I was really scared and I suppose I should have been. After all, what is an 18 year old daughter doing under her single mom's bed in the middle of the night?
I had gotten home about an hour ago, at midnight, from a very unhappy date with the latest guy whose only idea was to see how far he could get. My mother, Margaret Smithers, despite saying she would be back early from a party, was nowhere in the house. Another reason to be po'd. What good are parents who don't keep their word?
I suspected what was going on. She had a new man friend, Brian Kelso, and was acting strange. Strange like she might marry him. Last weekend, after I got permission for a sleepover with the soccer team, she announced she might not be home herself, but I could call her cell if anything came up.
I stared at her, "Mom, you're not..."
"Pamela, you are eighteen now. We have an agreement not to interfere with each other's love life. Isn't that right?"
I said silently to myself, don't be nasty, and dashed into her arms with a hug and a kiss and a "Have fun!" as I flew out the door.
Tonight, my tipsy brain said she was going to let Brian in her bed. Why not get close to the action? It would serve her right to have a daughter spying the first time the new boyfriend is allowed into her boudoir.
By one o'clock, I'd been under the bed in my nighty for almost an hour and was getting damn cold. It was an old fashioned bed she had inherited from her grandmother, and there was a comfortable but chilly space under it.
Too chilly. I popped out to the closet to grab a comforter, and sure enough, the front door opened and closed. Steps climbed the stairs and I heard Mom say, as I scrambled back under the bed, "Good, Pam's not home yet. We can enjoy ourselves, Brian."
I saw feet from my perch under the bed. Feet facing each other, very close together. Smacking noises and then his voice asking, "What about a hot shower? Warm us up."
She hummed as clothes items dropped to the floor. Even their underwear. I heard another smack, but it was his hand on her rear. "Brian!"
I was warmed up myself with the comforter, and wondered how hot the sex was going to be. The chances that Brian was here just to sleep were nil, I guessed. Unless maybe he had too much to drink and couldn't perform. A stray thought went through my brain, which wasn't very tipsy anymore, but getting worried. Did the risk of getting caught under here justify finding out how much of a stud my possible new stepfather was?
They walked back into the room, dropping towels on the floor. I saw her feet disappear in the air with a big giggle. "Brian, stop!"
"Maggie, you are the hottest thing. After last weekend, I really want to get to know you better."
"Brian, I can't even remember how many times that big thing of yours was in me last week. You kept getting hard, and I kept wanting and needing you and..."
The mattress and box spring above me took a sudden lurch and Mom screamed, "Oh fuck, YES!"
I don't know whether it was booze or what that set them off, but the headboard started hitting the wall. Brian was making little grunts every time he banged Maggie, and she was moaning and wailing and coming. I could hear her slapping his ass and asking for more.
I didn't need the comforter any more. I was hotter than a pistol. If Brian was half as good as he sounded, I really needed that cock in me. All of the guys my age I had let into my panties were duds. Never had an orgasm with any of them. Not even close. Now, just listening to Mom and Brian had me almost there. Maybe this talk about older men who knew how to take care of a woman was true.
The action overhead was peaking. Mom let out a terrible scream and moaned, "Yes, yes, yes."
The knocks against the wall were quieting down and Brian said, "Maggie, that was good. Really good."
Mom was all fixed up. She said, "Brian, turn out the light and stay with me."
