Chapter 91: Mother’s worry
My Eighteenth Birthday
I'm going to get right into it because this is still blowing my mind. It was summertime, and I had just turned eighteen with one more year of high school to go. So, now I'm an adult. I can do everything an adult can do but drink, so I get most of the benefits, but I also get all the blame. There are some serious consequences to my actions I had never thought about before, not really, and to tell you readers the truth, I don't give a shit about the unfair consequences that could befall me now. A jury would understand, right? I would. But just because I don't care, it doesn't mean that my mother doesn't. My mother cares. She cares a whole motherfucking lot.
As I've said, I'm eighteen years old, and so is my girlfriend, older than me by a month. I've known her for my entire life. She's my neighbor. You see, we've been together for a long time. A long time and we've had opportunities to really be together, but we've held off, and why? Because we're good people who do what our parents say--and that's a problem--but we promised to take things slow, and so we did. And now, we're both eighteen, and guess what? We can do whatever we want now, or so we had hoped.
You see, no one had had a problem with my relationship with Jenna--I'm Mark, by the way--not my mother, not my father, not Mr. and Mrs. Mason, not anyone, until Mr. Mason walked in on me with a mouth full of his daughter's hairless pussy right after I turned eighteen. That was her first birthday present to me. Could you blame me... or her? Jenna was fucking hot, and I--we--were both in need of some loving. How could we not be?
We're both teens, and porn was everywhere. Sex sells, and teens are supposed to resist their urges while under the onslaught of 13 Reasons Why, Euphoria, and Taylor Swift writing songs about every guy she's taken between her legs (Does she still do that? I don't know.) Then there's Miley Cyrus being a whore (or she was a whore at one time), and Ariana Grande once talked about dick size and how being big was good, and then there's social media oozing sex all the fucking time. You can't watch a teen drama without someone getting fucked. If people were fucking at my age before the invention of TV, then why the fuck wouldn't modern teens want to blow a load or two as often as possible? Sex is everywhere, and we like it. Hell, at eighteen, we need it.
Where was I? Oh, yeah, Jenna was fucking hot. There's more to her than hotness, but she was fucking hot. She has long blonde hair, tan skin, an oval face, bright blue eyes, and perfect teeth. Her tits are over a handful in size, and her stomach drops straight down with an almost six-pack look that ends at the cut in her hips leading into the smooth skin of her mound and the bare lips below. She doesn't like hair. She doesn't want any. It gets in the way of her sexy bikinis and her even hotter panties. While her pussy is heaven, she has one hell of an ass. She has a soccer chick's round butt, firm thighs, and long legs. You can't beat that for sexiness.
Dad used to say, "She reminds me of your mother," before Jenna entered high school, and sports thickened her body.
Earlier today, we were on her sofa, and she was wearing a black shirt with white trim, and printed across the front was the word EASY. She was also wearing a pink schoolgirl skirt that was way too short for school, and if a girl was going to wear that, she had better expect to be flashing her panties to the world. Lucky for me, Jenna doesn't mind one bit. She was wearing the skirt for me. We were on her couch, and her panties were lying on her coffee table, and that's when the lock on the front door rattled.
We parted in a hurry and went back to watching TV as her dad walked into the house. He greeted us--I could tell he was still pissed at me for eating his daughter's pussy at midnight--then he went to the kitchen, and then he came back, and that's when he grew silent. It was kind of freaky. We both looked at him, and we both noticed that his eyes were staring at the ultra-small, transparent panties his daughter had been wearing. This was right after he had caught me going down on his daughter and had told us both to knock it off until the real adults could discuss their children's new superpowers--the powers to fuck, I guess.
So... ah shit.
"Jenna," he said in a calm voice that was more unsettling than if he had yelled. "Put your panties back on right now."
Jenna stood, grabbed them, and facing sideways to her father and me; she straightened her panties in her hands, then she lifted her right foot and put them through the strings of her leg hole, and then her left foot, and then she pulled them up her legs, fitting them into place. Her hips shuffled, and her skirt came up over her thighs, baring the sides of her hips to her father and me, along with a flash of her muff as her skirt flared when she adjusted the crotch against her softness.
Her dad left the room after that. I left the house shortly after, walking to my house next door. That night, my parents talked with Jenna's dad, and Jenna's dad told them that if this continues, he will end our relationship himself. He said the entire "I'm her father, she'll do as I say while she lives under my roof," spiel--what the fuck, right? Did he think his daughter didn't have an appetite for cock?
Fuck him.
Fuck him!
That's what Jenna and I said, but my parents agreed with his parents, especially my mother.
"Do you want to be like those teen parents on TV?" Mom asked. "They're the lucky ones. Do you know how many teen parents have to put their lives on hold because they got pregnant too early." She shook her head at me. "You know what? It stops now. Get through college, and then you have all the sex you want. If you don't stop your behavior with Jenna"--Mom lifted her right hand and spun her forefinger around--"is gone. You'll have to get a job. You'll have to pay your fair share. No more free rides. Do you understand me?"
Fuck my parents, too--not in a bad way--just their idea of going along with Mr. Mason.
So, Jenna and I decided that late on my eighteenth birthday, we were going to fuck just to fuck our parents over. In hindsight, it was stupid to think that way, but when you're young, you do stupid shit without thinking. Lucky for me, during the party, my mother had watched Jenna and me all night long.
We had the party at my house, nothing special, just a bunch of eighteen-year-olds running around in boardshorts and bikinis, grilling food, and drinking sugary liquids that we poured alcohol into on the sly. Mom watched us. First, from the outside, when the party had just started, then she went inside, and I could feel her green eyes on me from her upstairs bedroom. Jenna sat on my lap, and we kissed once, and Mom appeared outside less than a minute later to ask us if we needed anything.
We didn't.
Several of my friends had told me to tell my mother to put on her bikini and join us, which led to me throwing them in the pool against their will, but that's life for you when your mother was a MILF, and she was a MILF. When I was younger, before I became aware of my mother as a woman, I always used to tell her how beautiful she was, which she loved to hear. She thought it was cute, and I'd never fail to remind her how beautiful she was compared to everyone else. Then I discovered masturbation... and flirting with my mother, as my father called it--without telling me what flirting meant--came to an end.
My mother was tall and willowy, with smooth, light golden skin and long, layered, sun-blonde hair--flaxen hair descended from her Norwegian blood--that almost glints white in the sunlight. She has elegant features and high cheekbones, the kind that any fantasy fanboy may have imagined a regal elven queen to bear. She's slender and tight, with a flowing body unobstructed by the cut of leanness that some CrossFit moms have going for them. Her breasts were just over a handful, while her butt was small, widening sideways from her hips like a pear. Her cheeks were round and as golden as the rest of her skin thanks to the sunbathing she did in her whale-tale, micro G-strings that I'm sure I'm not supposed to know about, but I did.
I haven't seen her in them, but what kind of boy hasn't rummaged through his mother's panty drawer at least once in their lifetime? (A normal fucking boy, I'd guess.)
So, Mom left us once Jenna slid off my lap. The party continued until sundown when people started heading home. Jenna and I changed into shorts and shirts, then we watched a movie with my parents, cut some cake in a quiet ceremony around my dinner table with my loved ones, and then Jenna and I went up to my bedroom. Mom's eyes followed us, but mostly they followed me, and Dad called us over to tell the both of us what Jenna's father and my mother expected from us--A soldier-like dedication to their orders.
"You've waited eighteen years," Dad said, "so what're another four?" He lowered his voice to a whisper then. "Do well in college, and I bet you'll only have to wait two more years."
We nodded our heads, and we went to my room to say, "Fuck our parents," in the most physical way possible.
I should have known that my mother wasn't about to let that happen.
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