NNGGHH, NNGGHH, NNGGHH! There it was again, that same old grunt that we hear from professional tennis players on television as they serve aces past a weak opponent, or when actors have a make-believe fight, that same old grunt that Ted uses on each stroke as he slams his cock into my defenseless – but willing - cunt. But unlike that hapless tennis player, or third rate actor, I'm able to return that serve, thrusting my hips upward to meet him halfway, to feel him slam the crown of his blood filled fuck tool against my cervix.
My Ted, though I have serious doubts that any woman will ever truly be able to say 'my' about him, is hung like a stallion, has the endurance of a long distance runner and can deliver a load of his creamy, tasty cum inside whatever opening he's using as if it were coming from a fire hose or an oil tanker hose. He's six feet tall and weighs a hundred eighty pounds, all of it hard muscle. His hair is black but tinged with just a hint of gray, as befits a man in his early forties. He has the face of Adonis, which means that (I'm sure) other women throw themselves at his feet, as did I, as still do I.
The couch on which we lay entangled was covered in light brown fabric with a slight pattern, perfectly complementing the darker brown carpeting under my naked right foot. My left leg was thrown over the back of the couch, exposing my loins to receive those wonderful thrusts. I knew that soon my vaginal walls would be marinating in the sweet sauce of this man's orgasmic gift.
I also knew that in 'soon' plus five minutes, I'd be on my knees in front of that couch, trying to clean up whatever cum had drooled from my cunt and whatever stains had been left by my naked ass rubbing on the couch during his pounding. That five minute interregnum would have been spent kissing his damp cock and licking it clean, a process that Ted seems to like even more than the ejaculation itself.
My own orgasm had come early, compliments of his eloquent tongue, and then repeated itself quickly when the actual fucking began, thus allowing me to look around as his cock continued its delightful work.
NNGGHH, NNGGHH, NNGGHH!
His desk, over which I had bent often in order to take him doggy style, was made of expensive cherry wood, appropriate to his business success. Behind it stood an equally expensive leather high-backed chair, on which he sat whenever we only had time for a quickie blow job – or on which I sat when he was in a good enough mood to settle for going down on me. Opposite the desk were two visitor chairs, garbed in the identical fabric as that of the couch.
Not a single piece of paper lay on the desk. It was ready to accept whatever documents might be placed in front of him for his perusal and approval. The blank area was framed with trophies of all sorts, given to him by various charities and public groups, with a center-piece of a framed photograph of Ted and his wife, together with their two children, appropriately one of each gender. Both were youngsters, the boy about fourteen and the girl just reaching the age of menstruation.
Flanking the desk on each side, against the wall, were flags of the United States and of the Great State of 'Joe-Ja' as he pronounced it. Behind his chair were plaques attesting to his wonderful works, given to him by those same types of organizations. Under those, right at head level, was another picture of Ted and his wife, in formal garb, sans children. On each side of that the pieces de resistance, signed photos of Ted and two former Presidents, one from each party. Sprinkled around the room were photos of his various construction projects, taken from either airplanes or outer space.
For Ted, one of the most successful and richest building contractors in the State was trying to get started in the elusive chase for a political appointment or elective office. After that, he had his eye on bigger and better things. And I and my pussy planned to be there with him. I pledge that to myself whether or not he gets rid of that frigid bitch – my words, not his.
NNGGHH, NNGGHH, NNGGHH! He was getting closer to filling me with his sauce of love and lust. And as I came closer to my own next orgasm, la petite mort, the little death, my mind flashed back over the years that had led up to that wet and exciting sexual moment.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JEN
As soon as I was able to comprehend the concept of households having both a mother and a father, and asked why I didn't have a father, my Mom proudly explained to me that my Dad had been killed in action, serving his country. His picture was proudly displayed on our coffee table, so gallant in his full dress uniform. My heart broke every time I saw a tear forming in her eyes, which was whenever the local newspaper carried the story of another local soldier killed in action. And it was the government benefits paid to us, as his widow and child, which enabled her to support me without having any job. Mom had always refused to give me the details of Dad's death, except to say that he had been killed saving a buddy's life. And of course that made me proud too, and made me cry also.
And then one day, on my fourteenth birthday, I learned the truth. Actually, it was spread over two days, but that's neither here nor there.
We lived on the 12th floor of an up-scale high rise apartment building. My friend Lisa, a triplet with her brothers Lenny and Larry, lived on the 6th. I guess she and I could be called bosom buddies. It was a Friday. We'd had a little party with the girls from our building, plus Lisa's brothers. We had done the same thing for her fourteenth birthday just a month earlier. Skinny little Lisa had pigged out on the birthday cake. That night, I had gone down to her apartment to spend the night, something we often did, alternating apartments. Alas, something that Lisa had eaten (likely the cake) hit her the wrong way. She was throwing up and running a fever. The buiding had only one concierge on day, so Lisa's mother rode up the elevator with me, still in my pj's, watched as I went into our apartment and then went back down to Lisa.
I tiptoed into the apartment and toward my room, hoping not to wake my Mom. As I neared her room, I saw her lights were on, her door ajar and I heard voices. I assumed that she had fallen asleep watching television. Ha! You already know better than that. There was Mom, naked – jeez, she had such a beautiful body. She was kneeling in front of an equally naked man and she was sucking on his penis.
Though I had never seen that sight before, it didn't surprise me. Mom had occasionally brought men home and spent the night with them. After all, she had been a single mother for my entire life and television had given me some very detailed clues about men and women and the things they do in bed together.
Mom had by then long since given me The Talk, that clinical explanation of birds and bees and penis and vagina. When I spoke to my friends about it in school, I learned that there was more to it than Mom had told me. Specifically, she had said nothing about fucking for fun, not just to make babies. So I asked her about it. She had told me then that I was really too young for Part Two, but since I was old enough to ask, I deserved an honest explanation. As she spoke, in street language detail, my eyes felt like they were bulging out. Wow!
So I knew what they were doing, and I knew enough not to barge in on them. But I had no intention of closing my eyes to this grown-up stuff, and therefore I stood in the shadows and watched her cheeks move inward with each suck. I knew, or was pretty sure, that she would keep doing that until his penis shot his stuff into her mouth. At the same time, my hand went down between my legs. I had already learned, on my own, of the pleasurable feeling I would get in my clit, though I had not yet had the explosion of joy that Mom called an orgasm.
But while Mom was still sucking, the man pulled back, exposing his penis. I'd never seen one before and it looked huge, hard, and shiny from her saliva. I couldn't take my eyes off of it.
"On the bed, baby," he said. She hopped up as directed and lay on her back, her legs slightly spread. I glanced and saw her labia, damply shining.
"No, roll over," he said.
"You know damn well why. I'm gonna give your ass the fucking of your life."
"No way," she said.
"Yes way, bitch," he responded. "I paid for it and I'm gonna get it."
"Fuck you," she yelled. "You paid for suck and fuck only. My asshole will cost you another three hundred."
They glared at each other, it seemed like an hour, but I guess it was maybe thirty seconds. Then he shrugged, walked across the room to his pants and took out three hundred dollar bills. He held them out to her.
"Cunt!" he snarled. She took the money, reached into her night table, dropped the bills and came out with a tube of something. She handed it to him and rolled over.
I couldn't watch any more. I went to my room, closed the door and fell onto my bed, sobbing. My Mom wasn't fucking this man for pleasure, she was taking money to let him fuck her. She was nothing but a whore, a prostitute, the kind you see on television and even sometimes hear about in church. And in the ass, no less! That's where ... that's where ... Oh jeez, the very thought of it made me want to throw up. That was too much for me to watch.
Yet at the same time it was exciting, a permutation of sex that no one had ever told me about. Slowly, unconsciously, my hand crept into my pajamas. My pubic area already had some of the wispy hair, though I've still never learned what it might be useful for. And it was damp, as if I had peed myself. My fingers found my little clitoris and began to pinch, stroke, rub. Even uncovered I began to feel warm. As I rubbed, I remembered the sight of his penis in Mom's mouth and then began to imagine the sight of that same piece of meat in that unimaginable place.
The more I rubbed, the more my puss tingled. Finally, or so it felt, the tingling covered my entire body. And then something happened. It was as though I had been hit by a bolt of lightning, yet I was still alive. Ah, so that's what Mom had been talking about. I'd had my first orgasm.
It wouldn't be my last of course, not even that evening, but soon I was asleep, dreaming of nothing.
In the morning, I rubbed myself off again, and then lay quietly until I heard Mom walking around in the kitchen. Then I got out of bed, peed and went into the kitchen.
"Hi Jen. Back already?" She asked it with a smile.
"I slept up here last night, Mom. Lisa didn't feel well."
The smile left her face instantly. Her voice went flat, though when she spoke she tried to put a smile into it.
"I had a date last night. He left early,"
"I saw you last night, Mom."
She blushed a teeny bit. "Well, I guess you saw what grownups do sometimes."
"I heard the conversation where he called you a cunt and I saw him give you money."
That was when she turned beet red. She wiped away a tear from her eye and let out a deep sigh. She sat me down at the kitchen table and sat opposite me. I thought that I was going to hear Part Three of The Talk, a Part that I didn't even know existed. She sighed again, and under her breath I heard her mumble "Oh shit." She spoke hesitantly at first, and then normally.
"You remember that I told you that men and women like to have sex, have orgasms, even when they don't want to have babies. But sometimes they're not married, or they're married and the sex is not fun anymore, or they don't have regular boyfriends or girlfriends..."
Trying to be helpful, I interrupted her. "Then they masturbate?"
"Yes, sometimes, but men need to have sex more than women do, and men would rather have sex with a woman than with their own right hand."
I listened intently, having no idea where she was going. So she continued.
"But when a man has no woman available to have sex with, he finds one who will do it with him for money. It's been like that forever. That's why they call prostitution the world's oldest profession. And that's how I've been supporting you."
"Mom, why would a man pay extra to ... to..."
"Fuck?" she asked when I stammered.
" ... fuck you in the ... the ... ass?" I stammered again. She smiled now, back in control of the conversation.
"Men like a tight opening when they're trying to have an orgasm. A woman's asshole is her smallest and tightest opening. Plus it's uncomfortable, even painful for her, and it gives a man a feeling of power over her. That's why they pay top dollar for anal sex."
"But why do you need top dollar for anything? I thought that you supported me on the money the government gives you because of Daddy."
She reddened again, wept again and sighed again.
"I knew that someday I'd have to tell you, but I kept putting it off. The man in the picture isn't your Daddy; he's just a model whose picture they put into the frame to get people to buy that frame."
"Does that mean..."
She was getting used to my being unable to finish a question. "That's right. I don't know who your Daddy is."
My mind was blown and yet I wasn't surprised. Once I knew that she was a prostitute, anything was possible. Questions bounced around in my head.
"Mom, will I be a prostitute when I grow up?"
"Oh shit, Jen, I hope not. But you must never tell this to anyone in the world, not ever."
Truth be told, I wasn't so sure that she spoke honestly when she said that she didn't want me to grow up to be a prostitute, nor did I completely reject the idea of following in her footsteps.
Yet I never told that story to anyone, not ever. Except not until the moment that I posted this story. But so what? You don't know if my name is maryjane or Jen or someone named Jane Doe. Any if you happened to patronize my mother, you wouldn't know it anyway, so forget about it, OK?"
Mom leaned forward and hugged me tightly. Her bra-less breasts pressed against my chest. This was not the first time that I'd felt her breasts that way, but never before had we touched after such a frank sexual discussion. We broke the clench and stood holding each other at arm's length. Our eyes locked for what seemed to be a long time.
NINE MONTHS LATER
As I finished the last section of this story, I was toying with the idea of ending it with the story of winding up our conversation by being in bed with Mom, munching on her carpet while see did the same for my fuzzy snatch. That did happen, but not that day, and not until my fuzz had been replaced with a fine thatch of soft blond pubic hair.
Those nine months passed quickly. Mom's bedroom shelving contained many of the classic pornographic books, those used by teen and pre-teen boys and girls to assist them as masturbatory aids. She encouraged me to read them, possibly looking toward the day when we might become partners in the family business. (As I said earlier, I hadn't really believed her when she'd said that she hoped I wouldn't become a prostitute.) Mom connected with an agency and was doing mostly outcalls, which paid a shitload more money, especially for over-nighters. She had no problem with leaving me home alone by that time. Once in a while she would cut out the agency and bring some guy back to the apartment. She'd let me watch without the guy knowing it. I got used to watching her take it up the ass while I played with myself in the shadows, ultimately graduating to my hairbrush or a cucumber. Back then, for no reason that I can now articulate, I made sure that I did not let that hairbrush or cucumber break my cherry, using them on my clit more like what I know now to be a vibrator. And if Mom was the only other person in the apartment, I got into the habit of moaning whenever I made myself cum.
Sometimes a guy would stay over and meet me in the morning. Usually there was no problem but if the guy looked at me the wrong way, or said something suggestive or off color, she would silently take a sharp knife out of the drawer and put it in the middle of the kitchen table. End of discussion.
Mom always made sure not to have any johns over when it was my turn to host Lisa. If she was going out on an outcall, it was no big deal to tell Lisa that Mom had a date. After all, Mom was a single mother, as was Lisa's mother and most kids knew that their single parents dated, which included sharing a bed with someone all night.
Like all barely teen girls, Lisa and I spent a lot of time talking about boys and sex and the way our bodies were developing – height and weight, bust sizes and bras, pubic hair and masturbation. And since I knew that Mom was fucking for money several nights a week, plus weekends, my mind was always on sex.
One night, a Friday I think, Lisa and I stayed up talking, about boys as usual, until about eleven o'clock. We were talking about the creepy way our math teacher looked over the girls in the class as though he wanted to jump all of our bones. Our words drifted out slowly, then ceased. I rolled onto my side and, without thinking about it, moved my hand between my legs. I rubbed my clit slowly; the bed clothes rustled and my breath quickened. Then Lisa whispered to me.
"How often do you do that, Jen?"
There was no doubt about what she meant by the word 'what'. And I felt no embarrassment about giving her a straight answer about pleasuring myself.
"Two or three. What about you, Lisa?"
She didn't answer me. Instead she continued with another query.
"Have you ever had your pussy eaten?"
"You heard me, Jen."
I jumped off my bed and onto hers, sliding under the cover.
"Who? Who ate your pussy, Lisa? Who?"
Again she ignored my question. Instead I felt her hand reach between my legs. I stiffened and quickly relaxed. I knew that her touch had not been accidental; rather it was deliberate. I wasn't frightened, just curious. I'd touched myself that way so often lately that Lisa's fingers felt like my own. Was this the moment when I would first experience sex with another person? Who had eaten her? One of the boys at school perhaps? Not likely, for Lisa never mentioned any of them in particular. The math teacher? No, he was too yucky. But who?
She leaned forward and kissed me in the darkness. Her lips were soft, moist. I'd kissed one or two boys before, nothing special. In each case it had been a prelude to their hands reaching for my tits. In each case I had turned the hand away with a soft 'I'm not ready'. No boy had even been forward enough to push his tongue into my mouth, but that's what Lisa did. I knew that it was the signal to go further, to go beyond the kiss, but Lisa already had a hand on my damp panties. I responded in kind to her tongue, welcoming it in my mouth, giving the sign that I wanted more, that I wanted her to make me cum.
And I was ready to reciprocate. From time to time, Mom had brought home a woman, whether for fun or profit I didn't know. Hopefully for both. I had seen and heard Mom's squeals of delight as the woman ate her out. I'd never seen a man service her that way but I'd never given that a thought. From my own fingers I had come to know the sweet taste of my loins, the heady aroma of my sex. I wanted her tongue inside me and I wanted to please her in the same way.
As we kissed, I reached to my waist and began to slide off my panties, kicking them free when they got below my knees. Lisa's hands were on my tits, kneading gently, so it became my job to relieve her of her panties. As her pussy lips lost their silk barrier I inhaled her heady fragrance. I'd seen her naked many times, in bedroom and bath, in dressing rooms and locker rooms. But never had her pubes given off that wonderful aroma of girl/woman in lust.
She bent her head to nurse on my nipples. My fingers began to explore her cunt. They slid in wetly, deeply. Where had her cherry gone? Had she lost it to a carrot or to a cock? Cunt, cherry, carrot, cock; I was missing one c word. Ah yes, I found it, her clit, poking out at attention, crying damply for a mouth and tongue. And mine was the only one then available that could reach that needy organ.
It doesn't take much thinking to figure out what sixty-nine means. And I understood it immediately the first time that I had watched Mom and one of her guests from the shadows outside her room. I pushed Lisa back to a prone position, raised myself to my knees and swung one leg over her head. She immediately pulled my down by grabbing my ass cheeks and began working on me, licking my labia and sucking on my clit.
At that point, with my face poised over her pussy, my tongue was still virginal. All I wanted to do for starters was to suspend my face over her and inhale deeply the aroma of her cunt. Strangely, the smell – no, that's not right, let me say the aroma – seemed to go directly through my nose to my pussy. It bypassed my brain completely, leaving me like a grown baby, with nothing but the instinct to suck. And so I lowered my head and opened my mouth and finally found the girl thing that reminded me of a nipple. I sucked like a baby at the teat.
Lisa's thumb replaced her tongue. Once it touched my clit and my cherry simultaneously, I let go and gushed. She understood that my moan meant that I had cum, and she lifted her head off of me. I was grateful, not realizing that one day I would enjoy even more the constant orgasm after orgasm that comes when the other person doesn't stop. For her, I had to keep sucking, but when I finally got her to cum, her sound was a single little shriek, like the chirp of a bird.
I rolled off of her and we lay there silently, heads to toes, as our breathing returned to normal. Finally I spoke.
"So who ate your pussy, Lisa?"
"Two people," she said.
"Two?" My mind raced and then I guessed. "Your brothers?"
"You got it. Larry broke my cherry, shot his cum inside me and then went down on me and licked the cum out of me. After him, Lenny did the same thing ... Then I suck them both off."
"Holy shit!" That's all I could say. The enormity of her confession – if that's what you might call it – boggled my mind. Then she spoke again.
"Do you want them to do it to you? No doubt that they'd love it."
I really thought long and hard about it. I had really enjoyed being eaten, and I'd heard enough about swallowing a boy's cum that I was looking forward to doing so. But I just didn't feel ready to give up my cherry, even to Lisa's, who I liked. It wasn't that I was saving my maidenhead for that 'special' person, nor did I have any great desire to be the last virgin in my school. But sixty-nining and sucking cock would be a heavy affair for my first truly sexual adventure, and being fucked in addition was more than I could conceive – no pun intended. So that's what I said to Lisa.
"Fine," she said. "Let's go wake up my brothers."
"Hey, Lisa, what about your mother?"
"Silly, she left as soon as she said Hello to you. She has a date with her boyfriend. She won't be home until morning."
She took my hand and almost dragged me down the hall to her brothers' room. "Wake up boys; time for some fun."
"Wha?" They said it in unison, sitting up and rubbing their eyes.
"Jen's here. She wants some action. You eat her pussy, she sucks your cocks. No fucking. Who's first?"
The way we worked it out, so that neither boy had to wait and watch, I would lay on Larry's bed. He would eat me out while Lenny straddled my chest and fucked my face. After my cum, and Lenny's, they would exchange places for the same thing. Lisa would sit on Lenny's bed and play with herself, supervising her brothers like a Mother Duckling. The boys dropped their shorts and grabbed their cocks, warming up like a boxer shadow boxing around the ring.
I'd seen a bunch of naked and erect cocks before, watching Mom's customers – she called them johns – getting ready to fuck her. And I'd seen how Mom had blown them, using lips, tongue and fingers. Neither of the boys had tools anywhere near as large as the men that Mom entertained, but they were big enough and hard enough for the job at hand.
Larry knelt between my wide-spread legs and began munching just the way his sister had done, licking my slit and sucking my clit. I guess that's the way she had taught him to do it. Lenny approached me with cock dangling. He climbed onto me and reached back behind him, his hands kneading my tits and feathering my nipples. That got me hotter and wetter than even Larry's tongue. I took his cock in my hand, pulled him toward me and lifted his meat. I began to suck on his balls the way Mom did.
"Hey Lisa," Larry said, "Why don't you ever do us like Jen is doing it?"
She didn't answer. She kept fingering herself but her eyes were on my tongue and her brother's nuts, learning what he obviously enjoyed and what he expected from her in the future. She kept staring as he gasped when my middle finger drove up his asshole. Lenny saw it also because it was right in front of his face, and he began to lick me even more seriously.
I kept my fingers in Larry's ass as I ran my tongue all around the circumcised crown of his meat and then I took his entire cock into my mouth. He was so hot from my work that he shot his load after three quick sucks. I took it all without gagging. Once Lisa heard her brother's orgasmic grunt, she ran off Lenny's bed and ran to Larry's. She pulled his cock out of my mouth and bent to kiss me, her tongue invading my lips and stealing some of Larry's precious pearly gift from my mouth. When she had as much as she could, I pushed her away and took Larry into my mouth again, cleaning his tool the way I'd seen Mom do it as I spied on her from the shadows. Meanwhile Lenny kept munching. The taste of his brother's cum brought me quickly over the top.
After a ten minute silent break, the boys switched and we did it all over again. Then we slept, but not without first setting an alarm clock for five in the morning. We all woke up horny, and went to work clearing up that problem. The way we did it was for me to be on my back as Lisa ate me out. Each of her brothers fucked her doggy style. After each one dumped his sperm into her, he brought his cock to my face and my mouth cleaned it thoroughly. When both were done, I used my tongue to clean the cum out of Lisa's cunt. I still wouldn't let either boy fuck me. We then fell back asleep, Lisa in Larry's bed and me in Lenny's bed. I fell asleep with Lenny's lips sucking on my nipples.
It was close to ten when I woke to the feeling of someone sitting down on the bed in which I was sleeping. The room reeked of sex. My eyes peeped open. Holy shit, it was their mother. Her hand gently stroked my face. She was smiling.
"Did you have a nice time, Jen?"
I blushed deeply but nodded.
"You know that your Mom has to be told, don't you? Shall I tell her, or will do it?"
"I will," I whispered.
I dragged my ass upstairs, knowing that I had to tell Mom but uncertain of just how to do it. She was cleaning house, whistling as she worked.
"Hi Mom, why do you sound so happy?"
"Oh, I made a lot of money last night. Two guys wanted everything. Hell, if you had been home, we could have gotten a King's Ransom for your cherry," she said with a laugh. "And how was your evening at Lisa's?"
"Oh." I said in the same nonchalant tone as she had used, "I ate my first pussy and sucked my first two cocks."
Silence filled the room, except for the continuing tick tock of our wall-hung Regulator clock.
(AUTHOR'S NOTE: That clock had nothing to do with either story and isn't really a Grandfather's clock, but it was the inspiration for Grandfather's Cock Was Too Large For His Jock by maryjane.)
She stood frozen, like the picture on a TV screen put on Pause. Except for her eyes. They popped open in shock. They narrowed in calculation. They stared blankly at my face. They dropped to the crotch of my jeans. They closed. When she did move, it was merely her breasts moving backward as she inhaled. Finally, finally, she spoke.
"You can't believe how old you just made me feel, knowing that my little girl is old enough to do those things. Why did you tell me? Girls don't tell that to their mothers until long after it happens."
"Well, Mrs. Lee found me sleeping with Lenny in his bed. She said that she had to tell you unless I promised to do so."
"'Sleeping?', you say. Does that mean..."
"No," I interrupted. "I still have my cherry."
And suddenly I could see her eyes calculating once again. She was trying to figure out the exact dollar value of an almost fifteen year old's intact hymen. And just as suddenly, I realized why subconsciously I had chosen not to let one of Lisa's brothers fuck me.
She held out her arms to me and I moved into them for a tight hug. I felt through the halter top that she wore that her nipples were hard. She broke the clinch and took my hand, leading me toward her bedroom. There was no need for either of us to speak. We stripped quickly and by coincidence faced the mirror together. Though we had been naked in each other's presence quite often, it was the first time that I remember comparing myself to her in a 'sexual' way. I realized just how much of her good looks that I had inherited, and for that I was both thankful and arrogantly proud. My height was shorter, my breasts still smaller. But my pussy was as wet as Mom's.
We lay down under the covers, my head in the crook of her arm. And that was it – for a while. My mind was focused on the possibility, no, the probability of some wonderful cunnilingus, both ways. I hoped that her mind was too. After a while, starting to fear that I had misread her intentions, I rolled toward her, took one of her tits in hand and began to suck on a hard nipple. She held my head tighter, as she must have done when I was a baby seeking milk. Then my free hand slowly began its journey from tit to stomach and finally to wetness between her legs. She rolled me onto my back.
"Let me show you what Lisa – it was Lisa, wasn't it? – probably doesn't know yet about pleasing a woman."
"I already know, Mom."
"Oh no you don't, Jen."
Her head went under the covers, between my legs. Her hands gripped my ankles and spread them. I was left in a position that obviously prepared me to be fucked. But her hands went down and gently massaged the balls of my feet. Thank goodness that I'm not ticklish. Her lips wrapped around a pinkie toe and began to suck. After a few seconds, she moved on to the next toe, and then the one after that, etc., until she had covered all ten. By the time she had gotten to five, I was gushing like a fire hose, and screaming – albeit silently – for her mouth to make its way up to my cunt.
But she would not be rushed. Her lips moved to one ankle, inner only, and licked it clean. Then she began to nibble her way up the inside of that leg, up to the knee. She pushed that leg straight up in the air and kissed and licked behind the knee. At the same time, she used her free hand, the one not holding the leg, to run a finger up the crack of my ass. She rubbed across my asshole but made no attempt to penetrate me there. I damn near peed myself. Then it was the other leg that got the identical treatment, including the finger by the asshole. She took her head out from under the cover.
"Do you understand what I'm doing, Jen?"
"You're driving me fucking crazy, that's what you're doing, Mom."
She smiled and her head again disappeared. Her hands pushed the insides of my knees until I was spread open like a wishbone. She licked her way up each inner thigh, cleaning me like a cat washing her kitten. She stopped when she got to my pubic hair and pulled out three or four strands with her teeth. Her tongue made one slow swipe up my slit and her lips planted one soft kiss across my labia. Then she skipped over the area and put her mouth on my stomach.
"Bitch," I said. She laughed.
Mom kissed and washed my belly button and moved on to my tits. She began to nurse on me – alas, I had no milk for her – as I had done on her almost fifteen long years earlier. Enough, enough, I said to myself, gently but firmly pushing her head down between my legs. She took the hint and began to suck firmly on my clit. She alternated among kissing, licking and sucking, moving from one to the other just as I was ready to cum.
"Bitch," I said again. She laughed again and then brought me to a screaming orgasm by concentrating on my clit.
"That's the way to do it, Jen. And it's just about the same when you suck a cock."
"With obvious differences," I said.
"Obviously," she agreed. "Now you do me."
And I did, with pleasure, a complete repeat of what she had done for me, with all those little nuances.
"Mom, I'm ready. I want to work with you," I said. "I really do."
"That too was obvious. But are you ready to let some stranger pop your cherry?"
"Yes," I said, but the thought of the actuality frightened me a bit.
Her hand went down between my legs. Her fingers stopped when they reconfirmed what her tongue had told her, the existence of my maidenhead. Ooh, isn't that a weird word?
"Just checking," she said. "I want to make sure that we can deliver what we sell."
We lay there silently, bodies intertwined, sweaty skin sticking to sweaty skin, both of us thinking, from one point of view or the other, about the details of some upcoming transaction, the once in a lifetime sale of a strategically located membrane. Its existence to me was but a minor nuisance. It would disappear with a more or less quick but sharp pain and then rapidly fade into fond memory. But to some small portion of the male sex, the privilege of removing that membrane, especially from the cunt of a girl not even a third of the way through her teens, was a treasure worth an excessive number of dollars – or pounds or Euros or rubles or yen (yen for Jen?) or whatever, for those sick fucks are found all over the world.
It was funny to imagine how much the value of a visit between my labia and into my vagina would drop the moment after I lost my cherry, and even more when I finally reached the legal age of consent. But such is the unfathomable psyche of the male. I'd read that there are ways to fake the continued existence of a hymen, but I didn't know how effective they might be. Nor what the cost would be of surgical restoration compared to the potential financial gain. Possibly that was one of the questions then going through Mom's mind. I knew that I'd have no compunctions about having it done. Shit, if a guy wants to break a fourteen year old cherry, he deserves to be cheated.
Mom rolled away from me and, on her stomach, reached for her phone. Jeez, did she have one fucking gorgeous ass! I bent to kiss those globes, thinking as I did so that we could probably make good money putting on shows for men who like girl on girl sex.
"Hi Ted ... Yes, it's me ... Fine. And you? ... Remember what you said when you saw my daughter Jen's picture? ... Yes ... I didn't tell you who she was? ... Bullshit ... Fourteen ... Damn right she's cherry ... Whoa, Ted baby, we have to talk money."
She threw out a number at him that made my jaw drop. She smiled and nodded as she listened.
"No, it's not negotiable ... She's pure cherry ... No, you know asshole is never included. We're going to offer that separately ... Eight o'clock tonight is fine ... See you then, Ted baby."
She hung up the phone. "Let's go, Jen. Put some clothes on."
"Where are we going, Mom?"
"To the mall, silly. We have to get you some 'fuck me' outfits. We're not some fast food joint. You have to dress for success."
LEARNING THE TRADE
The mall was crowded, as it always is. No matter what time of day or what day of the week, people are there looking for presents for other people, for clothing for themselves to look better for the other sex, trolling to pick up boys or girls to hang with or to date or to fuck, to shoplift – you know, for all different reasons. We were interested in three particular stores, the ultra expensive women's clothing store, the big famous one with all the sexy clothing, and the smaller less popular store (outside the mall) specializing in the real wild stuff (and toys) that most mothers won't let their daughters wear or even own.
The expensive store didn't take long, though we bought a ton of grown up clothing, real nice stuff, go to church stuff, some things to wear for dinner at an upscale restaurant. Shoes, little black dresses as well as others, the whole works. When I asked Mom why were buying all of those things, so told me that sometimes we would have to leave the apartment to meet a man at his hotel, etc., and maybe even spend some time in public with him. I would need those things even though that night would be spent at home with the purchaser of my virginity. The speed was acceptable because that store will accept returns of almost anything.
The sexy place, obviously, was where we bought things that were simply intended to be sexy, to get or more likely to keep a man hard. These were peignoirs; push up bras, lace panties, stiletto heels, nightgowns for all-nighters and the like. The selection wasn't as wide as we would have liked, because they were mostly designed for women more mature than I was. These were the sorts of things that I would be wearing when a man came to the apartment, such as we planned for that night, when he first sees me. We hadn't yet decided if Mom or I should answer the doorbell.
The other place, a free standing building in a crummy area, was where we dressed me for that special man, the type of guy who wanted crotch-less panties, bras with the nipple area cut out, garter belts with matching black mesh stockings, four inch stilletos. And of course strap-on cocks for the man or woman who was into that sort of thing. As a 'graduation' gift for me, Mom bought two vibrators, for shows that some might like and to get myself off when I was alone.
We ate an early dinner, at six o'clock. Mom gave me one single glass of white wine, enough to give a fourteen year old girl a nice warm feeling but not enough to get me stinking drunk. She also limited herself to one glass, not knowing if Ted would be interested in a threesome or in case she had to get into a drinking party with him.
"Let's change now, Jen. We want to be ready when he shows up."
"What's rush, Mom? We have plenty of time."
"Silly girl. He's coming over to pop some young cherry. I have no doubt that he'll be early. And besides, you need to practice wearing four inch heels."