Jordans Brave New World

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All the actors in this script are of legal age. This is a work of adult erotic fiction and contains descriptions of sexual acts between consenting adults. If you're under the age of consent where you reside, delete this file immediately. If it is illegal to obtain adult literature where you reside, delete this file immediately. If it's entirely legal for you to read sexually explicit material, I hope you enjoy the story!

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Thank you all for your continued comments and support for the story. If you haven't already read the previous two installments regarding the sexual adventures of Jordan Peters, I suggest you do so before reading this third chapter for purposes of better understanding the continuity of the characters and story line.

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As the headlights of the taxi cab illuminated the driveway in the front of the house, I petted Satan one last time and then I surprised even myself. I leaned over and I kissed him on the head - because he was Debbie's dog. Then I stood up and headed out the front door, locking it behind me. As I climbed into the back seat of the cab I knew I couldn't wait to see Debbie at school the next day.

I had left Debbie's house in the dark of night, without any idea of the time. It actually appeared to be pretty late, so I finally asked the cab driver as we pulled into the high school campus under the watchful eye of the vigilant Independent School District Police. Does anyone really think those guys are actually awake in those patrol cars at this hour?

In an accent I could neither recognize nor place, I think he told me that it wasn't midnight yet, which I loosely interpreted to mean that it was probably somewhere between eleven thirty and eleven fifty nine. Then he dropped me off in the high school's faculty parking lot several feet from my shiny new black Accord, which was easy to find since it was the only car that was still in the lot at that hour. I might also add that it looked so adorable in the headlights of the cab, parked perfectly between those two white lines. Can you tell that it was my first new car?

I really didn't want to leave Debbie all alone curled up on the sofa after the wonderful time that we had. And I suspect that if we would have somehow made it into her bedroom together, I would have been totally content to just snuggle up to her all night and then deal with the logistical problems associated with not having my wardrobe and makeup the following morning.

That said, it was probably for the better that I forced myself to leave, but I sure as hell didn't have to like it. It had only been twenty minutes since I left her house and I was already missing her touch and I wanted to lose myself in those incredible brown eyes once more. I knew I was already looking forward to a time in the not-to-distant future when we would be able to wake up together in the same bed. I know it's silly for me to say it this early in the relationship, but I wanted Debbie's face to be the first thing I saw when I woke up and the last thing I saw when I went to sleep. I really hope that it all wasn't just wishful thinking on my part.

I had an awful lot to think about after everything that I'd experienced tonight and my mind was racing at over a hundred miles an hour. Of course, all of my thoughts centered around my new lover and what might happen between us after our first incredible night together.

My musings made me realize that I was terribly nervous about the aftermath on several levels. I was nervous about what Debbie would say to me when she saw me at school the following day. I was also equally nervous about how she would react towards me. Would she pretend the whole thing was no big deal at all or would she begin treating me differently – like a lover?

I guess I was also terribly nervous about how I might feel if she didn't treat me differently and I didn't know whether my fragile ego could even withstand considering any of the other options. I'd been used to this drill with the guys I had dated in college, but this was nothing like that as far as I was concerned. And of course that lead me to yet one other concern, as I began wondering whether Debbie experienced the kind of special connection that I did.

As I drove into my parent's driveway my digital dashboard clock reminded me that it was now officially Thursday. And then like a heat-seeking missile trying to over analyze a wonderful and romantic night with my new lover, I had one final disconcerting thought enter my head before I went into the house. If our night together ultimately means that Debbie and I are indeed a couple, am I mentally prepared for the sort of commitment that would involve?

I woke up the next morning a little earlier than usual because I had something very important I needed to do. The waking up part wasn't difficult at all, however, because I could not stop thinking about Debbie the entire night and the feelings I was developing for her and that kept me pretty wired. I wound up drifting into and out of a series of short catnaps that did little to disengage my brain or provide my body with some badly needed rest.

I intentionally decided not to shower the night before because I just couldn't bear to remove Debbie's scent. I inhaled it every time I took a breath and I knew that I loved everything about it. It felt a little weird on my skin after it had originally dried, but that aside, retaining her wonderful female aroma all over me was totally worth it. Moreover, now her scent would remain on my sheets and that notion seemed to delight me even more.

I came in from my early morning six mile jog with the perspiration pouring down my face and legs. It was quarter to six and my daddy was just about to embrace me in one of his usual paternal bear hugs until he saw how drenched I was. He thought the better of it and just leaned over and kissed me on the top of my head. Then he wished me a great second day on the new job and headed out the door for the Post Office in his cute little slate blue postal outfit with the short pants and knee-high socks.

I went in and headed directly for the bathroom where I started the water running into the tub. Unlike the opinion of most girls I've talked with about these personal hygiene items, I generally hated to take a bath. To me it meant that you had to sit in your own creepy water and then you even had to use that water to rinse yourself off. No matter what kind of spin I'd put on it, the whole process sounded almost primitive to me and I considered it downright unpleasant and certainly unsanitary.

Showers, on the other hand, were so much cleaner and faster and seemed to suit my jet-setting lifestyle much more, but on the days that I needed to shave my legs it was definitely a bath day. Today it would be a little bit more involved, however. Since last night I couldn't wait to shave my pussy and I really wanted to surprise Debbie and have it finished and ready to the next time we were together, in a biblical way that is, which I hoped would be right after school.

I settled into the ambient water and just relaxed for several minutes before taking care of business. I'm fortunate that I don't have too much body hair and what I do have grows slowly and sparsely. After a couple minutes of forced relaxation I took care of my legs rather quickly and then I started to prepare for the more challenging task at hand.

When I finally had my legs up straddling the sides of the tub, the perfect position I thought for either a pap test or the task I was about to undertake, my mom pushes open the door without knocking and looks down at me sitting in the tub. That, in and of itself, was not terribly unusual in our house and such an intrusion would normally never freak me out. The truth was, I've never been very modest around my mother and even my daddy has seen me in the buff a number of times since puberty and despite what the child psychologists say it's never driven me screaming into counseling.

I haven't told you too much about Elaine yet, so maybe it's about time I start, as she leans through the doorway prompting this summary disposition.

My mother gave birth to me two weeks after her eighteenth birthday. Coincidentally, it was the same time that my daddy and the rest of their senior high school class was walking across the stage to receive their diplomas at their graduation ceremony.

Much to my chagrin, many people have told us over the years that she looks like an older, prettier version of me. The only thing worse about having someone rub your nose in your own imperfections is for them to do it by a less than subtle comparison to your mother, unless of course your mother just happens to be Nicole Kidman. I suspect that alone should have driven me into counseling, but I was pretty strong. The truth is, I guess I would have been happy if those comparisons were really accurate, but unfortunately the differences between us out numbered the similarities and sadly they were not in my favor.

Where my body is really tight and trim from running and doing countless sit-ups, my mom has the traditional soft female body with all the great feminine curves. There's not an ounce of fat on her and what makes that really remarkable – at least to me, is that she has never even done one single jumping jack since she was forced to do them in her high school gym class. I really hate women like that, but I digress.

As you might already know I got my great eyes from her and I guess I need to also give her credit for my great hair. Although the color is pretty ordinary at a light-to-medium brown and sometimes I even downplay that asset, in truth my hair is really beautiful. It's very thick and shiny and I seldom ever have split ends. All-in-all, I've never had a bad hair day in my life. Even after my face and hair had been royally doused with Debbie's vaginal fluids the night before – it still looked great when I crawled out of bed this morning.

I know a lot of people think it's weird, but I call my mother Elaine. I guess because as I was growing up she had always seemed much more like a sister to me than a mother. And since I really wanted a sister and I don't think that she ever wanted to be a mother at all, everything just seemed to work out for the better. Besides, the truth is that she never embraced the parenting role and that was alright with me, since I was fairly independent anyway. I can't even remember when I started calling her Elaine, but I think it was when I was about seven or eight and since she never corrected me it just kinda stuck.

Before I move on, just one last comment about my mom. Elaine has always been pretty candid with me about everything, even the things I have absolutely no desire to know about and even some things I'd prefer never, ever to talk about. For example, for some inexplicable reason she always feels the desperate need to share with me all the intimate details of her sex life with my father. I guess it all stems from the fact that she feels that we're more like sisters than a mother and her daughter, but to me it's always been way too much information. I mean, does anyone ever really want to know those details about your parents?

Anyway, because of the way Elaine is, she has always been very comfortable giving me personal information and in turn asking me some very personal questions, as well. Trust me here, that has never ever bothered me before, since I never had anything ever happen to me that was really worth knowing. Until now, that is.

The unspoken question running through my mind at this very moment was, after all that had happened between me and Debbie last night, should I share any part of that with her? As I considered the far reaching impact of such a question, she smiled down at me with those beautiful emerald eyes and spoke.

"Hey baby, I was worried about you last night. Why didn't you call me and let me know you wouldn't be home until late?"

Although our relationship had precluded any level of modesty between us for many years, I'd have to say that spreading my legs apart - about to shave my pussy, could probably qualify as one of those rare awkward moments between us.

"Sorry Elaine, I was with Ms. Masters and I never imagined that I was going to be home so late. I'll try to remember to call when that happens again, but I'm still getting re-indoctrinated into life at home after being on my own for nearly six years." I said, without directly meeting her gaze.

Elaine didn't process information quickly and I was used to that. She'd often loop back around on something I said earlier when she finally digested it minutes or even days later. It's not that I think my mother is dumb or stupid. I actually think she must have had some sort of learning disability that was never diagnosed when she was younger and she has just learned to cope with it. In some way I always suspected the disability was the primary reason that she changed jobs so often, but how do you ever ask someone a question like that without denigrating them?

She looked down at me with a curious expression, as I was about to start my little project. "Jordan honey, are you about to shave your pussy?"

Ladies, consider for just a moment how you'd ever react to having such a conversation with your mother? Between me and Elaine, however, this was not that different from what I'd been used to since about the seventh grade. The question simply never fazed me, although I admit that if it had been anyone else, my rapier wit would have probably had a field day with that question.

Once again without looking up at her I answered as routinely as I could. "Yes Elaine; I decided last night that it would look sexier shaved."

My mother came into the room and knelt alongside the tub and held out her hand. "Jordan, it's difficult as hell to do a good job on that area by yourself. Your father helps me when I do mine, so let me help you; razor please!"

As Elaine held out her hand for the razor, I realized that I was mildly surprised to learn that she also shaved her pussy. I believe that her disclosure officially meant that I was now the only adult female in the state of Texas who hadn't reached menopause and who still had her pubic hair. It wasn't as bad as starting my junior year at UT as a virgin, something incidentally I'd never admit to a soul, but in my opinion it was a very close second.

I guess I shouldn't have been surprised by the revelation, since my mother dressed and acted like she was still in her twenties. But rather than ever be critical, I'm thankful that my parents are still together and I know first hand from Elaine that they are still sexually active and still crazy about each other, so I guess I'm in favor of whatever it is that works for them.

Actually I was relieved to hand Elaine the disposable razor. I had been wondering how to best do a good job on all those sensitive and hard-to-reach places and her help was going to make it just that much easier for me. As I leaned back and tried to relax I couldn't help but wonder how Debbie handled it by herself. Then it dawned on me that maybe Debbie and I could start shaving each other. I thought that if we incorporated it into our lovemaking, it could actually be a lot fun and very erotic. Mmmmm, what a wonderful and sexy image that generated in my mind's eye, but maybe I was getting just a bit ahead of myself.

Now that I had time to lie back in the tub and think about the whole situation, perhaps in retrospect it all did seem a little strange to have my mother shaving my pubic area. As I was considering the pros and cons of the entire scenario unfolding before my eyes, the whole thing suddenly took an entirely different turn and started to become even stranger.

As a result of the way Elaine was handling me down there I was actually starting to get very turned on. It was almost impossible for her to do what she was doing without the repeated contact and I knew that, but after the six or seven orgasms yesterday my clit was really swollen and hanging out there and she seemed to be making contact with it on every single pass. For a minute I actually considered asking her to watch out for the clit, but I realized that even our open relationship needed some limits.

If I wasn't in the tub at that particular moment my growing arousal level would probably have already been exposed. The way my mother was carefully handling me as she shaved the entire area had me extremely wet. I was also trying to keep my eyes closed and not watch her, since I was afraid that such a sight alone might only make it far worse for me to maintain any semblance of control. So as I closed my eyes and bit my lower lip, my mother continued to shave me, repeatedly making contact with the most sensitive and erotic parts of my body with tender loving care, while chatting away as if the entire scene was perfectly routine.

"So, how's Ms. Masters doing? Your daddy and I were so glad to hear that you'll be working with her." She began the inquiry slowly, but transparently.

I really didn't want to talk, since I was afraid it would cause me to divert my attention, but I also knew that being non-responsive might have only made matters worse for me.

"She's, ahh . . . fine, she's fine." I replied, attempting in vain to conceal the intense stimulation I was now feeling.

Although my eyes were closed I could feel that my response caused Elaine to glance over at me, as I sighed and trembled slightly at the touch of her fingers making contact with my clit for the umpteenth time. I swallowed hard and tried to remain perfectly still, but that was becoming nearly impossible. My mother continued to work slowly and carefully in that area making sure the job was flawless, which of course meant the continued activity down there.

"And so then, you were with Ms. Masters all night?" She asked, without missing a stroke.

Okay, my mother is not terribly clandestine about her tactics so you probably already have a sense of where this is going and you're right. What I failed to mention before is why she was going in that direction.

On one of the nights when Allie was sleeping over, Elaine walked in on us kissing and masturbating each other. I knew she was at the door because my eyes caught the light breaking the seal around the doorway of my dark room and then I saw her silhouette briefly, although thankfully Allie never did or I'm sure I would have lost my best friend.

I remember at the time that I was praying to every deity I knew existed, begging that my mother would exhibit some discretion and not say anything to me until later – much later. I was so relieved when I saw the door finally close many minutes later without incident and Allie was never any the wiser.

Anyway, we had that rare mother and daughter chat about experimenting the next day – I wasn't sure which role I played exactly, and Elaine told me that she was actually okay with it because she said that it's normal for many women to go through such an experimental 'phase.' Okay girls, a show of hands from everyone who has heard a similar line from their parents.

My mother had been doing her best set the stage with her questions and I was pretty sure that she'd be ready to strike soon, but it happened even sooner than I thought it would.

"Is there anything going on between you and Ms. Masters that perhaps you might like to share with me?" She asked curiously, acting like the question had no greater significance to her than anything else she'd ever asked me before.

It seemed to me that Elaine was focusing on the area on and around my clit for a good while or maybe it just felt that way, but I knew I was beyond the point of analyzing it. But the prolonged contact was causing a real emotional tug-of-war within me. On the one hand it felt a little strange to have my mother making me feel this incredible. On the other hand it felt absolutely wonderful and I had mentally reached the point now where there was no way in the world that I was getting out of that tub without having an orgasm.