Jennie was a brat; an eighteen year old well developed brat, but a brat nonetheless. She didn't really mean to be a brat, but she really disliked being told what to do. She especially disliked being told what to do by her mother's boyfriend. He really was a nice guy who had inherited her as a dependent by virtue of being with her mother. He just had different ideas on raising kids, especially a teen daughter, than her mother did.
As far as Jennie could tell, her mother's idea of raising kids was to just let them do whatever they wanted to do so long as it didn't interfere with her doing whatever she wanted to do, which was to go to bingo a lot and avoid making any decisions. Mike's ideas on raising kids seemed to include a lot of curfews, rules and disapproving of the friends Jennie chose to hang out with. Jennie knew he meant well but she had a wild streak in her that probably came from her mother. So overall, although she liked him most of the time, she didn't like him much when he laid on the discipline.
His discipline usually involved sending her to her room and not allowing her to go out, although once he completely lost his temper, threw her over his knee and gave her three quick slaps across her bum. Although she was wearing jeans at the time, it stung like the dickens and once, after smoking some pot she and her friends managed to buy, she had imagined Mike spanking her in her school uniform skirt. In her fantasy her skirt had ridden up until her white panties were exposed and her bum had jiggled and wiggled as he spanked her. In her fantasy Mike hadn't stopped at three spanks either. He had given her ten or more good solid smacks and when he was done he had rubbed her bum gently with his open palm over her panties. He had rubbed her as he explained to her in gentle tones how he hated having to punish her like this and how he never wanted to do it again.
Jennie had shaken herself out of that fantasy completely taken aback at the vividness of it. What surprised her most was how wet she was from the fantasy. Her panties were completely soaked and she thanked God that she was wearing jeans that night; otherwise her friends might have caught the aroma of her wet pussy emanating from beneath her skirt. Jennie thought she could smell it herself, but being high, she wasn't really sure. Luckily her friends never noticed it; at least they never said anything about it.
One thing that had changed after having that fantasy was that, although she had grown used to wearing a pair of athletic shorts over her panties and under her uniform skirt, she had begun wearing just the panties under her skirt, the way most of her friends did. In fact, the next time she went shopping for underwear, her selections had been more brief than anything she had worn before that time. She reconciled the change in style as part of growing up. Gone were the conservative white cotton panties; now she frequently wore smaller French-cut panties and even a thong or two from time to time, although she did wear the white cotton panties on occasion.
The school uniform certainly flattered Jennie. She was about five foot four and had been blessed with a petite frame. Her breasts were small, a 34 B-cup but were topped with small bright red nipples that reminded her of strawberries when they were hard.
Jennie never liked her own body very much. She wasn't as thin as her friend Cathy. Cathy weighed just over 90 lbs and could fit into clothes that Jennie could only dream of. Cathy's body was as slim as slim could get. Her figure reminded Jennie of many of the singers and actors she saw on TV all the time. They were all so thin and she often dreamed she could be as thin as they were.
When Jennie looked at her own tits, she told herself that her friend Melanie had much bigger tits. Melanie's chest at 36C was massive compared to just about every other girl in their school. She was even bigger than some of the teachers. Melanie's figure too was much more curvy than Jennie's. Jennie had watched Melanie from behind once while she was walking away and was amazed at the wiggle she produced. Jennie had tried to catch glimpses of herself walking from behind at times but that was virtually impossible. She was much too shy about it to ask any of her friends whether she wiggled when she walked or not. She reasoned then that her wiggle couldn't possibly be as good as Melanie's.
The only section of her own body that Jennie thought was better than any of her friends' was her bum. Round and firm, she thought it looked good regardless of which panties she wore or whether she was wearing jeans or a skirt. She frequently admired it in the mirror after a shower, though sometimes when she did, thoughts of Mike's hand slapping her there drifted into her mind. Each time that happened she would push those thoughts out of her head with a force of will. She also told herself those thoughts made her angry.
That's what she told herself, even though her pussy usually became wet when she thought about that incident; especially the part where he rubbed his hand gently over her white cotton panties. Sometimes she remembered him rubbing over her panties as part of what had really happened and had to mentally correct herself each time.
When she got high it was virtually impossible to separate the events in her fantasy from the events of the actual spanking. Her mental state would drift wildly from intense anger at Mike to an indescribable sense of pleasure as she imagined his hand sliding gently over her bum. For this reason, when she knew she and her friends were going to get high, she always wore jeans, just to make sure that her excitement would not become apparent to any of her friends.
Mike didn't think too much about Jennie, although he had noticed when she brought home the French-cut panties from the store. He couldn't help but notice because she had showed them to her mother when she got home. Jennie had been extremely pleased with her purchase but her mother just grunted something unintelligible when Jennie showed her the new lingerie. Mike had seen the incident from the other room and felt sorry for Jennie upon seeing Debbie's unemotional response.
He had moved in with Debbie against his own better judgment five years ago just after he had turned thirty and he had mostly regretted it ever since. Debbie was not a very good girlfriend. She nagged most of the time and she slept on the couch three or more nights a week, so it was pretty obvious what her thoughts on sex with Mike were. Recently she had taken to going to bingo; a lot! She went at least four or five times a week. When she did go, she would stay all night. The first session was at 7:30. The next was at 10:00. The final session started at 1 am and didn't finish until after 3. Consequently Mike stayed home alone a lot.
Mike didn't mind being alone. He certainly enjoyed it more than he enjoyed being with Debbie. In some ways, he enjoyed being with Jennie more so than with Debbie. Even though Jennie was a brat, she was a nice girl with an infectious laugh and a big smile that made most people smile back; at least when she wasn't being a brat.
This night, Mike was alone and watching TV, Debbie had gone out about five minutes after he had gotten home and Jennie had not been home when he got there. It was Friday night and finally after 11:00 he felt like getting a little high. Neither Debbie nor Jennie knew about his stash in the back of the freezer, which was just the way he liked it. Knowing Debbie as he did, he thought she would forbid him from smoking pot in the house, not because she didn't want Jennie to see it, but just because it would be just one more joy in life that she could deny him.
He had just finished packing a small amount of pot into his pipe and was holding a lighter to it when Jennie walked in the door. As was her habit, she was moving single-mindedly toward her bedroom through the kitchen. She moved very quickly and there was very little time between her opening the front door until she was breezing through the kitchen doorway. This time she glanced quickly at Mike sitting at the table as she passed by, fully intent on spending as little time talking to him as possible. She stopped dead in her tracks and stared at him with wide eyes as he inhaled on the pipe.
Mike, knowing she had caught him in the act, didn't bother trying to hide what he was doing or pretending it was something other than what it was.
'Hey.' he said with a nod.
Jennie's mouth opened in shock and she put her hand over it as her eyes grew wider.
'How's it going?' Mike said casually.
'Oh my God!' she said in an awed tone.
Mike frowned and sighed heavily. 'It's not the end of the world you know. It's just pot.'
'Oh my God!' she repeated.
'Oh get over it would you!' Mike said with a laugh. 'So it's pot. Did you think you and your friends were the only ones who'd ever done this?'
Again Jennie was shocked. She had been so careful to make sure that her parents knew nothing about her pot smoking.
'What do you mean?' she said, trying herself to be casual.
Mike laughed again and put the pipe on the table in front of him.
'Come on,' he said. 'Did you really think I didn't know about it?'
Jennie blushed and tried to protest her innocence one more time. Mike's laugh irritated her and she ground her teeth in frustration.
'Come on,' he said, still laughing. 'Forget about it and have a seat.'
Thinking she was in trouble, she sat at the table with a grunt and crossed her arms over her chest. At the same time she put her lip out, pouting furiously. She was in no mood for one of Mike's lectures and she was determined to act the brat to the limit.
'Oh stop pouting!' he said with a grin. 'If you don't stop pouting, I won't give you any of this.' he said, pointing at the pipe full of weed in front of him.
For the third time in as many minutes, Jennie was shocked. Her petulant expression morphed instantly into wide-eyed surprise.
'What!' she asked in disbelief.
'That's better,' he said. 'At least it's better than pouting. Now do you think you can close your mouth and make your eyes a little smaller than dinner plates?'
Jennie immediately closed her mouth, not realizing that it had been opened at all. She looked at Mike in confusion and then at the pipe he had now picked up and put to his lips. She watched as he lit the pipe and then inhaled deeply. He closed his eyes and held his breath for a moment and then exhaled with a happy expression on his face. He sat back absorbing the feeling and then opened his eyes and grinned at her once more. He held the pipe out to her and she took it in her hand feeling uncertain.
'Okay, your turn,' he said. 'Just don't tell your mother for God's sake! If you tell her she'll make both our lives a living hell, not that it's that far off now.'
She opened her mouth in shock once more and then laughed. She had often suspected that Mike wasn't very happy with her mother. Now she knew he wasn't and the knowledge made her feel like they had shared something important.
'Okay,' she said. 'I promise not to tell her.'
She put the pipe to her lips and sucked on it but got almost no smoke out of it. She looked at it in confusion and sucked even harder; still she got no smoke from it. Again she looked at it, puzzled. She and her friends had always rolled their pot into joints and she had never used a pipe before.
Mike held the lighter to the bowl of the pipe and lit it.
'Try it now,' he said. 'You have to light it with almost every haul.'
She nodded slightly and inhaled sharply. Almost immediately her face turned red and her eyes watered as she gasped. She coughed heavily and her throat felt like it had been set on fire. Mike patted her on the back lightly and got some water from the sink. He rubbed her back gently and held the water out to her. She took it and gulped almost half the glass down to soothe her throat.
'Oh my God!' she gasped. 'How can you do that? That's awful!'
She continued to cough and hack and Mike refilled her water glass three times before her throat stopped burning.
Mike continued to rub her back and she finally stopped sputtering. She smiled at him, grateful that he hadn't laughed at her, although he was grinning at her inexperience with smoking from a pipe. His hand was big and comforting as it passed over her back and she had an odd sense of camaraderie with him at this moment.
'Feeling better?' he asked.
She nodded and smiled again and picked up the pipe from the table.
'Can I try this again?' she asked.
He smiled and held the lighter to the bowl of the pipe once more.
'Now this time breathe in slowly,' he said. 'If you take it in slowly, you can tell how hot the smoke is and inhale only as much of it as your throat can handle.'
She took it in, her throat still burning slightly, but was able to take a good deal of the smoke into her lungs. She handed the pipe back to Mike and he took his turn. Together they finished off all the pot in the bowl and then sat back contentedly. They were both staring into space and grinning and then Mike stood up.
'Okay, I'm going to change into my pajamas.' He said. 'And I suggest you do the same young lady. Smoking from a bowl is much more potent than smoking from a joint and you probably won't feel much like changing clothes before bed if you put it off too long.'
Jennie grinned stupidly and giggled.
'Stop telling me what to do!' she said. 'I'm eighteen now and you can't tell me what to do anymore.'
Mike shrugged and smiled.
'Suit yourself,' he said. 'You'll hate yourself in the morning though when you wake up in your nice clothes.'
Jennie looked down at her clothes and realized she was wearing her brand new silk blouse. Also she was wearing her new jeans for the very first time and they were perfect just the way they were. Mike was absolutely right that she wouldn't want to sleep in these clothes and she muttered angrily to herself.
'Okay fine!' she snapped at him.
Mike grinned again and wandered away to change.
By the time he came back down stairs Jennie was sitting on the couch watching TV. He smiled to himself when he saw that she had indeed changed. She was now wearing an oversized T-shirt that was pulled half-way down her thighs. He vaguely wondered to himself whether she was wearing the white cotton panties she had grown up with or if it was one of the sexier French-cut panties she had bought recently.
He sat down on the opposite end of the couch from her and asked her what she was watching.
'I don't know,' she said, 'some movie.'
Mike shrugged and turned his attention to the TV too, although he couldn't get his mind off of Jennie's panties. For some inexplicable reason, he just had to know which panties they were. He knew it was the pot at work. It had a way of affecting you. If there was something minor on your mind, the pot had a way of making it into an obsession. Questions that you could normally shove aside as irrelevant became matters of the utmost importance; the irony being that once you found out the answer, you frequently dismissed it as irrelevant a few minutes later and then promptly forgot about it.
For her part, Jennie had gone to her room and removed her blouse, carefully hanging it in the closet. She then removed her jeans and hung those up with equal care. She then removed her bra and pulled her oversized T-shirt on. She stood in front of her full-length mirror and held the shirt up over her tummy to study the thong she had worn under her new jeans. She wondered whether she should leave the thong on and turned in the mirror to study the reflection of her bum. Although she liked the way the thong accented her bum with the cheeks completely exposed, her mind wandered to the spanking that Mike had given her just two years before. Once again she thought of his big gentle hand rubbing over her white cotton panties, just as he had rubbed her back when she choked on the pot a few minutes before. For reasons she couldn't explain, she removed the thong and drew a pair of white cotton panties from her drawer and pulled them on. They were clean and smelled fresh. The feeling of warmth and comfort they provided was almost surreal. She imagined Mike's big hand rubbing across her bum and she felt the goose pimples creep over her entire body. She shook off the feeling and then, wearing just the T-shirt and the white cotton panties she went to the living room and turned on the TV.
As they watched TV, both their minds wandering erratically, they kept sneaking glances at each other. Mike kept looking at her legs wondering if she might shift her position so he could at least get a glimpse of her panties; then he could settle the question in his mind once and for all. Jennie kept taking furtive glances at Mike's hands, imagining them rubbing across her bum. The more she thought about it the more jumpy she became, unconsciously moving her bum back and forth into the couch. When the tension became unbearable, she shifted her position, much to Mike's delight, bringing her knees toward her chest and turning slightly away from him so she could lean against the arm of the couch.
Mike was now staring at her bum intently, trying unsuccessfully to see beneath her T-shirt. Although her new position had pulled her shirt up toward her bum, it had not risen high enough for him to glimpse her panties. As he stared he suddenly realized that he had a hard-on. It was well hidden beneath his bath robe and his pajama bottoms but it was definitely there. He came to the conclusion that, between the pot and thinking too much about Jennie's panties, his cock, his recently neglected cock, had responded with an erection that wasn't going to go away until it was dealt with. He decided then and there that he was going to have to jerk off in bed later on, because he certainly wasn't going to be able to sleep like this no matter how high he was.
On a whim he stood up and began walking toward the kitchen. He stopped suddenly and turned toward Jennie.
'Do you want some more pot?' he asked.
She looked up, not understanding the question at first, and then grinned widely.
'Yeah!' she said happily. 'Good idea!'
Mike smiled and got the pipe and the baggie of weed. He returned to the couch and packed a small amount lightly into the bowl. He lit it up and then lay back with his lungs full of smoke. Jennie took the pipe from his hand and then she too laid back. They exhaled the smoke slowly and grinned at each other. After the pipe was done Mike returned the pipe and baggie to their hiding places and then slouched on the couch beside Jennie.
'You know what?' he asked in a serious voice.
'What?' she replied with an equally serious tone
'I need to know something,' he said.
'What?' she said. The pot was having its effect on her too. Being as high as she was, she wanted nothing more than to help.
'I need to know which panties you're wearing,' he said. 'It's been bugging me since I sat down. Is it the plain cotton ones or the French ones?'
Jennie grinned and grabbed the bottom hem of her shirt. She picked it up as far as her tummy to show him her white cotton panties, feeling absurdly happy that she could answer his question.
Mike looked at the panties and nodded sagely. He studied them for a moment and then sat back.
'You know,' he said. 'I think those white cotton panties suit you; much more so than those French-cut panties you got.'
Jennie, surprised at what he said creased her eyebrows and thought for a moment.
'Really?' she asked. 'I thought boys liked the other ones better.'
Mike frowned slightly and pursed his lips as he thought. The pot was making both of them much more stupid than they normally would be.
'Well,' he began, 'that's true I guess. But I've always been different. You know some men really go crazy for lingerie; myself, I prefer a woman to be naked. So maybe more men prefer those French-cut panties you've been wearing lately. Personally I think the plain white cotton panties are... more friendly.'