I am glad Mummy has left Daddy and I.
On the morning of the second day past my 24th birthday I was woken up by my Mum mooching in my lingerie drawers.
'What are you looking for, Mummy?'
'My pink chemise, have you borrowed it. I can't find it anywhere!'
'Try the next drawer it may have been put in there by mistake. It's a bit early in the morning to be going out on a hot date.'
'I want it because I am packing to leave your Daddy!'
* * * *
It was the outcome of a trauma filled last twelve months for her. Things have not been like they used to be since my 48 year old Mum had decided that enough was enough and she no longer wanted to be the sole female member of my Dads card school and thinking it was time to leave, Now she has gone!
Before she went she handed over the keys and the reins to me and just like all absconding Mums do when they leave their one and only 24 year old daughter behind, she wished me the best of luck and warned me to stay out of Daddy's perilous bed.
She was gone by Monday lunchtime. At 11.20pm the following evening I was summoned to remove my nightdress and to attend my Dad's nocturnal needs.
I was greeted with bedding thrown back, arms wide open, and a, 'I want to fuck you grin' and a very big hard cock, out-thrust pussy-wards to meet me. The fact that I had been fingering a tune on my clitoris, thinking about him laying in the other room all alone had something to do with my eagerness to participate.
On a score basis of 1 to 10 my dad was an expert 15+ when it came to bed sports. The times I had tuned in to my parents nightly overtures of bed boards hitting stucco walls and my mums squeals and rhythmic moans and groans and her cries of, 'Yes! Do it, do it deeper. harder faster, fuck me! Darling!' told me my Mum had a real appreciation for his rumpy-pumpy prowess. Needless to say the Little Green Goddess, was I, their most nearest and dearest, who was supposed to be sleeping in my bed. Instead, I was twiddling with my plump vulva. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't an almost elderly virgin! Far from it. I was the original Queen of one night stands, or lay downs as I hated doing it standing up. Knee -jerkers are not my cup of tea, times I did let it happen, I found I had a stutter afterwards, even worse the feelings of amalgamated juices running into my silk stockings. Stains which took some explaining too Mummy. Now, the ex-chief washer and rinse of my silk stockings. Now that I would be washing my own I am glad I have given up the practice. I had a feeling that I would not have much use for lingerie from now on. I know for a fact Mummy used to attend the card meetings totally naked.
As for the number of guys who have notched a conquest taking me over the years is anybody's guess. Problem is I have no idea what I am looking for? No doubt you guys out there will have a name for me, that is if you need to christen me? I would have been willing to settle with my Dad. His partner for life. At least that is what I told myself as I watched Mum's car and loaded trailer going away in the distance. I had no delusions that he would strive his utmost to remove my thong and delve deeper into the secret of the sperm he donated 24 years or so ago.
I was conscious of my Mum's perfume still clinging to the bed mixed with the aroma of my Dad. His arms clamped me like a steel vice to his overly warm naked body. I trembled when his hard cock nestled into my groin. He kissed my eyes, nose, ears and then our lips finally contacted, not as kin, we came together has lovers. His tongue was long, serpent like. Playfully I used my own to stop his tongue from entering. Then it was a tongue wrestling match and a saliva swapping, spit dripping tussle.
His hands were those of a truly great explorer. A pathfinder extraordinaire. His fingers traced every pimple, indentation, ridge and furrow of first one of my breasts and then the other. he spit on his palm to give each of my nipples the centrifugal treatment so that the nipple grew like a bullet and was tugged in all directions by the drag of his wet palm. Each tingle was sent by carrier pigeon to my vaginal nerve centre. Already I had the need to expose my pussy to him, I opened my legs to prevent access delay.
The message was received because his fingers fluttered downward with featherlike touch as his lips nibbled my right nipple I lifted the breast to feed his hunger. Offering him the breast made by my Mother and himself. When their loins fused together my tit was born for him. Born for him to suck succulently. He teased it with furtive tongue as his fingers reached my labia. Wet lips to a portal desperate for the penetration of the phallic sperm carrier of the father.