Even if she is my daughter, I have to say that Brittany is your typical dumb blonde. She never seems to know what's good for her. On the other hand, what the fuck do I care ? I'm having some of the best sex of my life because the girl's not got sense enough to keep the best thing that ever happened to her. Oh, well . . .
My beautiful Brittany's had her turn keeping every bad boy in town happy and satisfied. She's paraded every one of them through the house at one time or other. They're all either pierced or tattooed - or both. At the very least they have beards, moustaches and long hair that covers their faces so I can't see their eyes. She went through a really irritating, "I only want to date artists and musicians" phase that lasted about five years. None of them ever had any money, and she used to pay for everything - not just for where they went and what they did on their dates, but sometimes she actually paid their bills for them. It used to make my husband Jake so mad he wanted to choke them - and her, too. He and I divorced last year, so I took over the job and now I let it piss me off. She could do SO much better if she just would.
had to admit, though, that one or two of those musicians were hot. Brett was tall and reed thin and very quiet - with the shiniest, blackest hair and most piercing ice blue eyes I'd ever seen. He was the lead guitar player and the lead singer - but his speaking voice was low and husky; you had to lean in close to really be able to understand him. He was drop-dead gorgeous. Brittany had dated him for nearly a year, until he'd found a potential girlfriend who made fewer demands and more money than Brittany did. She'd been absolutely heartbroken - well, until she met Todd, anyway. He had big adorable brown puppy-dog eyes and was the bass player in her favorite local band. It wasn't long before I was hearing the all-too-familiar moans and groans emanating from her room again.
And then there was the summer when she'd only dated bikers. She must have gone through the whole local division of the Hell's Angels. She was their pass-around good-time girl. Big, hairy, sweaty guys'd come cursing and stomping through the living room yelling for her all the time. Jake had been far too worried about what the neighbors were thinking - all those big, nasty motorcycles roaring up and down the street and the driveway at all hours of the day and night. I was far more worried that she'd pick up some nasty infection and would never be able to give me any grandchildren. We never found out exactly what happened, but it was over as quickly as it started. She never talked about it afterwards.
And then there was the guy who was about half-way through with his big plan of getting a full-body tattoo. And the guy whose earlobes had these big huge holes in them. He'd inserted big metal plugs in them, trying to stretch them even larger. This one also had a lip ring. I didn't even get to meet most of these jokers; I only heard about them after it was over between Brit and them. I guess it was just as well . . . I didn't want to think about my baby girl doing the dirty with these creeps . . .
I have to admit, though, that there were moments I found myself having some pretty hot fantasies about what it would be like to have sex with some of these strange boys my daughter dated. I wouldn't want to have an actual relationship with any of them - but I was curious what it would be like to have these odd men touch me . . .
And then one day she called and asked if she could bring her new guy over for dinner the next night. I agreed right away, although I was more than a little curious and surprized because I'd not heard anything about this Brandon boy before now.
But as soon as I met him, I knew why she'd kept him such a big secret from me - he was a polar opposite from anyone I'd ever known my daughter to date. I didn't even know she knew people like him. He had normal hair and normal clothes - and no tattoos or piercings. He was polite and well-mannered. He was intelligent and well-educated and had a good job in a bank. He owned his own house. He had a good sense of humor and actually knew how to carry on an decent conversation. He brought me a huge bouquet of roses. He also brought a hideously expensive bottle of wine. He never used the f-word once. All this in his favor - and he also never stood a chance in hell of having a real relationship with with my Brittany. He was nothing more than a novelty to her. Before long, she'd be spending her entire paycheck making sure her deadbeat boyfriends had enough pot and beer again.
I, on the other hand, was really enjoying the evening and wanted it to go on forever. It had been a long time since I'd had this much fun. When Brandon and Brittany finally walked out my front door together, I had to admit to myself that I was insanely jealous of my daughter. I couldn't help it - and as I lay in my bed that night, I spread my wet cunt lips wide apart and fucked myself royally with my new vibrator as I fantasized about being fucked by my daughter's boyfriend. And I didn't even feel bad about it because I knew she didn't really want him and nothing would ever come of it.
Still, I wasn't prepared for the overwhelming sense of disappointment I felt the next week when I spoke to her on the phone and she told me she'd broken up with him. She said none of her girlfriends liked him. They all laughed at her and made fun of him. They said he was a nerd; a geek. They said he was a cross between Pee Wee Herman and Conan O'Brien. They called him Skippy. She told me it was over for sure anyway because Brett had ditched his current girlfriend, so he and Brittany were fucking again - and besides, she said Brandon was really crap in bed because he didn't know very much and he always came too quick. I told her I thought he was really cute, even if he was extremely clean cut. I told her I was sorry it didn't work out between them. And then I hung up and I cried like a baby for the rest of the afternoon and evening. And when I got home, I got drunk and masturbated again - fantasizing about having my daughter's preppy ex-boyfriend's dick pumping away and blowing its load inside of me.
The next night it was storming hard. I was drinking red wine, watching tv and answering my e-mail when the doorbell rang. I answered it to see a very teary-eyed Brandon standing there. He apologized profusely for interrupting me and then burst into tears. I was surprized, both to see him and at the state he was in so of course I invited him to come in. We sat at the kitchen table and talked - about everything - until way past midnight. He told me he was, indeed, quite shy in the bedroom - due mostly to his inexperience. Before Brittany, he'd only had one girlfriend - and she'd been a cold-fish seminary student who was saving her sacred pussy for Jesus. I finished off the bottle of red wine, and Skippy had a big cold glass of milk and a plate of chocolate-chip cookies. I could tell he was feeling a lot better now.
I got up and said I needed to go to the bathroom, and took a little detour past my bedroom to change into a sheer black shortie nightgown (no panties). I also popped into the master bathroom for a minute to wash my snatch and squirt myself with a little perfume.
When I went back into the kitchen and he saw me dressed like that he freaked out, hopping up and saying he thought it was time he left because he had a busy day planned for tomorrow and he needed to make sure he got plenty of rest. He thanked me for the milk and cookies and apologized for interrupting me. I touched him lightly on the forearm and told him it wasn't necessary for him to leave right now. I tugged at the end of his sleeve and pulled him down the hall after me til we got to my bedroom. We walked inside and I closed the door behind us.
I shoved him over backwards on the bed and then fell right on top of him. I planted one of his sweaty hands on one of my breasts and spread my legs wide. I started humping him slowly as I began pulling his crisp white shirt out of his trousers. The startled "deer-in-the-headlights" look on his face was priceless. I began unbuckling and unzipping his pants. I pulled his fat cock out and began giving him a handjob. He was rock hard in no time flat.
I didn't have any panties on, so I was able to just climb on and start riding his hard prick. Brittany was right - the boy was clumsy and unco-ordinated. I leaned over and kissed him, gently brushing my nipples against his chest and pushing my tongue into his mouth. He was an excellent kisser. We kissed and kissed and he started getting a lot looser. He was also getting more impatient. I had to keep slowing him down. Still, it was only a couple of minutes before I felt his body stiffen. He let out a little groan and I felt his hot cum splash hard up against the insides of my cunt. So damn it ! Looked like Brittany was right about that part, too . . .
Well, this girl hadn't managed to cum yet. I was horny and certainly wasn't about to let the matter slide. After I gave him a few minutes to recuperate, I sat up. Then I moved and repositioned my body until I was straddling his face, my hot and hungry pussy just inches from his mouth. I instructed him to stick his tongue out and start licking. I told him when to lick around the outside of my cunt lips and when to make his tongue hard and fuck me with it. I also let him know when to start sucking on my clit. I'd not felt this much pleasure in a long time. I was on the right verge of cumming for a long time. And then Brandon moaned and grabbed my ass hard - and I came like a madwoman . . . I was screaming and thrashing around and I felt like I was flying.
When I woke up a little while later, I was laying in Brandon's arms and he was staring down at me so sweetly it made me wet all over again. He kissed me gently and we fucked again. I taught him a few things about a woman's body - and about the sweet rewards of patience. And then we both fell asleep until the next morning, when we woke up and showered - and went at it again. I gave him what I know was definitely the best blowjob of his life in the shower.
It was Saturday morning and neither one of us had to go to work, so we both went our separate ways - after first agreeing to meet up again later in the week. Over the next few days, it seemed like I was horny all the time, and I rubbed my swollen clit day and night waiting for our next sex lesson. It couldn't get here fast enough. My fingers and my new vibrator got a real workout.
Our second session went much better than the first. My massive, thundering orgasm last time had given Brandon a lot of confidence in himself - and it showed. This time, it was me who came nearly immediately. His tongue had remembered everything I'd taught it - and then made up a few fancy moves of its own. My Brittany sure didn't know what she'd given up . . . Let her keep all those losers she loved so much - I'll keep good-looking Brandon any day.
He and I continue to meet - except now it's nearly every night we see each other. I've never been happier. Thanks, Brittany !