Was that the stairs creaking I wondered just as I was dozing off? Was it? No it couldn't be, I told myself, my desire to go to sleep outweighing my curiosity. I heard it again. It definitely was the stairs creaking.
Open staircases are prone to making noises as they are used. In my very modern flat where the walnut wooden stairs start in the large lounge and rise up to the mezzanine floor the slightest sound seems magnified. But then if most of the space is taken up by the hard surfaces of the floor to ceiling glass doors, dark grey tiling floors and charcoal coloured steel arms and legs of the furniture, it's to be expected. I really should have listened more closely to the interior designer instead of wondering what she would look like naked.
I heard it again and knew for certain that it was the stairs. There was one creak after another as obviously he made his way up the fourteen stairs.
My bedroom was on the top floor. In fact that and a lovely secluded balcony that was accessed through the floor to ceiling windows on two sides of the room was the top floor. Well along with a big wet room with a deep kidney shaped sunken bath and two showers and a dressing room.
The creaking stopped. That told me he had got to the mezzanine floor. I heard a door open and then close. There are three rooms on that floor. A small bedroom that I use as a gym, a tiny box room I use for storage and a reasonable sized bedroom. It was the door of that I had heard open and close. And that bedroom is where my daughter stays when she is home from university as she was now. And it was that bedroom that her boy-friend had just entered.
The idea of my eighteen year old daughter being fucked just yards from where I lie naked in bed concerned me. But it also excited me.
There were no more noises, but I lie awake for some time. Without realising it I had cupped one of my breasts. The nipple was fiercely hard, it was like an acorn. I squeezed it. Both of my nipples were aching and my D cup breasts felt so full and heavy. A heat travelling from the pit of my stomach was filling my body. My skin was tingling and I was wet. I couldn't believe what the thought of my daughter having sex was doing this to me. But then as I masturbated and made myself cum I rationalised that not having been with a man for six or seven months plays strange tricks on a forty five year old, divorced woman.
*
I knew that I had to have it out with her. Although we were very close and had become more so after the divorce three years aog, since when we have lived together in my London Docklands flat, I knew it would be difficult. It was.
"Oh come on mum, get serious" was her reply when I said I heard Jack going to her room last night. "I am nearly nineteen and at uni."
She was right. I had to let her grow up and having sex was part of that. After all I was at her age.
We chatted about it for some time and I lost on every count.
"Good night mum," Sara said around eleven that night. "We're going up we've got an early start tomorrow."
She gave me a kiss as Jack said. "Goodnight Amanda" looking me in the eye and smiling, his thanks I assumed.
I went up shortly after. I undressed slipped into a floor-length, pale pink, silk dressing gown and took the glass of wine I had brought with me out onto the big balcony. Although we were into mid-September it was quite pleasant. I love standing or sitting there seeing the Thames in one direction, the tall buildings of Canary wharf in another and the lights of London in the third. I sometimes read for a while as I sip a glass of wine. Tonight there was no way I could read, my mind was buzzing too much with the thought of my daughter and Jack in bed together. I was wondering if I had been wrong giving in so easily. Maybe I was making it too easy for her, but then I had no control over what she does at uni. I kept vacillating. Just because she can do as she wishes when she's away there was no reasons for her mother almost aiding and abetting her get laid, I was thinking. I was contradicting that almost immediately, however, by suggesting to myself that girls at nineteen nowadays are no longer girls, they are women. I would add to that by recalling that at the same age as Sara, I'd had sex with four different guys and had experienced my first taste of other women.
As I finished my wine with these thoughts running through my mind so I found myself becoming aroused. My hand slipped inside my dressing gown and found my boob. I squeezed it as images of Sara with Jack came into my mind. This is fucking terrible I said to myself as my other hand slid between my legs. I 'saw' Sara kneeling on the floor, Jack sitting on the bed naked, my daughter holding his full erection, pulling it so it was nearly horizontal and then taking his nicely sized cock right into her mouth. I stopped myself and went inside to my bedroom. I dropped the robe on a chair and got into bed naked.
I just couldn't get Sara and Jack out of my mind. I had to fight myself hard to stop getting up and going onto the landing and listening for any sounds of them having sex. I didn't though, but I couldn't resist masturbating and quickly I made myself cum just as I imagined my 'baby' groaning her ecstatic pleasure as Jack gave her an orgasm.
*
I had borrowed a friend's apartment in Juan les Pins in the South of France for a few days and was taking Sara and Jack there before she went back to uni.
Jack was a professional footballer. Although he was a London boy he played for a team in Birmingham called Aston Villa, a premier league club. He obviously wasn't a first team player being only nineteen, but had been in the first team squad a few times until he got injured playing for one of the youth teams. He had a ligament problem and wouldn't be playing for a few months, hence his frequent visits to Sara and him coming away with us.
Sara and I had been to the apartment several times before. It was quite luxurious and the complex had a nice pool.
"Well I'm for a swim" Jack said sliding his shorts down and pulling his tee shirt off. He stood up. "You coming Sara?"
"No I've just put my sun cream on."
"Amanda?"
"Not right now Jack" I replied looking up.
I was sitting in a chair with Sara beside me lying face down on a sun bed. Jack was standing a few feet in front of me looking towards us. I was wearing a white bikini, which because I was in one of those times when I had put weight on, was slightly too small for me. I shouldn't really have been wearing it for my tits that bloat up to DD when I add weight were almost tumbling out of the cups. Through my fashionably large dark glasses I saw that Jack was staring, but I wasn't sure whether it was at his girl-friend's bum, at me or at them.
What I did know, though, was that he had a fantastic body and that in his tiny Speedo shorts he looked to be hugely well-endowed. As I looked at him I felt a surge of arousal.
"Ok, by myself then" he said turning, looking over his shoulder at me, winking and saying. "You sure I can't tempt you Amanda."
"No" I retorted probably a little too sharply.
"Ok" Jack smiled walking away from his beautifully pert bum seeming to sway and wiggle far more than usual. Was he putting that on for me I wondered as I watched him dive gracefully into the pool and swim powerfully to the far end. Trying to make it look as if I was reading my Kindle I watched through the dark glasses as he cut through the water doing a quick ten lengths or so.
"He's a good swimmer Sara."
"Yes mum, he's good at most things" she replied laughing, for some reason making me feel as if she meant sex included.
Without thinking really I idly said as I watched him climb out of the pool and walk over to us. "Yes I imagine he would be."
He picked up a towel and again standing facing me he dried his body.
"That was great you two should really try it."
"I will later, but I'm not a good swimmer like you" I told him unwisely adding. "I only do the breast stroke.
