys. Not a stitch on them. Kneeling within reach of her. Fisting their erections! Touching her. Touching their mother while she... she... My God! Has Susan lost her mind?"

"Mom! What are you talking about?"

"Oh, Judy! Don't you breathe a word of this to anyone. Do you hear me? Not a soul, especially not Cindy Greyson."

Cindy is my best friend, though she's a year ahead of me in school. I was a sophomore; she was a junior. Cindy is the most beautiful girl in the school, probably the whole state. She wins every beauty contest she enters.

The problem Mom had with Cindy was that she was Estelle Greyson's daughter. Estelle Greyson owned the county. She was a rich bitch. Everybody called her the Ice Queen. She and Mom were best friends once, but they drifted apart. Mom still wants Estelle to think of her as a debutante, pure and proper, which she was anyway.

I knew why Mom was so upset. It was because she feared that Estelle might find out that Mom's best friend was an incestuous slut. Debutantes are known by the company they keep. Susan was an incestuous slut, but Mom didn't want anyone, least of all Estelle Greyson, to know. If she knew that Cindy knew everything I knew, she'd die.

I said, "Mom, what's going on?"

"Our Susan has really gone off the deep end, Judy. The woman is nuts, crazy. It's that pervert she's seeing, that Red guy. He put her up to this. Jesus, her own kids! I'll bet Billy isn't twelve, and Stevie, I know, is only thirteen. She could end up in jail, and I'd be forced to go to Estelle to get her out. I'd die if it came to that. I swear, I would simply stop breathing right after I saved that stupid slut."

"Billy is twelve, Mom"

"They didn't even slow down when they saw me standing there. I think they actually enjoyed having me watch. And those boys, showing off their erections to me as though they we displaying sports trophies. The nerve of those kids. Pointing them right at me, stroking them suggestively, all the while Susan is on her hands and knees, grinning like the cat that ate the canary while that monster kept pumping and pumping. Oh, God, it was obscene, so obscene."

Mom was flushed and getting more flushed just reliving the event. To me, she looked aroused. I found the news stimulating and was wishing I'd gone to borrow the whatever. I said, "How long did you watch them?"

"Long enough. I didn't mean to, but they surprised me. I was unprepared, stunned."

Mom lapsed into a far off look. I said, "How long?"

"Ten, maybe twelve inches... oh, no... I mean... what did you say?"

"How long were you there?"

Mom hurried past and into her bedroom, saying, "I am not about to give you a blow by blow, Judy. Do the dishes. Clean your room. Do something, but don't disturb me."

She entered her room. I stared at the closed door. A moment later, the door opened. Mom poked her head out and said, "Yes, if you must know, I am going to masturbate. I will be using my dildoes. They better be right where I left them. And, I better not see any look on your face when I come out. I am an adult!" With that, she shut the door.

I eased back to the living room and plopped on the sofa. My mind, however, was in there with my mother. My imagination ran wild, going from the scene probably still taking place at Susan's and the one taking place in my mother's bedroom. My hand gradually strayed into my panties. I was eager to titillate my freshly shaved vagina--a shave inspired by Susan.

Since we don't ever walk around in the nude, and we respect each other's privacy, I felt safe shaving my pussy. Only Brad might find out; but, so far, he hadn't tried. He couldn't with Mom always nearby.

I could not picture Mom getting screwed by Red, or any guy, but I could easily picture Susan. Having seen her pussy numerous times made it easy, and I could imagine a foot long cock. I had seen Red a few times, coming and going. He was nothing special, kinda short with a receding hairline, slightly chubby. He looked and dressed like a used car salesman, and he looked like a pervert.

I could also easily imagine the cocks on Stevie and Billy. Susan gave me my first baby sitting job at age eleven. Stevie and Billy were nine and eight. I could not get them to wear clothes when I sat for them, and showing off their little hardons was their favorite pastime. In fact, jerking off was their favorite pastime. I feigned anger and told on them, but Susan just said, "Boys will be boys." Mom put a halt to my sitting when I told her about their constant masturbation.

Actually, I liked what they were doing. They gave me my first good look at cocks, immature though they were. They'd even rubbed their cocks on me when I tried to ignore them, sometimes rubbing the heads on my face, especially over my lips. I wanted so badly to open my mouth, but the most I ever did was allow them to press the heads between my lips, rubbing their hard dicks on my teeth and gums while I pretended to watch TV or read.

They also were relentless in trying to feel me up. I loved the way they assaulted me, grabbing at my pussy. Since I had no tits, my pussy was the main attraction. I wore dresses after that first night. I knew to expect a hand up my skirt whenever I bent over or had my hands full. I discovered many creative ways of placing myself at their mercy. Billy was the best at getting inside my panties and fingering my horny cunt. Stevie was more into looking.

Their antics progressed over time. On my fourth visit, they wrestled my panties from me. I only fought for appearances sake. They got good at divesting me of my panties. I got good at helping them without appearing too obvious. The first time I turned my back on them, I could count on hands going up my dress from the rear, hooking my panties, and yanking them to my ankles. This was my cue to stumble. That's when they'd take them from my flailing legs and get an excellent, prolonged look at my pussy. Each boy would take a leg and draw me into the splits while I laid helplessly on my back, squealing and protesting. That's where I discovered the joy of forced exposure. Most of my fantasies involve being forced to strip naked and spread my legs for strangers.

Once they tired of this, they'd release me and run with my panties. There would be a few minutes of keep-away before I would resign myself to being sans panties for the rest of the evening.

Without panties, both boys easily got what they wanted, when they wanted. I would fight with them, half-heartedly, for the first hour, then feign surrender, allowing free access to my crotch while acting the part of the poor maiden at their mercy.

After a month, we settled into a routine. Resistance was futile, even if I wanted to resist. Right after Susan left, they'd strip. Once naked, they'd converge on me and casually remove my panties. I offered no resistance, stepping free of the panties as Stevie took them from my feet.

Susan got wise to our games. She knew her boys and she saw through me. She often found my panties, returning them to me on the sly with a wink. Once, while saying goodbye at the door, giving her last minute instructions, Billy came up from behind and yanked my panties down to my ankles. I just stood there with a dumb look on my face. Susan was on the front porch, looking from my panties to my face. She gave me a knowing smile as Billy rummaged under my skirt and got his finger in my pussy. I simply stood stock still, awed by his bold behavior and her casual acceptance of it.

Susan's smile gave me the courage to allow Billy to continue unhindered as she dragged out the parting formalities, obviously enjoying my discomfort and embarrassment. Billy rapidly and crudely jammed two fingers up my twat from the rear. Susan's eyes lingered on the skirt being moved at my crotch. I felt weak in the knees and almost panicked when Billy, emboldened by his mother's complacency, reached around front with his free hand and began to gather my hem, lifting up.

I stood, frozen, as Stevie dropped to my feet. He grabbed my left ankle and applied upward pressure, signaling his desire to relieve me of my panties. By this time, my dress was moving over my mound and cool night air wafted between my swollen lips and moist interior tissues. Susan kept talking, trying to keep me from bolting. This knowledge gave me the strength to lift my left foot, then my right, giving Stevie his prize.

Stevie held my panties up towards his mother. She smiled, took them, and stuffed them in her purse without pausing in her lecture. While Stevie remained at my feet, staring into my crotch from inches away, Billy had managed to get my dress up past my belly button. Susan watched her son's fingers going rapidly in and out of my wet pussy. At this point, I was close to a climax and could not have cared if the school band came marching up the walk.

Susan watched me cum, then came up and gave me a kiss on the lips, saying, "Don't worry. This will be our little secret. You are the best sitter I ever had. I don't want to lose you. You kids have fun." She left, smiling.

When Mom put an end to my sitting, Susan pleaded mightily. Her pleas had no effect. Mom knew how bad Susan's boys were. They were always trying to look at her tits when she wears a low-cut blouse, and three times she caught them peeking in our windows. I caught them doing that dozens of times, but never told Mom. Since my sitting days, they have carefully monitored my tittie development and watched my blond bush grow. I masturbated for them, never letting on that I knew they were there.

They used to come over to our house with their mother, but that ended two years ago. I have had little contact with them since then. Their visitation privileges ended when Mom caught them under our dining table. They had carefully folded open her robe. She was naked underneath. Mom had a fit. Yes, I could easily imagine what Mom saw the boys doing to their mother while she was getting screwed. The idea thrilled me as it obviously had her.

I figured I had a good hour before Mom would emerge. This wasn't the first time she disappeared into her room in the middle of the day and locked the door. She did the same thing after the robe incident with Susan's boys. Sometimes, she'd be at it for several hours. After twenty minutes or so, I was really into pleasing myself. I had reclined fully on the sofa, removed my panties, and had my legs out wide, pounding away at my cunt, trying for a fourth orgasm. I was damned near there, too, when I heard, "Excuse me," coming from the end of the sofa where my legs were sprawled out over the padded armrest.

I immediately jerked my legs together, rolled onto my side, and tried to tug my skirt down. Mom stood leering down on me. While I blushed twelve shades of red, she said, "If you don't want an audience, you should do that in a private place." I was mortified. She went on, "Judy, you shaved your vagina, didn't you? It's all right; I'm not angry; I just want another look. Would you mind?"

"Mom! Please! This is so embarrassing."

"I know, but I am your mother. We are both girls, after all. Come on, sweetheart. The damage is already done. You have no secrets now. Come on, open up. Let me see what you've done to yourself."

"Mom, no!"

"Judy! Open your legs, this instant. I tried being nice; now I am telling you--spread your legs."

She was dead serious. I gulped, then rolled onto my back and slowly stretched out my legs. Mom pushed my skirt back as I grimaced. For what seemed an eternity, she stared without a word. Oddly, having her eyes on my most intimate anatomy gave me a slowly building erotic rush. Before long, I welcomed her looks and relaxed, looking into her face as she studied my shaved beaver. When she noticed me looking, she said, "The shave looks very nice, Judy. Was it difficult? You did a very good job."

"It wasn't easy."

She leaned in closer and said, "I'll bet, but the skin looks very clean and smooth. How often do you shave your vagina?"

"I just started two days ago. I just shaved it again at noon."

She advanced a hand tentatively, halted, and said, "May I?" I nodded weakly. Her finger lightly touched my right cunt lip and sent a jolt through me. I sucked in a quick breath that made her smile. Her fingers traced over my denuded pussy, up one lip, down the other, over the mons, and back around again. More fingers came into play. They trailed through my very wet crack and dragged across my standing clitty. Her finger pressure increased after my legs fell further apart. Her fingertips dragged over my lips and clit, pushing aside the fleshy parts, spreading the wetness in the process.