A Mom's Help

"Mom," Vanessa said in a plaintive voice, "can you help me?"

I looked at my daughter dubiously. I'm June Franklin, and I've been waiting patiently for Vanessa to become more mature and outgoing; but at eighteen and two months, she still seemed shy and withdrawn, uncomfortable around people other than her own family. And that family has now been reduced to yours truly, since I and my husband Matthew had decided to part company after several years of ill-concealed hostility. The fact that Vanessa had graduated from high school and had started taking classes at the local community college (staying at home to save money) provided Matthew the perfect excuse to vamoose. I couldn't help wondering whether Matthew, at forty-two (my exact age), in the midst of a midlife crisis, was eyeing some sweet young thing—maybe someone scarcely above his daughter's age—to cuddle up with. I don't know for a fact that such a person existed, and I chortled inwardly about my ex-husband's chances of landing such a scrumptious morsel. But for men, hope springs eternal.

"What is it, dear?" I said tiredly.

Vanessa could hardly even look at me as we sat in Vanessa's tiny bedroom, which barely had enough room for a queen-size bed, a desk, and a loveseat.

"You see, Mom," she said, "I think I have a boyfriend."

"A boyfriend?" I said, startled. "You think you have one? Don't you know?"

"Well, I've gone out with him several times—"

"Gone out? I haven't noticed you going out in the evenings."

"It's not been like that. We just spend some time in the campus coffee shop after our last afternoon class."

"Vanessa, that hardly strikes me as going out on a date."

"Well, it's something!" Vanessa whined. "I'm sure he likes me."

"And you like him?"

"Oh, yes!"

The fervency of my daughter's response troubled me. This was, after all, the very first time Vanessa had shown any interest in boys—or men (I assumed the guy was at least her own age, if not a bit older)—in her whole life. And the emotions that could stir up could easily lead to trouble of various sorts.

"Well, good for you," I said cautiously. "So what is it you want help with?"

Vanessa now blushed crimson and again looked away from me. "Well, it's just—I mean, what do I do if he—"

I eyed my daughter keenly. "You mean, if he makes a move on you?"

"Yes."

"Well, it all depends on what he does, and how far he goes. Do you want him to make a move on you?"

"Yes." Vanessa now blushed even more furiously.

"Well, he probably will. He's a guy, after all. They all want to get into a woman's pants."

"Mom, that's not very nice! Nicholas isn't like that—he's the perfect gentleman."

My lip curled cynically. "He's a gentleman until he isn't a gentleman. That's how most men are. The moment they get you into their clutches, you'd better watch out, girl!"

"I'm sure Nick won't do anything like that to me. He's been very respectful."

"Okay, fine. But if you're signaling that he should make a move, then he'll do exactly that."

Vanessa shuddered with both delight and a bit of fear at the prospect. "Do you think," she said in a furtive whisper, "he'll want to touch my boobs?"

I looked at my daughter. I had to admit that Vanessa was quite a dish. About five foot six, she was slender but with an exuberant endowment at the bust. I couldn't remember what her bra size was, but I had a dim recollection that it was something like 36D. Plenty of boob for a lusty man to hold onto! And the rest of her was pretty succulent also, including a curvy bottom and nicely shaped thighs and calves. If I were a man, I thought idly, you bet I'd want to possess this tempting creature.

"I'm sure he will," I said with a little tremor in my voice. Since Matthew's absence, no one had touched my boobs, or any other part of me, and I was already getting a little crabby from sex deprivation. "And he's not going to stop there."

"Should I let him go on?"

"It all depends on how you feel about him. If you like him as much as you say you do, then you'll probably not want him to stop. I take it you're referring to your—spot?"

"Yes, Mom."

"You play with yourself, don't you?"

"Mom, what a question!"

"Oh, come on, Vanessa, everyone does—men and women alike. It's a natural process. God knows, before I met your father or when he wasn't around, I got myself off in many and varied ways. It was great fun!"

"Well, sure, I play with myself. Not all that often, though."

"Why on earth not? What's there to be ashamed of?"

"I'm not ashamed. Just a little embarrassed, I guess. I didn't want you—and especially Daddy—to hear me when I, um . . . came."

"That's understandable. But I'll tell you, a lot of men don't really know how that part of us works. I'm not even talking about the guys who don't even care whether we get off or not. Even those who do can be pretty clumsy at it."

"What about me? Should I—you know, touch him?"

"Well, men have only one place they really like to be touched. Oh, sure, some men like their bottoms to be fondled, but basically we're talking about his cock. Aren't we?"

"Yes," Vanessa said in a small voice.

"I'll tell you, Vanessa, that piece of apparatus takes a bit of experience to get to know. It seems to have a mind of its own—and, frankly, the moment it's out there it pretty much takes up all the attention. You're gonna have to nurture that thing if you expect to win a man over and keep him."

"But—but now?"

"There are plenty of ways. You can stroke it."

"How do I do that?"

"It's not exactly rocket science, dear, although there are complications that only trial and error can clarify. And of course, you'll want to put it in your mouth."

Vanessa blanched. "Eeew! Not on your life!"

I peered at her daughter exasperatedly. "Vanessa, darling, there's no way you're going to be able to avoid that. Every man will expect you to do it to him. Anyway, it's just foreplay—and it's rather nice, if I do say so myself."

"You mean he won't, you know, squirt into my mouth?"

"Well, he might if he's a newbie. Young guys have trouble controlling themselves."

"Mom, I don't want that stuff in my mouth! Yuck! I'd just spit it out."

"Don't do that, dear. Guys can be very sensitive about that—you'll hurt their feelings if you don't swallow it."

"Ugh. What does it taste like, anyway?"

"It's pretty salty."

"Salty? Why is it salty?"

"I have no idea, dear. It just is. Anyway, I don't mind swallowing."

"You don't?"

"Well, I'll admit I'm not thrilled at the taste—but the idea of having it in my mouth and the idea of swallowing it is pretty exciting. Also, it's supposed to have a lot of protein."

"Wonderful," Vanessa said sourly. But then she turned serious. In an ominous voice the said, "But then, of course, there's . . ."

I knew what she was trying to say. "The main event?"

"Yeah. What's that like?"

"Oh, my dear, there's no way I can describe it. I assume you haven't done it before?"

"Of course not!"

"Okay, okay, just checking. Well, it's very hard to talk about it. You just have to go through it. You still have your hymen?"

"Yes."

"Ah. Well, then, it'll probably hurt a little. Maybe even a lot."

"A lot?"

"It's possible. And you'll probably bleed."

"Oh, God, Mom!"

"Calm down, Vanessa. It's no big deal. We all bleed. It's just a one-time thing."

"Will I like it after that?"

"Well, you may need a couple of tries to get over the pain—but after that, it's heaven!"

"Will I come that way?"

"Not likely. Usually the guy will have to do you—with his fingers or his mouth—afterwards."

"His mouth!" Vanessa said with a shudder. "I don't want him putting his mouth down there!"

"Vanessa, you poor dear, you don't know what you're missing. If you ever find a guy who can lick and nuzzle you down there, for God's sake hold onto him! I will say that some men don't like doing it."

"I'm not surprised. It's where a girl pees."

"Of course it is. But they don't like the smell or the taste. That's what I've heard. Every woman's pussy smells and tastes different—"

"Really?"

"Yes, really. So some men like it and others don't. Even those who don't care for it will probably want to do it. Just as with us and their cock, they like the idea of licking us down there."

"So the guy will do it after he comes?"

"Well, if he's a real gentleman he'll get you off before he comes. But it's only the exceptional man who'll do that. The worst type of man, of course, is the one who does his business, squirts his stuff in you, and then rolls over and falls asleep. I don't necessarily blame the poor dears: they're doing most of the work, and I've heard that ejaculating releases some kind of hormone that makes men sleepy. But still, it seems pretty rude."

"I hope Nick isn't that way."

"I hope so too, for your sake. So you really think he's going to be the one to deflower you?"

"Gee, Mom, what a horrible word!"

"Oh, I rather like it, even though it suggests someone who plucks up a flower, smells it, and then tosses it away. Anyway, sex just takes practice, and the sooner you get some the better off you'll be. Just don't give your favors too easily: you'll get a reputation that way."

"Yes, Mom."

And, as I walked out of her daughter's room, I had a feeling that Vanessa was thinking: Who knew intimacy could be so complicated?

*

A few nights later, Vanessa went out after dinner, looking a little spooked. I watched her carefully as she shuffled out the door, but then shrugged. Whether the destruction of her hymen was going to happen tonight or some other night, she'd just have to go through the procedure and make the best of it. I didn't find anything interesting on television to watch, so I retired to my bedroom for some idle reading. I thought I heard my daughter come in very quietly, but thought nothing of it. It was only about half an hour later, when Vanessa burst into my bedroom, that things got interesting.

Vanessa was naked.

I gasped. My daughter was even more beautiful than I had imagined. That slim frame presented an hourglass shape, with those large, firm breasts on top and the flaring hips at the midsection. Even as Vanessa faced me, I could see that her bottom was lusciously round and shapely, and I was surprised at the dense tuft of dark fur at her delta. For some strange reason I thought that Vanessa's lack of experience in sex might have resulted in only a thin coating of pubic hair—or perhaps none at all.

"Vanessa," I said severely, "what on earth are you doing?"

"Mom," Vanessa cried desperately, "you gotta help me!"

"Help you? How?'

"Um, well, Nick's in there—" She gestured behind herself, to her own bedroom.

"You have Nick in your bedroom?"

"Of course! Didn't you hear us come in?"

"You were pretty quiet about it. I thought it was only you."

"Well, we're both in there. And we've been—you know, cuddling. So now he's all excited, and I don't know what to do!"

I closed her eyes in dismay. "I thought we talked about this."

"We did, but I can't remember all the stuff! It's so confusing. Please, Mom, you gotta help!"

"And how exactly am I to do that?"

Vanessa was now tugging at my arms to get her out of bed. "Just give me some pointers—just some tips to get going."

I stared at her, but allowed myself to be pulled out of bed. I myself was only wearing a nightgown—but at least that was better than parading around naked. Even so, all sorts of strange thoughts flashed through my head. Am I really going to go into my daughter's bedroom and watch her lose her virginity?

We trudged to Vanessa's bedroom. When Vanessa flung the door open, I saw Nick sitting on the loveseat. He too was naked.

When he saw his girlfriend's mom marching into the room, he let out a strangled scream and desperately covered his pubic area with both hands. "Vanessa, wh-what's she doing here?" he exclaimed.

"She's just going to lend me some support," Vanessa said, frowning at him as if he were an idiot.

I strode over to the young man—I gauged him to be eighteen or nineteen—and held out my hand. "You must be Nicholas."

He mechanically extended a hand (holding the other over his cock) and shook mine. "Hiya," he muttered. "Call me Nick."

Even with that one hand trying to conceal his member, I could see that Nick's endowment was fairly formidable. About eight or even nine inches, by my estimate. No wonder my inexperienced daughter was freaking out!

"So what do you want me to do?" I asked her in a businesslike manner.

"Well," Vanessa said hesitantly, "he wants me to put it in his mouth. But there's no way I can get it all the way in!"

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, Vanessa, no man expects a woman to stuff the whole thing into her mouth—unless, of course, he has an itty-bitty cock, which your man certainly does not. Anyway, it's the tip that has most of the sensation, so you just suck or lick or even nibble on it, and that should be enough."

But Vanessa still held back, terrified of the sight of what seemed to her a monstrously huge appendage.

I turned my attention to Nick. "It seems," I said wearily, "that my daughter wants some hands-on instruction. Do you mind?"

In a daze, Nick shook his head.

Prying his hand off his organ, I knelt down and took stock of it. It was not only long but also quite thick—just the sort of thing to scare timorous virgins! But I am a woman of mature years, and took the thing in stride.

And so I took it into my mouth.

Addressing it matter-of-factly, I engulfed the first few inches, holding the shaft with one hand while playing with Nick's balls with the other. Sometimes I licked the shaft as if it was a tasty lollipop; other times I slathered my tongue over the tip, and was pleased that Nick let out a heavy groan; at times I also craned my neck down and placed both of his balls into my mouth, rolling them around as if they were huge marbles.

Taking the cock out of my mouth, I looked over to Vanessa and said, "Do you get the basic idea? Now why don't you try?"

Vanessa joined me on the floor, kneeling in front of her boyfriend but still seeming petrified at the very sight of his impressive member. She took hold of it with thumb and index finger, as if to avoid getting her other fingers soiled by it. Then, after a tentative flick of her tongue on the tip, she managed to get the first two or three inches into her mouth.

Almost immediately her face brightened. She took the cock out of her mouth and said cheerfully, "Gee, Mom, I like how it tastes!"

"I'm not sure it has much of a taste," I said. "I just like the overall feel and texture. There's nothing quite like it."

"You can say that again!" Vanessa said—and then made the mistake of plunging more than half its length down her throat. She gagged at once and had to pull it out of her mouth, a little string of saliva trickling out.

"Rookie mistake," I said. "You're really not ready for deep throat, dear. Let me show you how it's done."

I don't regard herself as an expert in this particular act, but, brushing my daughter aside, I grabbed Nick's cock and swallowed about half of it. Then I slowly and carefully worked my lips in such a way that several more inches disappeared down my throat. I was still not very close to the bottom of the shaft, but Nick was mightily impressed by my prowess. At last, though, I had to pull the long phallus out of my mouth, as my gag reflex was kicking in.

"That was really something, Mom!" Vanessa said admiringly.

"Yeah, well," I replied, "I'm a bit out of practice, but I guess I haven't lost the touch. Your daddy liked that—and, if I may say so, he wasn't quite as well endowed as this young stallion here."

There was a strange sort of pause in the action, as all three of us seemed frozen in place. At last I said to my daughter, "Okay, dear, are you ready for—you know what?"

Vanessa immediately backed away, trying to move as far away from Nick on the loveseat as she could. She also draped her hands over her breasts and delta.

"Oh, Mom!" she cried pitiably. "I'm so scared!"

"Vanessa," I said sharply, "snap out of it! You have to get this over with."

"But it's gonna hurt!"

"Of course it's going to hurt. That's our cross to bear as women. But it has to be done."

"I—I don't know how to do it."

"It doesn't take a lot of effort, dear. Just lie down on your back and let him in."

Vanessa cast a fleeting glance at Nick and said to me, "C-can't you show me how it's done?"

I glared at her. This was really the limit! But then I reminded myself that I had been in something of a sexual drought ever since my scumbag of a husband had left me. As I cast my own glance at the strong, muscular, well-endowed man whose cock I had already sampled, I got an idea.

Standing up in front of Nick, I said to him, "Listen, my man: if you, um, perform with me, will you still have the wherewithal to do my daughter later?"

Nick gazed up at her and said, "I think so."

"Well, you'd better," I said menacingly. And with that, I pulled my nightgown off my shoulders and let it drop to the floor.

I was, of course, naked underneath—and I received some satisfaction at the almost reverential glance Nick gave me. He took in my face, my sloping shoulders, flat stomach, swelling hips, strong thighs, shapely calves—and, of course, my robust breasts, not yet sagging, and the dense triangle of fur at my abdomen. As Nick sought to get a peek at my behind, I obligingly turned around and offered him a full view of my curvy bottom.

"Come over here," I ordered, as I went over to the bed and lay down on it.

Nick followed as if in a dream.

"Now," I said to my daughter, "the first order of business is for the man to check whether his partner is wet."

"Well, Mom," Vanessa said, blushing, "he already—you know, did me."

"He made you come?" I said, surprised. "Before he came himself?"

"Yeah."

She turned to Nick. "Good boy! Very noble of you. But you haven't made me come, so you'd better check what condition I'm in down there."

I opened my legs, and Nick held out a hand to check the dampness of my pussy. It was quite wet indeed. Vanessa also looked over to get a look.

"All right, Nick," I said, holding my arms open, "let's get this show on the road."

Nick almost jumped on me, and I thought he was going to plunge right in. But he fooled me: he placed his head on my breasts and began kissing and licking them, even kneading them as if they were big wads of dough. Clearly this man had a breast fixation—and why not? My breasts are no less spectacular than my daughter's, even if they've endured the squeezes and caresses of a fair number of men (including one man in particular for nearly twenty years). But I knew Nick couldn't wait to get into me, so after a few minutes he slid up my body and entered me.

I will admit that feeling that long, thick member stuffing itself into my pussy was very pleasant. He was better endowed than my ex, and I felt filled as I hadn't in a long time. Maybe in college I'd had a bigger cock than this one, but that was a long time ago. Nick seemed to like going into me more and more with each thrust, and in a short time he'd plugged me up to the hilt. I was thoroughly enjoying the experience, but rememberd that I still had to act as instructress to my naïve daughter, who was lying right next to us on the bed.

When I raised my legs, bent my knees, and wrapped them around his thighs, I looked over to her and said, "You should do this when a man possesses you."

"Why?" she said, wide-eyed and baffled.

"It creates a better angle for the guy to go in." It took a little while for me to get the words out, because Nick, aside from pounding me harder and harder, was plastering kisses on my mouth, not to mention any other places he could reach—cheeks, forehead, neck, even my underarm.