Mom Frenches Daughter As 1900 Watch.
Author's note:
Being male, as close as I got to this story personally, was the location of the story's end, an RV. I am interested in feedback because it was challenging to become a vagina carrying person to write this story. It kept slipping to 'first-person' as the writer instead of being Carla, and my brain wouldn't accept the concept at all.
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"My God! I won! How can it be? I have never looked as ordinary, nor have I been so unsure in any of these pageants." Carla remarked to herself when walking forward on the stage to accept the First Place Crown in the 'Miss 18 Year Old Of Boulder.'
My mom, brother, grandparents, and pastor were all there to watch the pageant. Competing since 2001, I was now in a jamb because I'd turned 18 the night before, and my family had a family dinner and gift night planned for me. But I was exhausted.
When the judge, Mrs. Wrong had asked me, "Have you decided to postpone your college work to be able to meet the challenges and responsibilities of the pageant winner?
"I have arranged with the college to be able to do both, my college work, and the work as this pageant winner," I answered.
The official duty will be to greet international skiers and players as they come to the Rockies to train. I will have an entire winter and summer sports wardrobe, an expense account, and be paid per diem as I work through the year as 'Miss 18 Year Old Of Boulder.' The brewery in Golden endorsed the tournament, which means I will be doing some publicity at the brewery, as well as being a passenger on the horse-drawn beer hauling coach in the Rose Parade.
I will be going to Hawaii to appear in the Pro Bowl halftime show for the NFL, and when the Stanley Cup rolls around, I will be in attendance for the brewers' mascot competition that week.
My mom was the first on the stage to greet me after my presentation to the audience of some nineteen hundred people. I expected the usual peck on the cheek and a tight hug. My mom hugged me tight, and when our lips touched, Mom slid her tongue against my lips, and we had a quite visible in-the-spotlight French kiss.
Embarrassed for mom, and yet pleased with myself, the shocked audience suddenly quieted until the MC closed the show and pageant. But no one turned off the microphone. As the crowd on the stage walked back and forth around and past it, the mic was catching random comments. The sound system was still running, and the little snips of conversation were all recorded on the house security tape. (see a sequel if I do not get bombed in comments).
"That kiss, holy shit. Do you think? What that looked like was a real passion." A female voice.
'WHAT THE FUCK!' thought the show's producer.
Then heard were two contestants, "Wish I could kiss her like that; she didn't like it when I tried one time."
"Yeah, I felt her tits once, and she swatted my hand away."
"Bet we could get the mom to do a three-way from the look of that. Yummy, it would be for sure. Too bad Carla isn't into girls, it could be a four-way."
Two stagehands, men, were heard to say, "I had to go stroke myself for a few minutes, that was so hot to see."
The other male voice, "Well, next time, let me do that for you, okay?"
Female voice, "My dad kisses me like that."
A different female voice, "They could both eat lunch at my 'Y.'"
Those dialogues were recorded but were far enough away from the mike that it didn't amplify to broadcast into the room.
This one from a female was heard all over the almost empty auditorium, "Cunts, both of them. What a horrid display of incest. They ought to be arrested."
And finally, before the house was completely cleared out, the voice of a young girl or boy, "Wouldn't you like to be fly on the wall at their house?"
Barbara, my mom, was in charge of the venue for the pageant committee, so she had stayed late to close and to sign-off with the building manager. While she was waiting for the trash committee to clear the trash from the building, she noticed the sound system where the recorder was still running. She saw the label on the tape and thought it belonged to the pageant, so she removed it and put it with her other hospitality committee information when she left.
While waiting in the RV, I had removed the competition wardrobe, taken the hair rats out of my hair, cleaned off most of the eye makeup, removed jewelry, and changed shoes to my plain black Crocs.
Gone were my bra, girdle, hose, and garter belt. I left only the transparent flesh-colored thong. I had on a cut-off t-shirt, and a pair of home-trimmed, hand-frayed, loose-fitting Daisy Duke bleached blue denim shorts, On my feet, the Crocs seemed trashy, but they were as comfortable as when I am not wearing a bra.