Okay, okay, okay, I know what you want to hear, but you have to believe me that I never believed anything like this could ever, would ever happen to me...and certainly not to my lovely, wonderful daughters. Even now I blush when I think of that evening, and that's even when I am alone in my own bed. Unfortunately, far from being devastated at my actions, I have become not only trained to behave a certain way, but have thoroughly relished my instruction.
As you are more than aware, my sex life up to the period of this new arrangement had been fabulous. No more missionary-position only with Mr Big, he would take me any time he pleased and I was more than pleased that he did.
Not that I'm some sort of tart you understand, he didn't 'shag me over the frozen peas in a supermarket', as I remembered hearing or maybe reading about some time ago. No, it's just the way he makes me feel, all edgy and jittery, his wandering hands seeking out my most tender spots at the most compromising of times, or tracing the outline of my underwear discretely while we're in company.
This is normally done as he runs his fingers up my spine to my shoulder blades or while he nuzzles my neck, (he loves to nuzzle my neck) which as he is well aware, is a weakness of mine to begin with, but then he starts whispering about what he intends to do to me later and my knees turn to jelly and my panties begin to feel too tight and I worry that my pussy will stain my dress or skirt, (he doesn't allow me to wear trousers anymore) while someone else held the floor and half the time I can't even remember the thread of the conversation, which gives my girlfriends a good giggle at least.
So what can I say about
that night
? I now know that it was inevitable, an incident just waiting to happen, brought about by my weakness, my man's lust and my eldest daughters deepest sexual desires.
She had been on my case from the off, always niggling, always picking at him behind his back and cutting her eyes or making stupid smug and snide remarks that I had found harder and harder to take. What I now know is that like my youngest daughter, she had spotted the tell-tale bulge in his trousers from his first visit, and she had been jealously horny from that evening up to her eventual sexing.
It hadn't helped that during the period we had dated I had also dropped a dress size, from 14 t o12 while to my delight, I increased my already generous bust from a 36D to a thrilling 36DD, a feat that gave him so much joy that he had swung into the air and told me how proud he was of my achievement, before he excused us from the scowling Laura and stripped me on the way to my room where and gave me the pleasure of his thick nine inches which seemed to throb with extra vitality at the good news, before filling me with one of the greatest loads of semen I have ever taken left me in a thick puddle of cum .
And which, I suppose, brings us to that amazing night.
He had come over that evening with a couple of bottles of wine and a takeaway that both girls helped themselves to and had enjoyed, but now, while Lindsay had gone to her room, Laura decided that she was going to play gooseberry as usual and sat sprawled in an armchair, her legs dangling over the arm while we snuggled up on the sofa.
If she'd tutted once at us, she must tutted fifty times as he smelled my hair, kissed the nape of my neck and stroked the side of my breast. Honestly I was breathing so deeply and my new bra was under so much pressure, I closed my eyes and began to dream of an E cup.
The next programme we had asked to watch was a documentary on woman beaters and beaten women.
Truly there were some terrible cases. One woman had been thrashed with a rope for merely talking to her mother on the phone too long, while another had joked with a delivery man and had lost her front teeth for her troubles.
At some point He had joked about some of the women deserved it and how He had also had to correct a couple of his ladies who had misbehaved in some way, shape or form and had needed their bottoms spanking hard, which I mildly chastised him about, but for some reason, Laura just lost it!
Back and forth they'd rowed, the comments getting nastier and more barbed by the minute and I watched his eyes, normally, quizzical or amused, harden the more that she raged.
We would find out later that they weren't the only thing to harden that night.
As the row reached a crescendo, (I had given up trying to placate them) I covered my ears and screamed at them to stop and one of the last things I remember before everything just went crazy, was seeing her polka-dot socks swing off the arm of the chair and thud down onto the carpet as she threw herself out of her chair.
She'd fairly flown across the room and planted herself before him, one hand on her nonexistent hips, the other pointing a finger into his face from beneath the thick Aaron sweater, a gift from her ex boyfriend that hung off her slight frame and half way down her thighs, to her baggy, grungy jeans, so typical of a student and her long brown hair, framing her pretty if puce features.
I have to say, at this point I normally try to play peace-maker, but this time I was pleased to see him stand up to my little firebrand of a daughter who for all her slight, size 8 figure, never gave an inch on her principles and never ever gave way on a standpoint she believed was hers to defend. She'd make a wonderful trial lawyer, I remember thinking, just before I saw his features darken and obviously tiring of the debate, he leant forward grabbed two fistfuls of her loose fitting jeans and pulled down hard.
I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
