I awoke to a strange sound coming through the wall. At first I had no idea what it was. I rolled onto my back and lay in bed for a while, listening. It was already morning and faint white rays of light shone from around the curtains. I looked at the clock. It was still early. I breathed quietly, then held my breath, waiting for the sounds to become clearer. Something told me that I had been dimly aware of this noise for a long time. My dreams had been strange, troubling and erotic. A lull in the traffic outside meant I was able to hear the unfamiliar sound more clearly. With a sudden quiver in my quim I realized what the noise was.
“Oh yes! Oh yes! Ooh, that’s so good! Ah, right there, yes, yes! Ahh, all the way in, so deep, so deep! Don’t stop! Ride me! Ride me! Ahh god, I’m cumming, ahh!”
It was the sound of my mother screaming, accompanied by moans and grunts from my father.
“Again! Again! Fuck me harder this time! Do it to me, do it to me, ooh god, right in there!”
My entire face and neck flushed hot and I immediately broke out in a sweat. In my soft, cotton pajamas I was suddenly very warm. My fingers wandered in the direction where I felt warmest. No! Not here. Not in the bed I’d slept in since I was little. I unbuttoned my top but was still too warm. The noise continued for what seemed like hours. I decided to get up, hoping that might cool me off.
As I passed their bedroom, their groans reached an almost deafening crescendo. Had they been like this before I’d been sent to the boarding school? I had no memory of such shamelessness between them. Maybe I’d heard similar sounds before but had been too innocent to know what they were. As it was too early for breakfast I passed through the kitchen and opened the door to our canopied patio. I was instantly grateful for the cool breeze on my skin. I rebuttoned my top and went to sit in a plastic chair. There was a hard rain and its drumming on the canvas above me completely obliterated the noise from indoors. Occasional droplets would splash on my toes. I curled them inwards and sat back with my arms folded, shaking my head. I sighed and wondered how my parents could have such flagrant disregard for decency. Tiredness overcame me and my head drooped.
After a while I was jolted from my reverie by the sound of the kitchen door slamming. I opened my eyes and there before me, standing on the lawn in the pouring rain, was a stark naked woman: my mother. With her back to the house, her bare feet planted firmly in the grass, she ran her fingers through her long, wavy, tar black hair. From where I sat behind her and slightly to the side I could see rivulets of rain streaming down her face and from her face to her full breasts. She giggled, clearly enjoying the sensation of her entire body being stimulated by the rain drops. My eyes followed the rain as it rolled down her spine, over her broad cheeks, and trickled down the crack to collect between her legs where it eventually left her in a niagara. She lowered her arms to her belly, then further down. She bent forward and spread her feet slightly wider and I saw her fingertips between her legs, her nails lightly grazing her black pubic curls and her labia. Then she turned around.
I suddenly realized my mouth was open and, strangely, my top had become unbuttoned again. My mother’s right arm flew to her breasts and her left to her pubic region. She glanced to the door, then smiled, dropped her arms and shrugged. I kept my eyes locked on hers but it was too late. My arousal was obvious to her. She relaxed and strolled over to the bench near my chair. She coughed, sat, crossed her legs in as ladylike a fashion as was possible for her at that moment, with her hands clasped at her knee, and looked into the garden with a broad smile on her beautiful face. I looked at her stunning body, at her perfectly hanging breasts, her broad, motherly hips. Suddenly she laughed, sat back and again ran her hands through her lovely hair.
“I guess you heard everything, huh?” she asked me.
I blushed even harder than ever and looked down. This was so wrong. I should be totally grossed out at the thought of my parents being so sexual. Yet there was a burning sensation between my legs that increased as I imagined them having sex.
This had been my first night at home for three years. My life at the boarding school had been quiet and cloistered with almost no contact with the outside world due to its remote location. I had yet to penetrate my pussy, though I had been rubbing myself for years and had become adept at giving myself little thrilling orgasms using my pillow. Doing it here, though, seemed wrong, or maybe I was just too afraid of being walked in on. I clenched my legs together and longed to place my fingers between them. I was so turned on. When my eyes returned to hers, she was staring at me intently. She lifted one foot to rest in on the bench beside her and I was given a full view of her pudenda. Through the soft hair I saw the lips of my mother’s slit glistening from the rain, and possibly also from something more viscous. Finally, I managed to tear my eyes away, afraid of where this was going. I could not look away for long and when I glanced back her elbow was on her knee, her fist was at her chin and her eyebrow was raised. She clearly found the situation more amusing than I did.
She shrugged. “I suppose we’ve got a little too used to not having you in the next room.” It was her turn to blush just a little. She cleared her throat quietly and asked, “So, is there anyone special in your life yet, sweetie?”
I shook my head, incredibly self-conscious; conscious of my blushing, conscious of my innocence. I managed to mumble something about not having spoken to a boy since I entered the school.
“No, I understand that,” she replied, speaking softly but deliberately, as if choosing her words with care. “Didn’t you tell me you had made a good friend, though? I’m sorry, I can’t remember the name.”
I knew who she meant, though I had made several good friends at school. There was one with whom I could share all of my secrets. It was a very precious friendship and I guess I had described her gushingly in my letters home. Something told me mom was suggesting something and my embarrassment deepened further so that I was unable to answer.
“It’s OK, sweetie,” she whispered. “I can tell you like girls.”
I gawped briefly.
“My sweet girl,” she said. “So innocent.” She pondered me for another moment. “You’re so pretty. The moment you go out into the big bad world the men’ll be queuing up.” She giggled slightly and her look invited me to join in, but I couldn’t. She leaned forward to rest her arms on the breakfast table. “Trust me,” she said more seriously, “they will. Most men’d go crazy for a girl like you. Men are predatory creatures and their prey are sweet, innocent virgins. I should know. Your father wanted me from the moment he saw me and nothing, certainly not the fact that we were both way too young, was going to stop us. We were at it like rabbits from the day we met. It was two days before I even knew his name.”
“Mom!” I protested.
“The first time we did it,” she steamed ahead regardless of my embarrassment, “was in your grandparents house while everyone else was downstairs. He had to push my face into the pillow, I was making so much noise. I remember the feeling of him entering me for the first time. Oh,” she gasped with her eyes closed, “it was bliss. He never hurt me once. I wanted him so much I was so ready to take him, and he’s so big!” She winked at me. “A girl has to be relaxed to take it, especially the first time. Nerves make you tense and then you can get hurt.”
“Didn’t it,” I coughed, “didn’t it hurt at all?”
She glanced at me pointedly, crossed her legs again and conceded, “Yes, sweetie, it always hurts the first time, but there are ways of making it less painful and the pleasure more than made up for it.” She continued, “So we did it all night, every night, but sometimes we’d have to sneak out and do it in the garden. At high school I’d suck him off in the girl’s toilets every chance we got. We even did it once in a ditch at the back of the playing field.” She laughed quietly. “He made me so sore, and I think he was cocksore, but we didn’t care. His lovely body was all I thought about. When he got too tired, which was only after hours and hours of solid sex, he’d use his tongue and fingers.” She narrowed her eyes at me and I felt as naked as her. “He’d give me one almighty orgasm after another, and then I’d go down on him. I got to really love the taste of him. He’d squirt it over my tongue and down my throat. There were days when I don’t think I drank anything else but his cum. Oh, it tasted so good. Still does.”
I clamped by jaw shut tightly, afraid of how I must look. By now I was in a state of shock.
“Doing it right under people’s noses made it more exciting. We’d give each other footjobs under the desks. If I was able to keep quiet the more he’d do it to me. But doing it openly was just as fun. We did it in front of friends when we were at parties. They’d join in too.” She sighed and looked wistfully into the garden. “Then we had you.”
She smiled at me fondly and patted my knee. I swallowed hard which was a little painful as my mouth had gone completely dry. Suddenly she looked down. A creamy white substance was oozing from her. I realized I was seeing a man’s semen for the first time. Mom placed her pinky into herself, withdrew the finger and sucked with her eyes closed. During this my embarrassment had turned to outrage. How dare she behave like this in front of her daughter? I stood and was about to re-enter the house when she grabbed my wrist firmly and pulled me down onto her naked lap. She wasn’t rough, just very firm.