Mommy Dearest

*****

Believe you me I have wracked my brains trying to explain about the next two hours or so. To a degree I want to say I revenge fucked my mother, paying her back for the injustices she had done Daddy; but that wouldn't be true. I fucked Mother because I wanted to fuck her, not because I hoped to get payback.

I've told you before that she's a beautiful woman who looks a decade younger than she really is. And she is also a mighty impressive kisser. Yes . . . kisser. I hadn't had more than an air kiss from her since I was about two but suddenly she was at me, snogging like a lover, tongues very much to the fore.

What can I say? My head went blank. I didn't spare one thought for Daddy or Jude or any other lover who featured in my latest agenda. It was all here and now . . . or there and then.

And omigod Mother's hand was in my knickers!

To say she had never previously dared do girls she had very a decent idea as how they should be done. She delved in deeply and, avoiding my hood and clit, deftly stroked my labia, alternating from one side to another before running two or three knowing fingers up and down my slit.

This being in very close quarters, you understand. If I did think to any extent at all I must have supposed that she was doing the sort of things she liked guys to do to her.

(Not that I wanted to think about her and "guys"! Officially she was still Daddy's wife. She shouldn't have a clue what "guys" could do for her. Her memories of "guys" should be restricted to before I was born.)

As if!

Chapter Ten

Go on, then, I'll give you a hint as to what occurred. Caught totally by surprise, I let Mother bring me off at least six times. Then she came over all submissive and I went down on her.

And did I explain how vocal she was when I overheard Brian fucking her? Well take it from me: my efforts put his in the shade. Didn't she scream, yell and raise the roof!

After admiring her heart-shaped landing-strip (and secretly betting myself that it was new since Daddy's departure, maybe even new since the toy boy's departure) I moved in for the kill.

Yes, much less considerate than her, I used my Monopoly experience and went directly for her clit. I did not pass Go and I did not collect two hundred pounds. And I made six cums seem like a mere bagatelle. If she had ever cum harder that she did during numbers (say) ten to fifteen . . .

Well, if she ever had she was a lucky lady indeed.

Eventually she pulled me off by my hair.

'I'm done in,' she gasped.

At that moment I wanted to grab my harness and fuck her for real. I was, however, still rational enough to remember my dildo needed thoroughly cleaning. Not that I am saying Amy had STDs but these days who really ever knows? And never mind STDs, I didn't have any condoms. Yes, I could have asked Mother but the resultant explanations would have done my head in.

So instead, ignoring the tugs on my long auburn locks, I attacked her clit with renewed enthusiasm, using two fingers inside her as well . . . I'm considerate like that.

Mother took it for half an hour and three more big orgasms then hauled me off again.

'I'm done in,' she reiterated. 'It's far better than I'd ever imagined ,but any more and I'll die.'

'Best recover quickly then,' I countered lightly, 'Brian will be here soon.'

Mother rolled her eyes. 'Jesus,' she groaned, 'what have I let myself in for!

'I could always take your place. I could say you've had a . . . tiring afternoon and I'm standing in out of the goodness of my heart.'

Mother chuckled weakly. 'I'm not a quitter. I'll pull myself together.'

'With me in the shower, you mean?'

Cue another eye roll. 'I'm not going anywhere near you in yonks,' Mother said. 'And this is our little secret, no?'

I was good at little secrets. 'Mum's the word,' said I.

Mother's brow scrunched at that but she didn't comment directly.

'Daddy never has to know about this,' she said as sternly as she breathlessly could, 'it's between just you and me.'

Couldn't have put it better myself.

*****

At a loose end, not wanting to bump into Brian, I strolled back to Mother's local. Yes, I know that's a bit of a contradiction in terms, seeing as it was Brian's local too, but I didn't want to bump into him again at my old family home. Call me territorial, but twice in one day would be too much.

As I strolled I redialled Daddy. He answered on the second ring.

'We won,' he said immediately, 'and yes, we are celebrating. We're in the nineteenth right now, waiting for a taxi.'

Guess where the taxi was taking Daddy and Doreen? Yes, right first time: they were bound for the same venue as Mother and Brian, Michelin star and all.

Not that I was in a position to warn anyone off.

'The lasagne is to die for,' I said helpfully, not really having a clue where the menu started and ended.

'Maybe as a side dish,' Daddy replied. 'We won by a mile. Tonight we're pushing the boat out.'

Crossing my fingers, I hoped there wouldn't be a restaurant confrontation and wished Daddy and Doreen bon appetite.

Then I went into the pub.

*****

Two more glasses of dry white and I was no wiser about what lay ahead of me. Well, apart from a major hangover tomorrow if I didn't slow down.

Why is wine so drinkable and so strong? And why is that non-alcoholic crap such as waste of time?

I was musing on the mysteries of life when a new attraction caught my eye.

At that moment, in the mood I was, I wasn't likely to discriminate when it came to the gender of a possible sexual partner. Even with my patchy history, I would have noticed a good prospect when I saw one. And I would definitely have noticed one I knew from the past . . . meaning from happy schooldays of yore.

But not this pone; this one was special.

It was a girl; but what a girl!

Tall, hair so blonde it was almost white, cropped short on top and shaved at the sides. She came as close to perfection as anyone possibly could. Tight, stylishly slashed light blue denims and a top which left less than nothing to the imagination. Every guy in the boozer had his tongue hanging out at the sight, as did a fair proportion of the women.

And, getting a drink seemingly on the house, she sashayed her way straight over to me.

'Natalie,' she purred, 'what a pleasant surprise.'

Fuck me; it was Yvonne, the building society director I'd met yesterday. But this was Yvonne in a different guise altogether.

Yesterday Yvonne had been in office dress . . . long legs, sexy black stockings, intriguingly short skirt and all.

Today she was dressed for a rave and I for one wanted to rave with her.

Pardon my French, but fuck me, who wouldn't!

'Pleasant isn't the word,' I managed, immediately blushing as I realized what I'd just said.

'Fancy meeting you in here,' she went on, not even flinching.

'Fancy sums it up nicely,' said I, using Jane Austen's meaning of "nice" and combining it with Emmanuelle Arsan's meaning of "fancy"

'Yvonne glanced at my glass and then at my eyes.'

'I'm purposely slowing down,' I told her. 'I had a couple of drinks this lunchtime, so I'm going to be careful from now on.'

'How very wise; it'd be awful if somebody took advantage of you.'

'Depends who it was taking advantage.' I laughed. 'Are you off to a rave by any chance?'

'That rather depends if a better offer comes along. Tonight I could go either way.'

I laughed louder still. 'Ike and Mike, we think alike.' Then, in case she had missed my message, I added, 'I don't really do raves. Not unless they're limited to two ravers.'

'Would that be two female ravers or . . .'

I hadn't the words so I simply nodded, indicating that two females was fine by me.

'I hoped to bump into you,' Yvonne continued, almost whispering, trying not to be overheard and oblivious to all the eyes on her, 'but my luck's never been as good as this. Do you come here often?'

'Only in the mating season,' said I, completing the age-old wisecrack.

Yvonne's chuckle was as light as snowflakes before dawn.

'Here might be a little awkward for what I have in mind,' she went on, already holding my hand. 'I'm to say the least, rather well-known in here. But I know literally dozens of other places. And I'm ready, willing and able to go to places of yours.'

'Restaurants are out,' I said, aware that one in particular needed to be avoided.

'That suits me just fine. Beer, wine, a takeaway Chinese or Indian; who needs a restaurant?'

I looked again at her slashed jeans, at her proud tits and a million fetching curves.

'Drink your drink,' said I, 'I'll accompany you anywhere you like.'