tagErotic CouplingsIn My Daughters Bed

In My Daughters Bed


The first time I met my daughters boyfriend, I knew she was in trouble. He was the type of man that my ass would have been sneaking in regularly when I was her age.

She had brought tall and handsome home before. But she had never brought it as fine as this young brother. She introduced him as Denard, the 18-year-old stud basketball star at her high school.

I introduced myself as the mom, and Denard joked that I looked like the sister. It wasn't that farfetched of a thought. I gave birth to my daughter Andrea when I was only 20. I'm still a few years shy of 40 now, but I think I look better than I ever have. We often go shopping together and pass for sisters.

Unlike my female friends, I haven't had any work done to keep myself looking 28 year after year. The closest I came was to getting a boob job, but my husband ended up talking me out of it.

He's 10 years older than me and old school to a fault. He drives an old school Caddy, while wearing old school slacks and shoes, while listening to cassette tapes of old school blues singers.

His idea of sex is about as archaic. It took years for me to convince him to try something other than routine 3 minutes missionary, 3 minutes doggystyle. And even then, I had only succeeded in convincing him to eat my pussy. He wasn't fond of getting his dick sucked, so the trade off was never an incentive. He went down on me on the 'special occasion' that was our anniversary.

I had married him right out of high school, with my mothers strong blessing. She loved that he had a good job and wanted to take care of me. I guess that's what she thought was what would keep us together.

Back to the pussy eating.

I can tell he didn't like it much. Or maybe he didn't dislike it. He was just apathetic to the entire experience. He didn't feel comfortable trying anything new. When it came to other freaky things? Like making a sex tape, or introducing toys, whips, or anal into our bedroom, I might as well have been telling him I was into scat (shitting on people). The look on his face told the story. He didn't want any kind of out of the ordinary sex, and when we did have sex, it would only be a few nights a week. As he has gotten older, it's turned into maybe a few times a month.

I didn't let his lack of libido stop me from getting mine. I went to pleasure parties with my home-girls. I hid away several dildos and vibrators. I read erotica and watched porn, and even got off to some fun and anonymous sex chat rooms. I had a few regulars that I played with on webcam, while we talked about the dirty things we would do to each other, things that would never actually happen.

Between playing cooperate baby sitter at my job and taking care of my 3 kids, I needed some kind of sexual relief to keep me sane. That relief certainly wasn't coming from the hubby.

All in all, he wasn't a bad husband. Just boring. And he was being his usual self when our 18-year-old daughter Andrea begged us to go to a party that didn't start until 1 a.m.

"Andrea, no. You cannot go. End of story."

"Dad, I'm a senior. I graduate next month. I'm 18. I have my own car. I'm an adult now. Why can't I go?"

"Because you're not an adult. You're still a child. And as long as are living in a house I pay for, then you will do exactly as I say."

Secretly, I was almost on my daughters side. I remembered what it felt to be 18, and about to go away to college. I remember the parties. I remembered the drinking and drugs. I had my good share of fun before I had settled down with my husband. But I still felt I had settled down too soon. I didn't want my kids to miss out on the youth of their lives.

Still, I supported the man of the house in his decision, even when Andrea tried to appeal to the mother that looked like she could be a sister.

"Mom, all of my friends are going to be there. Denard is going to be there. I already told him-"

Boring dad shot down whatever she had to say before she said it. "I don't give a darn what you told him, Andrea. You are not going."

I gave Andrea the 'I feel your pain, but can't help you with it' look, and walked into the bedroom. It was 10pm on a Friday Night. Andrea's curfew was at 1am. She had never broken curfew before. She was a good student. Hadn't she earned a little bit of fun?

According to her father, no. He saw her like he saw me when I was her age; as a virgin that didn't need to be in any tempting situations. Little did he know, I wasn't a virgin when I met him. I had a suspicion that Andrea was fucking too. How could she not be?

Her boyfriend Denard was temptation in the flesh. A dark chiseled body. Lips that begged for attention. And a voice that sounded like it belonged on late night radio, where songs about hot sex are played over and over again. He was Morris Chestnut, Omar Epps, Tyreese Gibson, and Mekhi Phifer, blended together to form a black woman's Kryptonite. Him being 18 was his only turn off. A turn off I turned to every time he came around.

He would come around a few times a week to pick Andrea up for a date. He'd have her back by 12:55. She'd walk through the doors smiling, but looking drained. I knew the glow of post-sex bliss. She couldn't hide it from me, even if she could keep it from her old school ass daddy.

When we went to bed after shutting down Andrea's hope, I could sense attitude from him. He had a feeling she was going to disobey him. Maybe he felt intimidated by Denard. Maybe he knew, like I did, that whenever a fine specimen like Denard came around a woman, there would be trouble. He woke himself (and me) up a little past 1am and all hell broke loose when he discovered she wasn't in her bed.

He ended up sounding like James Earl Jones from Lion King. "She deliberately, disobeyed me," he growled.

Oh he was mad. I tried to sound just as mad as he was, but that was impossible. "I can't believe she had the nerve to go without our permission," I said trying to match him in aggression. He drowned out that shit with a grunt, and "Wait till' this child comes home."

Seeing him become so animated was amusing to me. I wished he could have been that emotional and aggressive in the bedroom. He ended up waking our 16-year-old daughter. "Where is Andrea?"

She wiped her eyes and pretending that she hadn't heard the commotion. That's when I knew she was covering for her sister. "I..I dunno."

"Where is this party? I know you know," he shot.

"You planning to go to this party to get her?" I asked, hoping to God that wasn't his plan.

He eyed me harshly. "If she don't bring her ass home in the next 5 minutes. I am going to drag her home."

He started dialing her number, but then put the phone down. Seems he didn't want to alert her that she was busted. His eyes were red. He was huffing and puffing. He looked like he was doing an impression of the Chicago Bull logo. It was well past his bedtime. He was usually in bed by 10. I knew Andrea was going to be toast when she did come home from her defiant night of sex, drugs, and hip hop.

"I'm calling the police," my husband shot.

"No you are not," I challenged him. "C'mon. We know she's at that party. She's 18 for God's Sake. Punish her when she gets home. Don't embarrass her in front of her peers."

He looked at our 16-year-old and ignored me. "If I find out you knew anything about this at all. It's your ass too."

He walked out of the room. I looked at my daughter. She continued holding the water for her sister. I guess with hopes that her sister could help her out when the time came for creeping out. I liked that they at least stood by each other, even if it meant both of them getting in trouble.

I shrugged, shook my head, and followed the firecracker into the hallway.

Our 13-year-old-son had awaken and was peaking his head through the door, being nosy as usual

"Wha happened? Andrea gone?" he inquired.

"Go to bed," I told him.

"Ooooo. Andrea gon get in trouuuuble," he sang as he closed his door.

I followed my husband to Andrea's bedroom. He had flopped down on her waterbed, determined to wait her out. I sat with him, and attempted to calm his nerves.

"You know. When I was her age, I prolly would have disobeyed my parents to go to a party with you."

No response from him.

"How about we go back to the bedroom, and you discipline my pussy?"

Not one inch of reaction. He never seemed to get turned on by dirty talk. It was too vulgar, I guess. Too bad, because my dirty talk had been taken to another level during my time of cyber sexin. Kinda fucked up that he wasn't privy to how freaky I could get.

I grabbed his hand. I knew which spot to hit. "At least she went to the party with a strong, masculine guy like Denard. He sure looks like he'd protect her from any scumbags."

I finally got a response. He clenched his teeth. I struggled not to laugh.

Her bedroom window had a ladder that stretched down to the grass. She added it after years of watching Joey stumble in and out of Dawson's room on that teen drama TV series. It was how she chose to go and come. Her car was still outside, so obviously someone (my money on Denard) had picked her up and would be bringing her home.

We ended up sitting on her bed in the dark for half an hour before the situation started to annoy me. This was silly.

"What are we accomplishing by doing this?"

"That child needs the fear of God put back into her. She has never done anything like this before. And after tonight, she never will."

"She never will because she'll be moving out in a few months. This is her last month of really being a child in our home. What could you possibly do to put fear in her now? She's not a baby anymore."

Even in the dark, I could see sweat dripping down his face, as if his blood was literally boiling.

"She thinks she can just do whatever she wants," he said aloud to himself more than me. He grunted. "Over my dead body. See back in my day, kids were kids and parents was parents. Kids had respect for they parents. If dad say no, then it meant no. If dad say don't go, you stayed yo ass home."

I listened to his diatribe about the Golden Days of parenting, where the parent handbook came with an extension chord and switch. It seemed like he was getting steam out by talking about the discipline as it should be handled. He ranted for awhile, I told him I agreed, and moments later I heard him snoring, still in the sitting position. I nudged him and he woke up abruptly. "You tired?"

He shook his head. "No. Uh. Uh-I-wah. I-was thinking." He was so out of it.

"Go to bed. I'll stay here and wait for her."

He tried to protest but his body was leading the way. He went to our bedroom to sleep and I kicked my feet up. It was past 2 and I only saw two possible scenarios. Scenario one was Andrea getting a text from her sister letting her know we knew she was out, and Andrea coming home as soon as possible.

The other was Andrea deciding to stay out all night since she was already in trouble. I hoped for the first, but prepared for the latter. I laid down in the bed and turned on the TV. My housecoat hid my bra and panties. I felt arousal surging through me. Partially out of boredom. But more-so from the youthful danger that was in the air. Defiance. Disobedience. Doing-what-the-FUCK-you-want-to-do.

I wanted to masturbate right then and there on my daughters bed. I wanted to imagine being her. 18, with my whole life ahead of me, while an object of youthful lust fucks me with the energy that Viagra couldn't provide.

It was something so sexy about sneaking and creeping despite the consequences. It was a big reason why I got so excited when I played with my pussy on web cams. I knew it was wrong. But the pleasure was devilish. Since I never showed my face on cam and never gave any real info like name or where I lived, I felt as if it wasn't really cheating. I didn't think that I actually had it in me to cheat. But I sure did fantasize about it on the daily as I masturbated with the assortment of toys I had collected over the years of boring, sometimes sexless marriage.

I was close to spreading my legs and quickly getting myself off but didn't out of fear of being caught. What if my husband were to walk in to check on me while I rubbed one out? What if my daughter came through the window? What if my nosy ass son decided to....be nosy.

I allowed my hands to slide inside of my bra to feel my hard nipples. Pinching them was as far as I let my self pleasure go. I was horny and desired to step on the dangerous side. But I was far too nervous to be able to enjoy it. I thought about going into the bathroom to handle my arousal, but hiding my orgasm behind that door didn't seem as exciting as doing it behind this door. It didn't even seem worth the effort.

I squeezed my legs together and looked at the prom picture of Denard and Andrea. She had on a tight, sleeveless red dress that I helped her pick out. He had on a black tux. They made the cutest couple, even though he didn't smile in the picture. He didn't like to smile in any of his pictures.

"Come on Denard. Smile," I had said as they held each other and I put the digital camera to my eye. She smiled, but he kept his face all serious. I guess that was just his style.

"Well can you at least say cheese for this one? Trying to get at least one photo of you with a facial expression."

He nodded his head and held my daughter closer.

"One. Two. Three. Say cheeeeese," I excitedly announced. They said cheese, but he still managed to hold down any hint of expression. I gave up and called it a night.

They went off to Prom. He had her back by 2, which her daddy allowed for the 'special occasion'.

Staring at the photo of them, the 'say cheese shot' made me feel funny. I hated the feeling. As if she had something that I would never be able to get back. "Lucky girl," I said aloud before closing my eyes and drifting off.

I couldn't have been out that look when I heard soft calls for my daughter. "Andrea. Andrea. Andrea," the voice gently called. It was coming from her window. It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize who the voice was coming from. I wondered why he was calling for Andrea. I had assumed she was with him.

I turned toward the window, initially intending to get up but I froze. I heard footsteps walking up the ladder. I heard my heart thump against my chest.

In maybe the most irrational moment of my life, I turned back on my side to face the wall and let my housecoat sit open the way it had been. I closed my eyes tight and then relaxed them so that I could pretend to be asleep. I was nervous as all hell, but my body tingled with excitement.

When he reached the top of her window, I thought strongly about ending my little act before it even started. What the hell was I doing? My cleavage was half exposed, and my legs were on full display. I wasn't sure if my butt was covered by my coat because of the way my body was positioned on my side.

I felt such a contrast of extremes. Wanting to cover myself and chide his young ass for coming up to Andrea's room. But then wanting to be devoured by his young eyes while I pretended to be Andrea. Though my body lay limp as I breathed in slowly, giving a brilliant acting performance, my mind was racing a mile a minute. I felt more sexually alive as I heard footsteps walking toward the bed than I had the past 10 years in my husbands bedroom.

"Andrea," he whispered again. I continued laying prone. I threw in a fake snore for my Academy Award deserving performance.

Eventually the soft footsteps stopped. I could hear him breathing above me. I could feel him staring down at me. Suddenly, I didn't feel like my acting was going all that well. I felt as if he knew I was faking. He knew it was Andrea's mom acting a fool laying there half nude for him to see. And God, here he was, seeing the naked truth.

"Andrea, wake up."

I didn't even know what to do at that point. But Denard didn't give me much of a chance to after that final call for Andrea. The first strange noise I heard was the sound of a cha-ching on her nightstand. It sounded as if he had placed a large piece of jewelry, a gold chain or something, on the stand. Then I heard the smooth ruffle of clothing being pulled. It was starting to become clear.

When I heard his zipper pull down, that's when I started to panic internally. Denard was getting undressed. He thought I was Andrea. He thought he was about to fuck her. Instead, he was about to fuck me.

Fuck me. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck. ME.

The fucks flew around my head as my breathing somehow remained calm. It's not as if there wasn't a way out. There was a very simple, easy, solution to my problem. Stop pretending. Curse him out. Kick him out. It wasn't that hard.

But man, was it so hard. The truth was, Denard had been apart of my fantasies ever since Andrea introduced him. The first time he shook my hand, I thought he held the embrace a little longer than was necessary as he looked into my eyes. I could have sworn he was making a pass at me with his eyesight alone. But I shook it off. There was no way I could be seduced by my daughters boyfriend. No way in hell.

I felt as if I was going to hell as I heard his clothes continue to softly land against the floor, and I did nothing. Actually, it took a lot to do nothing. It took me reaching deep into my closet of hidden desires and pulling out the hanger that hung my regrets. Yes, laying there was work. Waiting for him to climb his naked ass into bed with me was an emotionally arduous task.

And then it happened. His finger tips brushed up against my ass. It confirmed that my housecoat wasn't covering it up. The fact that he had been looking at me in my panties excited me even more. I pretended to stir in my sleep. I wasn't going to stop pretending until I was forced to break it up. I had plausible deniability on my side, and as long as I could blame whatever happened on me being unaware, I was winning.

His hands began kneading my ass cheek intensely. His index finger dipped into my crack, though my panties still acted as a shield between Denard and my bare skin. Me and my daughter both had shapely figures. My big butt could have been her big butt. I was sure he hadn't figured out that I wasn't who he thought I was yet.

I wasn't prepared at all for what happened next. It wasn't as if I could have been prepared for any of what was happening, but my mind had at least attempted to predict the chain of events. Maybe he would kiss me. Or rub my breast. Or maybe attempt to straddle me.

I just wasn't expecting, or even secretly hoping that he would slide his hand underneath my panties, softly spread my cheeks then stick his index straight into my asshole. No more acting. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Fuck," I barked. I turned quickly and our eyes connected instantly. He saw who I really was. The violation became immediately clear.

"Fuck," he echoed.

"What. The fuck." I pulled my housecoat over me. "What are you doing?"

I looked down and saw his erection, far stronger than I ever could have imagined. Just like our first hand shake, the connection lasted a bit longer than it should have.

"Shit. My bad. I thought you were Andrea."

"Do I look like Andrea?" I shot as I stood up.

He stood up naked and towering. He didn't cover his penis. He just stared at me. It was intimidating. "She looks alot like you," he said before he tried to sniff his finger on the low.

I was wrapped up in his nakedness but offended by his crudeness. "Cover yourself," I barked, dismayed at the distraction of his thick ass dick. He used both hands. He needed both hands.

"Where is Andrea?" I asked.

"I don't know. I thought she was here."

"She went to that party. The one she told you about."

He looked confused. "What party?"

"The..the one she told you," I paused.

He walked closer to me. "Andrea didn't tell me about any party."

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bySomeGuyNamedKevin© 5 comments/ 82559 views/ 23 favorites

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