My girlfriend's mother did not like me. I think she considered me too old for her daughter who was nineteen and had just started university. I was twenty-six, which wasn't that much older, but her mother seemed to want her baby girl's first love to be some pure and innocent freshman.
That ship, however, had long sailed. Ironically, Cassie's first time was taken by a karate teacher at a self-defense class her mother had thought would help her daughter fend off predatory males.
I was sitting in the kitchen, waiting for Cassie to come down for our date, and her mother was hovering around tidying up and giving me the occasional disapproving glance. She was a very attractive woman, in her forties, with sharp features that gave her an aristocratic bearing. Her beautifully tailored clothes made it easy to tell she was slim and well-proportioned.
"So where are you two off to this evening?"
She was very protective of her daughter and had set a curfew of eleven PM, as though that's how you keep your kid from getting up to no good.
I took my time answering, making an assessment of her mood and general attitude. Somewhere between reluctantly tolerant and mildly concerned. She clearly loved her daughter and didn't wish to hamper her blossoming into the wonderful woman she would one day become, but how could she help but fret about what was waiting for her in the outside world? Who could possibly know better about the dangers a young woman faces than an older woman who has already faced them?
I was sympathetic. There are some truly despicable men out there but there are also some who are loving and kind. And then there's me.
"Supposedly, we're going to see a movie that she has already seen with her university friends, so she knows the plot if questioned... but in reality I've booked a room at a hotel where we will have as much sex as we can in the allotted time."
Cassie's mother stopped and looked down her long nose at me, a little startled by my statement. "I beg your pardon?" Her eyes narrowed as her rather luscious lips tightened.
"I don't mean to upset you," I said, "but I don't think you have a very good idea of the kind of person your daughter is."
She walked towards me and pulled a chair out from the rustic (by which I mean expensive) oak kitchen table and sat down, back very straight, her eyes locked on mine.
"Is that so? You think you know her better than her own mother?"
"No. I just know some things you don't. She likes sex and she has a very strong sex drive. She enjoys the pleasures of being with a man and will try pretty much anything at least once, as long as you ask first. And she loves you and doesn't want to disappoint you because she has seen you disappointed and would never wish to see you suffer that kind of pain again."
The pain I referred to was being cheated on by her husband, who had left to start a new family and had discarded the old one. She had the house, which was old and large and worth quite a lot, and it was just the two of them. Cassie lived at home and went to a local university just so her mother would not be left alone.
"Is there a reason you're trying to convince me my daughter's a little whore?" The hostility in her voice was barely in check.
"She isn't a whore. She only ever sees one man at a time. She despises cheating, for the obvious reason. She is very warm and generous with everyone but especially a man she feels safe with. And when she's happy she sleeps with a smile on her face. She is everything you believe her to be, it's just that she is also a lot more."
The hostility had drained from her face and there was a hint of a kindlier emotion. I could tell she recognized the description I had painted for her.
"I know you don't particularly approve of me, but I doubt I'll be with her for that long. She's a free spirit who wishes to taste a lot of different flavors before she settles on her favorite, and I don't judge her for that. It's probably a good idea to do it that way."
I knew from what Cassie had told me that her mother had married young and to the first man she had ever loved. Or thought she loved.
"There will be others after me and some might actually be a little unpleasant. You can't prevent that, it's going to happen and she will suffer... and get over it and become stronger. But if you allow her to be herself under your roof and bring home the men she wants to be with, not only will you get to know her better as she grows and changes, but you will also know where she is and who she's with and if she needs you, you will be close by."
I said all this very plainly, without emotion, like a passing thought. My point wasn't hard to understand, just a bit of a shock for a mother who was trying to deny her daughter's burgeoning womanhood, as all parents are wont to do. But if Cassie was going to do these things anyway, wouldn't it be better if she did them at home?
I looked at her and she held my gaze and we sat there for I don't know how long, neither of us breaking eye contact until Cassie came galloping down the stairs.
"I'm ready. Let's go, let's go, let's go." She came thundering into the kitchen and hugged her mother who smiled and gave no indication of her state of mind. "I don't know how long this movie's gonna be so we might be a tiny bit late."
"Not too late, young lady," said her mother as though it was a joke between them that she had set this curfew that was never enforced and which her daughter always dutifully observed.
Cassie kissed her mother and hurried me down the long hallway. I opened the door to let her out and looked back at the slightly forlorn figure watching from the kitchen, her thin face emphasizing the plumpness of her lips all the more and it was hard not to wonder what it would be like to have those lips locked around the base of my cock.
I drove Cassie to a hotel not too far away. It wasn't very fancy but it was convenient. As soon as we were in our room, we were kissing and undressing and rolling around on the bed naked.
Unlike her mother, Cassie was short and curvy in a way that was gloriously sexy. Her bottom was shaped like a heart and squeezing it in my hands felt so good it was fun in a way that some things just are; like popping bubble wrap. I dare anyone not to grin like a fool with an overflowing handful of that girl's buttocks in each fist. Her breasts were large and round and jutted out like a shelf. So soft you could poke them and press down until you hit bone. And for some reason they tasted like butterscotch. Of course, at nineteen all of her was smooth and silky and when she let down her blonde hair over her creamy white tits, she looked like the dictionary definition of breeding material.
Sex with her was amazing, but so was lying in her arms, fondling and caressing her as she basked in the glow of her orgasms which came so easily you barely had to touch her and she would be gasping and mewling and convulsing inside and out. Truly, she was the joy of sex.
I fucked her in that hotel room and came buckets, if you'll excuse the expression. I came inside her vagina and I came inside her mouth and then I showered with her and roundly buggered her soapy asshole which she always insisted on after every part of her had been thoroughly relaxed through multiple orgasms. There is nothing quite as wonderful as ejaculating inside a woman's rectum as she leans back and pushes her breasts up to be massaged by your soap-lathered hands. In my humble opinion.
We dried ourselves and each other and spent the rest of our time kissing, sometimes mouth and lips, sometimes other bits and pieces.
I took her home and we actually beat the curfew by ten minutes or so. As I walked her up the drive, I said, "Ask your mother if I can stay the night."
Cassie looked shocked and I caught a hint of her mother's face in hers.
"What? Are you crazy?"
"Just ask her. If she says no, cool. Don't make a big thing of it. I just want to see how far I am from ever being allowed to stay over."
Cassie smiled with mouth open and eyes amazed, as though she couldn't fathom the sheer audacity of this crazy bastard. But she closed her mouth and set her jaw with determined resolve. She was not someone to refuse a dare, even one this outrageous.
"Okay. If that's how you want to play this, it's your funeral." She unlocked the door and called out, "We're back."
Her mother leaned into the kitchen doorway like she had spent the intervening time in there, which maybe she had, and waved, feigning nonchalance.
"I'll wait here," I said, standing on the welcome mat.
Cassie grinned. "Coward." She skipped down the hallway and embraced her mother, kissing her on the cheek and then talking in her ear.
Cassie's mother looked over her child's shoulder, down the long hallway like it was the barrel of a gun. Cassie spun around and came bouncing back, a look of wonder on her face.
"She said, yes!"
I nodded and smiled. "Great. Maybe tomorrow."
Cassie's whole countenance shook like an Etch A Sketch, everything wiped. "What do you mean?"
"I'll bring some clothes and a toothbrush. I've got nothing with me. We'll spend the day together, if you want, and the night, too. Do you want to?"
She nodded and smiled and grinned and leaned across the doorway to kiss me, still in shock that somehow a drawbridge had been lowered and the castle was ours for the taking.
"And don't you want the chance to tidy up?"
"No. Why would..." And then she thought about it. "Actually, good idea. Call me tomorrow."
I left with a wave and curiosity about what the two of them would say to each other now. I would guess a continuation of the white lies and well-intentioned deceptions, at least until they had a better idea of what the hell was going on.
The truth was I'd already come three times that evening and my balls were empty. What were we going to do, cuddle for eight hours? The next day was Saturday and it would be good to do something with Cassie other than fuck her. Not because I deemed our relationship superficial but because you can't be too blunt with women about what you want from them. You have to give them a sweet memory or two.
Our Saturday afternoon date was spent wandering around an art gallery. What kind of woman would be impressed by something so pretentious, you might ask. Well, a nineteen-year-old one.
