The day was bright and sunny and I was feeling great. My husband had just finished mowing the lawn and I just love the smell of freshly cut grass and I loved life. I was standing at the kitchen sink cleaning up after a relaxed weekend meal with my family as I idly watched my daughter play in the pool with one of her boy friends. The sun was creating sparkles on the surface of the water and the sound of two young people was carried into the house on the gentle breeze. The graceful movements of my daughter caught my eye. There was something about the way she moved that held my attention and it came as a shock to me to realise what it was. She was oozing sex appeal. She was teasing the young man mercilessly in a grown up sexual way and she seemed to be enjoying every minute of it.
That was the moment that I saw my little girl in a different light. It was like the shutters had suddenly been lifted. She had grown up. It seems that she had progressed from innocent young girl into a mature sexual woman in the flash of an eye. It was one of those mother things – all of a sudden you see your child in a different light. I was shocked to see just how my daughter had grown into a beautiful young woman and I had just become aware of it. She was no longer my little girl but a young woman.
It was also obvious that she was very aware of her body and that she was intentionally provoking the young man making playful but sexy contact with him at every opportunity. With a start I knew that I was looking at a younger version of myself and I knew that I needed to talk with my child about grown up matters. She definitely reminded me of me and, if she was anything like me, it was certain that if she would be sexually active very soon if she wasn't already. I shook my head as if to clear my mind, amazed that I hadn't seen it before. Maybe it was the way she was carrying herself in the presence of the boy, I don't know but it was definitely time to talk with her about birth control.
My thoughts drifted back to my younger days and I felt a smile form on my face as I recalled my activities. As a teenager I had been sexually active, very active, and I had been extremely lucky. Somehow I hadn't become pregnant and if my daughter was going to engage in sexual activity the way I did then she definitely needed to take precautions.
Then came the questions. Did I want her to be as sexually liberated and uninhibited as I was and am? Did I want her to be as promiscuous as I was? Did she know about my 'other' life? Just what was her attitude to sex?
As I observed her in action I could see that these questions needed to be addressed with a degree of urgency.
As these thoughts permeated my mind I turned the tap on full and water spurted from the tap into the sink causing the detergent to foam forming bubbles and a pleasant aroma of lemons. I watched the bubbles and remembered my first experience of sex. It was an event that had been like turning on a tap because sex for me flowed freely from that day. I had made a deliberate decision and once I had tasted it I didn't want it to stop because I loved it.
This first experience taught me many things. 1. Boys loved sex. 2. I loved sex and 3. I loved pleasing boys. I also quickly learned that I loved giving my body to them for their pleasure. If sex pleased boys and all forms of sex pleased me then I could see no reason not to engage in sex as often as I wanted. It also didn't take me long to know that sex is powerful and that I could use it to get what I wanted - and I did.
Lost in my memories I played with the bubbles imagining what it had been like to hold my first live penis. I remembered flirting with my first lover in a way very much the same as my daughter was and I wondered if my mother ever watched me and felt the same. I smiled warmly as I thought of my mother and I recalled the time I caught her in bed with a man who wasn't my father. A deliciously naughty feeling invaded my body as I relived the scene. My mother, naked, was facing the door of her bedroom sitting astride a man impaled on his cock. When I opened the door her eyes locked onto mine open wide in shock and I beat a hasty retreat. I was in my late teens at the time but I eased my mother's concerns by suggesting that she make sure that she continued to enjoy herself. The incident was never mentioned again but I knew that she frequently invited other men into her bed. I have a sneaky suspicion that my father knew about her extramarital sexual activities.
Sex had played a major part in my life then and it still does today. My husband George and I have an unconventional attitude to sex to say the least and I'm sure my children have picked up on that through the years.
So, did I want her to be like me? Well if she was anything like me I knew there was nothing that I could do to stop her even if I wanted to. She would make up her own mind as I did. The bottom line is simple. There was and still is nothing that will stop me enjoying the type and amount of sex I have. I believe that I was made a woman to serve and please men sexually. I know that this is not popular attitude to hold today but it's the attitude I have. It works for me and brings great pleasure to George and myself. The thought of men using my body for their own satisfaction turns me on and when I'm in a situation when it's about to happen I get wet instantly. There is no sex act I won't do for a man and it turns me on when they know that. I am lucky because my husband also like to share me with other men.
We have two lives. One is the successful happy average family. People know me as a typical 'soccer mom.' I attend school functions and I love my children and my husband passionately. However, my husband and I have other needs. These needs are seen to be abnormal by many although more and more people are beginning to openly admit to enjoying a similar lifestyle.
My gaze returned to my daughter and her antics and I recalled my first early years as a budding and growing young female.
The 'in' group at school consisted of ten or twelve guys a couple of years older than myself. They had girls hanging off their arms at all times and they all played for one of the schools sporting teams. I don't recall any of them being on the school's debating team.
They were all very good looking, cock sure of themselves, self centered and quite arrogant. My family had moved into the area recently and I had started going to the school late the previous year. After a few months I had identified the leading members of the group and managed to be accepted as a fringe member, a situation I enjoyed courtesy of my well-developed tits. Also I never attempted to be coy and I'm sure my body language communicated the fact that I was interested in sex and most important that I was approachable. I think I was constantly making a silent statement that said, "I'm fuckable,"
Most of the boys were a couple of years older than I was and while they sensed my approachability and in spite of their self assured front they were unsure. As for the girls they definitely knew more about me than I did at that stage. They recognised a competitor and they knew that I was available and willing, even anxious, to let the boys have their way with me. They were openly rude and nasty to me making it very clear that I wasn't welcome.
I was aware that they didn't like me and I didn't care. It wasn't them I wanted to please. I was actually quiet innocent and naive at that time but I knew what I wanted and had a plan to get it. I was going to take advantage of my extremely strong desire to explore sex. I thought about it all the time, in class, in bed, and while talking with my girl friends. One of those girls had discovered some adult magazines in her parent's bedroom and these made for enlightening reading. I loved the pictures but the stories and letters also grabbed my attention. I wasn't the only girl to be obsessed with sex after all. Sex was always with me mentally and physically. During classes I would frequently think about the stories and pictures and a now familiar tingling sensation would start between my legs. It was an itch that needed urgent attention.
One day one of the boys finally got the message and the nerve to find out if I was truly available. After school he approached me and asked if I would like him to walk me home. I was thrilled and accepted without hesitation instinctively knowing that this boy was going to try his luck with me. This was confirmed by his next question.
"Renee are your parents home?" It wasn't the most creative approach but it was functional.
Even though I had read, talked and dreamed of this moment for what seemed like forever I still felt the blood rush to my face.
