Really?

Growing up I, Cheryl Sanders, always knew that my parents were flakes. My parents, Winston Sanders and Muriel Smith (why my mother kept her maiden name when she married my father only she really knows since the explanations have changed over the years), are both very good looking, but they are both lacking in many parenting skills, and don't seem to have any common sense. Our family prospered financially primarily because my father had a large trust fund from his extremely wealthy grandparents.

As a result of my parents' poor parenting skills and wacky personalities, my older brother turned out to be pretty much worthless. I survived and achieved only because I had a very close relationship with my maternal grandmother and an aunt on my mother's side of the family (my mother's older sister).

Both my grandmother and aunt had good heads on their shoulders, and couldn't understand my mother any better than I could. Growing up, from the age of seven I talked with each of them on the phone at least twice and week, and went to visit them (they lived near each other about 900 miles from where I started High School) as often as I could. I even finagled living with my aunt while attending my junior and senior years of High School, something that pissed my mother off but that she finally agreed to because it gave me a better chance of getting into a prestigious college – something both my parents were interested in to build up their egos, especially since my brother was a drop-out (and not one like Bill Gates).

However, my parents were insistent that I spend the summer between my junior and senior years of High School, when I was eighteen, at home. Since I was ambitious I got a challenging summer job.

At that point in time, my mother and father seemed to be living fairly separate lives. I didn't want to know the details of their relationship, however so I never inquired about it. They both seemed happy to have me around and did things with me (although usually separately) again probably because my grades and other achievements (including being a third team High School All-American volleyball player) gave them bragging rights with their country club friends.

Just by being around – not intentionally eavesdropping – I learned a few things about my parents I would rather not have. The only one relevant to this story, however, was a phone conversation my mother had with Joyce, one of her country club friends. The side of the conversation that I overheard went something like this:

"My god, Joyce, this dreamy new 19 year old kid who is going to be a senior at the local High School has moved into our area and is working as a mailman this summer..."

"Yes, I'm calling you for some tricks on how to get him into the sack, you evil little bitch, Joyce (laughter)..."

"Of course I'm serious. My pussy hasn't had a really good workout for longer than I care to remember (groan)..."

"Well, that might work (giggle)..."

"Oh, I like that idea even better – send a certified letter to myself that I have to sign for and answer the door in my skimpiest bikini (laughter)...I knew you'd have the answer for me you little tramp (giggle)..."

I hoped that Muriel wasn't serious, but even if it was a joke I sure as hell didn't want to hear any more – I might throw up.

**************

About three weeks after the overheard phone conversation between Muriel and Joyce on a Sunday morning when my father was playing golf, and when I was supposed to be at an amusement park with some of my friends, life changed after my plans fell through. The driver's car had broken down and by the time that we arranged for a tow and another car, my friends and I lost interest. We planned to meet at the community pool instead.

As I entered my house to get my swimsuit, I heard a series of slaps, grunts, and moans. I surreptitiously sneaked around to our sunroom. Unseen, I viewed my mother on her hands and knees on the well-padded rug in the sunroom squealing like a pig as the most sinewy tall muscular young dude that I had ever seen in my life was obviously vigorously doing her doggy while grunting like a jalopy trying to climb Mount Washington. My mother's ponderous tits were slapping into each other making a sound like an ass being paddled as the muscular dude was pounding her pussy and his long light-colored hair was flying all over the place.

I was mesmerized. At that point in time I had only had sex a couple of times, with a condom, and quite honestly it wasn't that enjoyable. What I was witnessing was pure unadulterated animal fucking that was so plasma hot that it was causing my pussy to leak like a sieve. In fact it was so hot that when the muscular dude bent over and grabbed Muriel's tits and squeezed them as he obviously was unloading into her cunt I closed my eyes, leaned against the nearest wall, and for the first time in my life had a spontaneous orgasm. While it wasn't an overpowering one, it definitely was an orgasm, almost as powerful as any I had had with a dildo.

When I recovered, opened my eyes, and regained enough awareness to peek around the corner into the sunroom, my mother had turned around and was cleaning her juices off his still hard massive cock. I was so fixated on his cock that I didn't notice the profile of his face, which was primarily covered with hair anyway. When I saw my mother open her eyes and look up at him I decided that it was time to scram lest I be seen.

As I quietly got my swimsuit and hustled out of the house I had a wide range of emotions. While I was disgusted that my mother was cheating on my father, I was strangely grateful that she at least had what appeared to be a perfect sex partner. Despite my disgust with my mother I grudgingly had to admit that it was by far the most erotic thing that I had ever seen in my life. In fact it was so steamy that I realized that I was jealous, and needed to get laid myself.

Given my condition when I got to the pool, for the first time I was receptive to the advances of a college guy who was working there. I met him early that evening at the apartment he was renting for the summer in an adjacent town. I insisted that he do me doggy, and even though it was with a condom the picture in my brain of my mother being pummeled so fiercely by the tall muscular long-haired dude so overwhelmed me that I had my first real orgasm in my life as a result of penile penetration.

When I got home that night my mother had the biggest shit-eating smile on her face that I could remember her having; and my father was also in a great mood. They were more lovey-dovey than I had seen them all summer, which added to my angst.

After that night I was in a quandary for the rest of the summer as to whether or not I should confront my mother and/or tell my father, but decided against both. I wasn't sure what good it would do, and to be honest, for whatever reason, the rest of the summer my parents were more affectionate toward each other and me than I could remember.

Go figure!

****************

It took a year or so before the video in my brain of my mother's apparently all-time fuck dissipated. By the end of the summer while it still strongly replayed in my mind it didn't cause me to go out and get laid as often as possible. However, without the inspiration of that video in my brain I did have what probably would be considered a normal sex life for a healthy reasonably good looking student.

Much to my parents' joy and pride I not only got into one of the three most prestigious universities in the country that had all Division I athletic programs, but I got a full volleyball scholarship. Even though I didn't have any strong romantic interest I was thoroughly enjoying college. One thing that was especially nice was that at my university all scholarship athletes – men and women – ate in the same dining establishment, which made for some pleasant interactions and some good-natured ogling and flirting.

My junior year a guy transferred to our University from another school. Shortly after classes started I saw him in the dining room. He looked to be about six feet six inches tall with a lean build, short dirty blond hair, and blue eyes (not that I noticed) so I assumed that he was a basketball player even though his arms had more muscle definition than any other basketball player I had seen in High School or college. About the fifth or sixth meal that he ate in the dining room he, Jerry, and Quint, two football players he was with, sat at the table where I was eating with two female soccer players and a male wrestler. All four of us at the table already knew Jerry and Quint and they introduced the new guy to us as Brad Milton. Brad sat next to me after shaking my hand with the strongest yet most gentle grip that I had ever experienced.

After a few pleasantries between bites of grilled chicken and assorted vegetables I said "So, Brad, are you on a basketball scholarship?'

He smiled, and his two buddies chuckled. "Everybody asks me that," he replied, "but no, I'm a football player."

I was a little surprised but trying to show my knowledge of football body types said "So you're a wide receiver?"

"Hell no," Jerry, who was a six four 300 pound offense lineman, chuckled, "he's our new staring strong side defensive end."

I was startled but started to ask a follow-up question to try to save face when one of the soccer players chimed in "I don't believe it – you couldn't weigh more than 230 pounds and there are no Division I 230 pound defensive ends."

"Actually, I weigh 226, and I do in fact play defensive end," Brad laughed.

"He can bench press more than anyone else on the team," Quint rang in; "he's the second coming of Fred Dryer – that's why we call him 'Fred' out on the field."

"Who the hell is Fred Dryer?" the other soccer player asked, saving me the embarrassment.

Sounding like he was quoting a Wikipedia page Jerry announced "Fred Dryer is a college football hall of fame inductee who played in the NFL from 1969-1982 as a defensive end, most notably with the Los Angeles Rams. He was All-Pro several years and is the only player in NFL history to have two safeties in a single game. While playing defensive end in the pros he was six-six, and the strongest guy on the Rams despite weighing only about 225, just like our buddy Brad, here."

A lively discussion ensued – with Brad simply smiling while he was eating – until the four of us who had been at the table before the football jocks arrived believed what Jerry said. One of the female soccer players went over to feel Brad's biceps and shoulders, eliciting a big smile from him. "He's like a fucking steel cable," she exclaimed, causing laughs all around.

***************

Brad and I became very friendly. Because of his time commitment for football in the fall, and mine for volleyball in the winter, we didn't actually date until the spring, but we did go out in a group about a half a dozen times to concerts, dinners, or other athletic events at our university. It was obvious that we had a mutual attraction.

Brad was living in an off-campus apartment with Quint when we started one-on-one dating. Being with him one-on-one I felt a sexual attraction toward him far more intense than any I had ever felt before in my life; it appeared that the attraction was mutual. The mutual attraction was so intense that at the start of our third date when he picked me up Saturday late afternoon Brad asked "What would you like to do, Cheryl? We can go to the free concert on the quad and then to Ziggy's for dinner; or we can go to my apartment and play video games – Quint is gone for the weekend."

I knew damn well that Brad didn't play video games, and he knew that I didn't. My pussy started leaking when he put his arm around my waist. "Uh...yeah...well...let's go, uh, to your digs," I stuttered, sure that I was blushing.

Within ten minutes of entering Brad's apartment we were naked. Despite the fact that I'm a pretty big girl (5 feet 11 inches tall, 150 pounds) he picked me up like I weighed nothing as he sat on a couch, and eased my soaking wet cooch onto his upright massive cock. The thought of using a condom for safety (I was on the pill so hopefully pregnancy was off the table) never even crossed my mine.

As I massaged his shoulders and arms while bouncing up and down on his steel shaft and he sucked my tits while squeezing my ass, we occasionally used our mouths to exchange passionate kisses. When he came in me – my first non-condom fuck of my life – it was like a Roman candle going off. I involuntarily let out a scream loud enough to wake the dead as my pussy clamped down hard on his fire-hosing cock. I swear that it was a good ten minutes before we came down from our orgasms.

Aside from unintelligible comments and moans, the first words we actually exchanged after our climaxes were "Holy shit, you're all-time!" from him, and a retort "How the hell did you remove my spine without a scalpel," from me.

After a few more minutes exchanging expressions of satisfaction, he stood up from the couch, lifting me at the same time, and carried me to his bed. After we exchanged kisses for a while the lack of a condom suddenly snapped into my mind.

"Uh, Brad – we didn't use protection," I mused.

"Aren't you on the pill?" he replied.

"Yeah, but no protection for STDs," I countered.

"While I don't have any and I'm sure that you don't either, to be sure after classes Monday we'll both go to the health center and get checked out. I want completely unencumbered sex with you – Aphrodite – for the foreseeable future," he smiled.

"Sounds like a plan," I chuckled as I shinned down and started sucking the thick beautiful appendage with a perfect aspect ratio between his legs, as he groaned in pleasure.

We did eat, and sleep, some that weekend, but I couldn't tell you any details for the life of me. What I do remember, however, was him sucking my tits raw, fucking my pussy into oblivion, and me luxuriating in feeling his strong muscular body while worshipping his cock and heavy testicles. We didn't get any homework done, that's for sure.

The STD tests turned out to be negative, and we fucked each other senseless for the rest of spring quarter, taking time out only to eat, sleep (some), keep up with our studies, and work out in the gym. We both were lucky that our grades suffered only slightly during spring quarter.

***************

I didn't go home the summer between my junior and senior years in college. Rather, since Quint was gone for the summer, I moved in with Brad. We both had summer jobs and volunteer work, but we had plenty of time for fucking and sucking, which we did as often as possible. Not only was it the best time of my life sexually, but we really seemed to click on an emotional level. We were both anxious to please each other not only during sex but during life.

We learned a lot about each other. Brad had been born in California but lived his junior year in High School in Oregon, and his senior year he lived just two suburbs over from where my parents lived in the High School that was the big rival to the one I attended my freshmen and sophomore years. He was no dumb jock; he intended to be a chemist and took college courses the summers before his junior and senior years in High School while working part time at United Parcel Service. Because of his summer courses despite the time commitment that football required he was on track to graduate with me the next spring with a B. S. in chemistry and a minor in chemical engineering. While he was probably the best defensive player on our University's football team, our team wasn't that good and in any event he had no delusions about playing in the NFL, nor, apparently, any interest. What I also liked about Brad was his interest in helping others. He had volunteered for many worthwhile causes, as had I, throughout High School and college.

Once school started I reluctantly moved back to my sorority house and our sexual gymnastics became infrequent during the football and volleyball seasons.

Of course I went to all of the home football games, including two with Brad's parents. Brad's mom Ellen – who herself had played volleyball in High School and on the beach in California – and I hit it off immediately. In fact she seemed as pleasant and level-headed as my aunt, not flaky like my mother. Brad's dad Jim was a big guy – a little shorter than Brad but probably twenty pounds heavier, and it didn't look much like fat. Jim seemed pleased that I was dating his son and in my presence told Brad that "Cheryl's a keeper."

Brad also came to all of my home volleyball games. Because of the distance involved, and because I played two conference games in the city near where my parents lived, they rarely came to my home games although they never missed a game within 90 miles of their house. My parents did come to my last home game my senior year, however, and before the game I introduced them to Brad.

"Brad Milton, this is my dad Winston Sanders and my mom Muriel Smith," I said with a big grin on my face. My dad enthusiastically shook Brad's hand also with a big smile. Both Brad and Muriel had strange looks on their faces as they shook hands, but shortly thereafter Muriel smiled and said "I'm so glad that you've captured Cheryl's heart."

"Mom," I giggled.

Brad grinned and put his arm around me.

Brad begged off going out to dinner with my parents after the game which kind of surprised me, although his reason seemed legitimate and not a lame excuse.

Once spring semester started since both Brad and I had completed all of our required coursework and only had independent studies or labs we got an apartment together and resumed our intense sexual and emotional relationship. A week before graduation while reverse cowgirl I was bouncing up and down on Brad's upright flagpole while squeezing and releasing my pc muscles, supporting myself with one hand on his muscular thigh, and massaging his testicles with my free hand, and he was reciprocating two fingers in my pucker hole, I had an orgasm as powerful as any in my life (all with Brad, of course), and he let out the longest and lowest bass grunt I've ever heard followed up with a string of "holy shits."

After we both recovered from our over-the-top climaxes Brad pulled me to him and grunted more than said "Marry me Cheryl, please marry me. I know this isn't a romantic way to ask you, but a truly lustful way. Please say yes."

I got an evil grin on my face; how could I say "no" after just being sent to nirvana; but I wanted to play it cool. "If I say 'yes' what will you do for me?"

Brad leaned over to the nightstand, opened the drawer, pulled out a little purple box and opened it revealing a diamond engagement ring much larger than I knew that he could afford. "Ellen must have given him the money," I chuckled to myself since all of my contacts with Brad's mom indicated that she was angling for a permanent union between us.

"If you say 'yes' I'll slip this ring on your finger and then suck your clit until you pass out," was Brad's retort with a grin as sinful as my own.

"Yes," I giggled, holding out my left hand.

Putting the ring on my finger only took a few seconds. It took twenty minutes, however, before I passed out from sensory overload as he sucked and licked my clit, pinched my labia, and stimulated my G-spot.

************

Not wanting to waste time, Brad and I got married in a simple ceremony with a reception in a hotel ballroom only a month after graduation. My mother was essentially worthless in assisting with plans for the wedding, but my grandmother, aunt, and Ellen were all completely on-board and helpful, especially Ellen. My father had no qualms about paying the fare especially since we kept the guest list small and it cost him only half of what he was expecting.