25 comments/ 52094 views/ 5 favorites Vicky's Story Ch. 01 By: Crass "Honey, what are the other team's colors?" Vicky Thompson asked, smiling wickedly into her make up mirror as she finished carefully brushing the mascara into her eyelashes, then batted her soft blue almond-shaped eyes, pleased with the effect. "Mom!" Brian protested. He'd been passing by her bedroom door and paused outside, meaning to scold her. Vicky sat at her make-up desk, clad only in her bra and panties, but didn't move to cover up. Brian turned away in embarrassment, then, in a shriller voice, repeated his "Mom!" protest. "Put on some clothing." He complained. "As soon as you tell me what I can wear," Vicky insisted. She grabbed a brush and began to work it through her long, thick blonde hair. "Besides, it's not like I'm naked." There was a pause, followed by a meaningful, "Although..." She let her voice trail off and considered herself in the mirror. Her wicked smile increased. She adjusted her bra, so that the light pinkish tops of her nipples were showing. It was for her own benefit. Brian was still standing in the hall, back turned to his mother. She struck a pose, and gave herself a shake. She knew she was in fine form tonight, but game nights were always like that for her. Her large D-cup breasts swayed back in forth in the push up bra, straining at the sheer garment that attempted to contain her. From the living room the voice of her husband called out. "The Titan's, Dear." "Red and white," mused Vicky. She rose from her chair and crossed over to the dresser, where she pulled open a drawer and rifled through it, coming out with a red mini-skirt that was only sixteen inches in length from the waist to the hem. She stepped into it and snapped it up around her waist, then wriggled her black panties to the floor. From another drawer she drew a crisp white thong, stepped into it, pulled it up, then sidestepped to get it seated properly. She looked out into the hallway. Brian was gone. "Honey, help." She called. Brian stepped out of his own room, down the hall. He noticed she still wasn't fully dressed and crossed his arms over his chest. He gave her an exasperated look. She turned her back to him, and lifted her long, flowing blonde hair clear of her bra strap. "Unhook me." "Dad," Brian called out, "Mom needs help." Vicky pouted, "You used to help me get dressed and put on my make up." "Help your mother, Brian," came the voice from the living room. Stiffly, the boy reached out and undid the clasp of his mother's bra. She cupped her hands to her breasts, holding the garment in place, then turned to her son, and sweetly said, "Thank you." Brian didn't respond, and was turning back to his room when he felt something slide over his head. He snatched at it and came up with the bra. He flushed. "Mom!" "Oh stop it, prude." She laughed, and cupping her breasts in her hands, disappeared back into her bedroom. She pulled a white silk athletic pullover-style shirt from the closet, and slid it on. It hung loosely on her. She had hemmed it up and taken it in a bit at the sides, as it had originally been a men's double XL. The short sleeves, had hung to her forearms, but she had cut them off at the shoulder. The collared neckline was very wide and deep, and since she had cut the buttons right off, it hung open to mid chest, which was usually enough to show the bridge of her bra, but in the absence of that, the freckles on the tanned skin of her upper chest, and cleavage, were clearly displayed. She turned back and forth, happy with the way the silk flowed over her curves. She gathered up the material at her waist , then tied it in a knot to show a few inches of the trim midriff she was so proud of. She'd noticed her pink lipstick was all wrong, and grabbed a tissue to dab it off. That done, she grabbed a tube of glossy ruby red, and applied it. The color was perfect, and she felt a warm thrill run through her when she considered herself in the full length mirror. A few minutes later, she emerged into the living room where her husband sat watching television on the sofa. She held up a pair of white, seamed stockings, with silken frilly tops for his consideration. "Too school-girlish?" She asked. "Mom!" Brian exclaimed again. "My friends are going to be there, everyone from school." He was passing through the living room to the stairs which led down to the foyer and the garage entrance. "Fine," Vicky faked a huff. "I didn't want to wear heels anyway." She continued in a sweet voice, "I'll just go as myself I guess." David Thompson, accustomed to his wife's teasing attitude toward their son lately, casually reached out and slapped a hand on the back of his wife's thigh. He ran it slowly up, sliding it around to her inner thigh, and up under her skirt as he did so. "I like you just the way you are, Babe." He said it in a macho, possessive tone that was quite out of character for him. Vicky ate it up. A mini-pickup was pulling into the driveway, and she recognized it as belonging to Todd Hoskins, her son's best-friend and teammate. Brian was already out on the lawn lugging his equipment bag. She collapsed into her husband's lap as a finger strayed under the thin crotch of her thong. She giggled and let him kiss her. She felt herself responding to the intruding finger. Playfully, she slapped him on the chest, "Stop it. You're going to mess up my make up," her tone sank into a husky voice as the finger wormed it's way deeper. "And leave a wet-spot." The finger, to her disappointment, retreated. As a consolation she got a kiss on the forehead. "You really shouldn't be so hard on him." Her husband whispered. "It's an awkward age. He's probably jacking off like twelve times a day, and having his mother flaunt her sexuality in front of him is probably wierding him out. It would have wierded me out." Vicky laughed at that, "You're mom? Oh gawd, that'd probably have turned you gay. Besides," she pouted again, "I miss my little Bri-guy. We used to be so close." She paused before continuing, "Now he's like," another pause, "a man." She said it as an accusation. "Like he's ashamed of me." She finished. "He's not ashamed of you. Probably a little embarrassed. Most of his friends would love to fuck you." She felt the smile on his lips as he whispered the last into her ear, and she smiled too. She felt her nipples hardening at the thought. David noticed it too, and reached around to cup a breast. The front door at the bottom of the stairs opened, and the two boys entered the house, discussing the last weeks game. David tried to pull his hand free, but she caught it and held it in place, giggling as he halfheartedly made a show of trying to pull it free. They were still like that, when the boys reached the top of the stairs, and froze. Vicky and David both suppressed further laughter at the expressions on the faces of the two boys before Vicky let go of David's hand and stood. David gave her a playful slap on the ass, puffed up as she knew he was by her public display. She straightened her top as she greeted Todd. Todd stood, transfixed, as Vicky slid the knot at her waist back into place, adjusted a breast, and plucked at the blouse, so it hung loosely over her again. Vicky was speaking as she did so. "Are we giving you a ride to the game too?" She asked. Todd, the six foot three quarterback of her son's football team, who's eighteenth birthday had just passed the previous week, was still eyeing the nipples poking at the fabric of Vicky's top, when her son answered for him. Flushed and looking upset, Brian said, "Actually, I'm going to get a ride with Todd. He has more room in his truck." Todd registered the words and seemed to want to protest, "Well, if it would be easier," he began. "Plus, we're going to give Derek a ride." Brian added, cutting him off. Vicky slowly began to swish her skirt back and forth, the tiny garment flaring up and out ever so slightly as she did so. The effect seemed to hypnotize Todd. "Okay, but there's plenty of room in the van." She clasped one hand around the opposite wrist behind her back, trying to look casual as she did so. The effect was her chest jutting out emphasizing the sway of her breasts, in time to the motion of the skirt. Brian pulled at his friend's arm, trying to turn him away. Todd didn't seem to notice. "We have to go, now." His voice was insistent, and he interjected himself between his friend and his mother. Todd reluctantly turned. "We'll see you there," Vicky promised as Brian led his friend from the house. Outside, Brian heaved his equipment bag into the box of the mini-pickup and crossed over to the passenger side. Todd was clearly agitated. "Dude, I know you hate to hear it." "Don't." Brian warned. Todd ignored the warning, "But I'd give anything to fuck your mom." He pantomimed holding and kissing the imaginary Mrs. Thompson, while thrusting with his hips at the wheel of the truck. Brian punched the dash of the truck. Todd laughed. The engine started and they backed out of the drive way. "Why does she always cheer against us?" Todd asked. "'Cause it pisses me off." Brian explained. Then softened, "She says it makes me play better." Todd grinned, "Well, yeah. You better play better. She's out there jiggling for them, and they all want to perform. To show off. Everyone of them would love to paste you on their way to a touchdown just to watch her bounce in celebration." Brian darkened again, "Just drive." -- "It's not pink, it's salmon." Vicky insisted. "But why do I have to wear it?" David was asking. "Because it looks good on you." Vicky said, as if that was the final word on the subject. She had insisted he wear the shirt because, she had suggested, it would go well with her own outfit. He hadn't really accepted the explanation, but he was still horny from tussling with her in the living room, so he didn't have much of a fight in him. There had been another reason, but she was hardly going to tell that to David. She'd overheard Mr. Hargrove, their son's coach, teasing David about the color of his shirt the last time he'd worn it. Hargrove had always been very flirtatious with her, which annoyed David. He wasn't usually the jealous sort, his wife had always been a very flirty woman, but he didn't believe she was capable of cheating on him. Still, he'd noticed the chemistry between his wife and the coach. There were definite sparks every time they met. She knew David believed in her and would never believer her capable of cheating on him, and she loved him for it. The fact was, she had cheated on David, many times, but she always felt guilty, and would even become depressed after such episodes. David, in his lovable way, always picked up on these episodes and would usually respond with a romantic dinner out, a sexy new dress to squire her around in, and an evening of dancing. He couldn't dance to save his life, but he loved the joy he saw in her face while dancing, and she was never short of partners. The fact was, she was attracted to the wrong sort of man. She was sexually attracted to strong, self-assured men, the types who wouldn't take no for an answer. The more arrogant the man, the less able she was to resist him. Worse, she was keenly aware of her dark side. She actually enjoyed being degraded. There was something about the expression of a man's dominance and control that reduced her to a sex obsessed bimbo. She didn't actually like the physical sensation of anal sex, for example, but if a man just took her that way, she was helpless to resist. Such episodes were always dangerous for her. She reacted so strongly and so positively to being dominated, that it was hard to get the men to back off once she had decided the relationship needed to come to an end. She loved that they wouldn't take no for an answer, but that then meant that, well, they wouldn't take no for an answer. For that reason, she had always avoided entanglements with men who had some social connection to her, and therein lie problem with Coach Hargrove. He was an alpha male, right up her alley, but there were too many entanglements to manage. Her marriage would never survive. The problem was, also, that he wasn't a bad guy. Her son liked and respected him. He was good with kids. She knew she would too easily fall in love with the man, and be lost forever. Vicky smiled, sadness in her eyes, when she looked over at David. His attention was focused on the road while driving, so he didn't notice the look. He was a good man. She loved him for that. Nothing like the men she always went for. In the end, that was why she had married him. In college, she'd gone through a self improvement phase. She'd started to hate herself, the things she did. She'd believed that David was good for her, and he had been. She thought then of their first meeting, all those years ago. He hadn't stared at her tits. In a man nineteen years of age, that had been rather remarkable. They'd been in the bookstore buying texts. In the crowded, cramped aisles, he'd tapped her on the shoulder. She'd figured he was just another loser ass hole looking to hit on her. She'd turned, ready to cut him off at the knees at the first sign of a come on. His face was so open and honest, it caught her off-guard. His brown eyes had been so full of laughter, they had disarmed her immediately. She had been expecting him to look down any second. To stare. She dressed in a manner that encouraged it, and she was rarely disappointed by the predictable male response. He didn't. He was looking at her. Her lips? David had indeed first noticed her lips. That she was beautiful had occurred to him, he would later say, but it was more just registering a fact of the world than an immediate attraction. Those beautiful almond-shaped blue eyes had flashed with danger, and he would remember noticing the tug at the corners of her mouth, wanting to form a frown. They were so full. So soft looking. He couldn't explain it if asked. Lips weren't really his thing. It was just something about that moment. The cramped confines, the forced closeness, and there they were. He'd stammered a moment, and the danger in the blonde girl's eyes had evaporated. The impending frown had vanished, and an impish smile had appeared. There was more stammering, and the smile grew. He'd wanted to kiss her. She knew he wanted to kiss her then. There was a pull, like it had been inevitable. She could feel him nearing her, he actually had seemed confused. Before he knew it he had been kissing her. Not hard, not urgently. Those lips weren't made for that. At first it was a caress, brushing her lips with his own. He'd felt the need to explore, to sample. He'd kissed each lip independently then, and after that, held her lower lip tenderly between his own, tugging at it playfully, then sucking slightly. Applause rang out around then from surrounding students, and the moment was broken. He'd tried to pull away, to apologize, but she'd cut him off and introduced herself. That had been it. Half an hour later they were having coffee in the Student's Union building. Two hours later, they had been in bed. Vicky, sitting in the van, watching the blocks roll past, felt the familiar moistness at the memory. She smiled broadly at her man, then reached out and grasped his hand. He was going to pull away, but realized he'd missed something that had apparently passed between them. He smiled at her as if he understood and let her hold his hand, while he awkwardly steered with his left. -- Things were going poorly for Brian's Cavaliers. The visiting Titan's were already up by three touchdowns at the half, and the home crowd had been mostly quiet for much of the game. Even Vicky, who liked to antagonize some of the other team mothers by cheering loudly for the visitors, had been fairly subdued. It had been a rough game so far. The visitors were pursuing a running game, to spectacular effect, and punishing the home team with crushing hit after hit. As the Cavaliers retired for half time, they looked the perfect picture of despair. No chatter, no bravado. "I'll be right back." David said, but didn't move. "Bri will be fine. I'm sure after the half they'll pull together and make a game of it." Vicky smiled, but the doubt in her face was evident. "Get me a Diet Coke while your down there." "Will do." David stood and joined the slowly moving mass of people heading to the washrooms and concessions. Vicky watched him go, and tried not to think about some of the rough tackles Brian had taken during the game, and noticed, not for the first time, the lone Titan's player, judging by his jacket, seated in the stands and not down with his team. He had a leg brace propped up on the bench row below him, and an open text book in his hands. Everyone else had avoided the young man. Tensions were running high with the rough physical nature the game had taken so far. Vicky stood and descended a few rows to join him. "Afternoon, I'm Vicky Thompson." She said, and extended a hand. The young man seemed surprised to find her speaking to him, but took the hand and shook it. "Hi, Ken Young." He set the math text down. "Your boy one of the Cavaliers?" Vicky smiled, and feigned a wince, "Do I really look that old?" Ken didn't answer, but smiled back. "Just a stab in the dark. Actually, I kinda wondered about you. Cheering for us Titans, but I'd have noticed you at any of our other games." Vicky found his smile easy to like. "Not a lot of white girls at your games?" She froze, unable to believe she'd just said that. It had just come out. Ken didn't seem to take offence. "Oh, plenty," the smile broadened. "Just none as pretty as you." Vicky was relieved and grateful that he had let her remark pass. His remark also brought to mind an image of pretty young white girls mooning over the visiting black football player. It didn't take much of an imagination to take it a step further, and a familiar dirty thrill ran through her. She liked him immediately. She swept her hair back unconsciously, reacting with pleasure to the compliment. She nodded to the leg brace, "Injured while playing?" "Naw, it's not real. We're positioned to take a run at state, and well, forgive me for saying, but this game wasn't expected to be real competitive. I need to work on my math, and the coach likes to play mind games with our opponents. Hanging me out with a leg brace does that." He said it casually, and Vicky noted he wasn't hiding his appraisal of her form as he did it. She realized that she had just touched her hair again, sweeping a tuft off the curve of her breast. She had the distinct impression, that while this young man was unfailingly polite, she was also prey. It was a feeling she was familiar, and comfortable with. "I see." She didn't know what to add next, and there was an uncomfortable lull in the conversation. "My son is number twenty three. Receiver." The boy nodded. "Little too hesitant, like he doesn't trust his own instincts. He just needs to commit more. Not fast enough to ever go pro of course, but most of us aren't." The way he included himself in that assessment took the edge off, and again, Vicky was impressed by this young man's poise. "Yeah, he doesn't really aspire to it. He mostly plays because his friends do." "Probably the best reason there is to play. So why do you cheer for us anyway? Seems kinda cold." Vicky pretended to bristle, and the boy laughed. She shrugged, "I don't know. Part of it is teasing him. Partly because he's not my little boy anymore, and I miss that. I guess I want him to ask for his mom again." She blushed, wondering why she had just admitted that. "That's a good answer. Bet it makes him play harder too." He shifted uncomfortably on the hard wooden bench, adjusting his leg brace's position as he did so. Vicky's Story Ch. 01 "That too." She gestured toward his leg, "Doesn't look too comfortable." "I think it's falling asleep." He pushed his book into a backpack that was sitting nearby. "Help me up?" He asked it with a smile that Vicky responded to. She stood and leaned over him. He didn't hide his attempt to get a better look down her shirt. "Watch it, buster." She growled playfully and grabbed his hand to pull him up. He rose with a bit of a wince, obviously not lying about the discomfort, and seemed to sway on his feet, leaning into her as if about to pitch forward. Automatically, she wrapped her arms around his torso, under his arms to catch him. He'd already steadied himself, but let her hold him. Feeling foolish she let him go and stepped back. He used the opportunity to turn himself, and slide a hand over her left breast, trying to pass it off as an attempt to steady himself. She looked him straight in the eye, and asked, "You going to be okay?" There was no shame, no remorse, on his face. "Better now. Wanna show me around a bit?" Vicky glanced back at where she had last seen her husband, and now noticed disapproving stares coming from some of the other team parents. "Yeah, sure." -- The conversation kept steering back around to sex. Vicky knew she was instigating it. Part of it was the earlier image that had flashed through her mind. Young white girls letting themselves be lured by the handsome black football player. She wanted to know if it was true. It was, he confirmed. Then he qualified it with a sometimes. Mostly they were interested in his skin color. Forbidden fruit kind of thing. Whether rebelling, or trying to convince themselves they were more worldly than their peers. Vicky thought it showed uncommon insight for this young man to come to that conclusion. She inquired into his age at that point, finding it hard to believe this was one of her son's peers. He confirmed he was nearing his nineteenth birthday. Brian was only four weeks past his eighteenth birthday. Cheekily, he asked after her age. She lied a little and claimed thirty five. He asked if she had ever been with a black man. By that point, he was no longer a high school kid she was talking to, but a citizen of the universe, full of ideas and opinions that she had never considered. She didn't blush, or get embarrassed, but was honest. "Once, back in college. I guess it was like you said, trying to convince myself I was more, ah, worldly." "Let me guess, basketball player?" He crooked an eyebrow. "No," she laughed. "Comparative lit major." He scoffed, and she laughed harder. "So was it true?" He asked, with a grin. "What?" She tried to pretend she didn't understand. "You know, what they say. About black men." He put an arm around her waist, and pulled her closer, like a dark secret was about to be revealed. She laughed, but offered only a prolonged, "Welllll..." while rolling her eyes away from him. They were alone in the hall under the stands now. The game had been back underway for some time. His hand moved down to her ass, and he squeezed. Her eyes snapped back to meet his, he was waiting expectantly. "Yes," she breathed. Yes to what, she wasn't sure. The question about black men, or the proposition in his look. He gathered her into his arms and held her. She encircled his waist with her own, and leaned into his strong, broad chest. She felt his breath on her face and neck, and the hairs on her skin stood at attention expecting contact anywhere, at any time, a contact which hadn't yet happened. She held her eyes closed. Ken hovered his lips just out of contact with hers, parted slightly as were hers. He could feel her begin to tremble. It was his tongue that she felt first. Gently, slowly it played over her lips, not licking, just touching, before gently probing the small gap of her mouth. It retreated, and she used her own tongue, searching, then finding his in the void between them. Finally their lips met, and his tongue ventured deeper, and retreated. She pursued, then retreated. They stood like that for a a couple of minutes, kissing, withdrawing, probing, sharing, withdrawing. Finally, Ken stood back. Vicky's head was reeling, and she meekly let herself be guided. He led her into a washroom. The handicap stall. Blood seemed to be draining from her brain. A bathroom stall. She should have been revolted, but that dark part of her took hold and she felt a wave of ecstasy roll through her. She gave herself over to her bodies desires. He was kissing her again, and she reached around to grab his muscular ass. He was kissing down her neck, and she felt his teeth on her shoulder. She laughed joyfully, and raised her arms above her head as he undid the knot in her top. He pulled it up and off quickly, tossing it to hang over the top of the stall divider. His mouth was immediately on her breasts, and she hooked her thumbs through the waist of her skirt and panties together, and slid them down over her hips. He was on his knees now, his mouth on her shaven pubic mound. Only a thin strip of wispy blonde hair was intact. She felt his hot breath on her clit, and his tongue against her labia. She grabbed at the metal hand hold next to the toilet to steady herself as she shuddered in delight and pleasure. -- David was still holding the Diet Coke, looking for Vicky in the stands. He approached the Vickers, another pair of proud Cavalier parents. "Have you seen Vicky?" Marge Vickers looked at him distastefully. He had never hidden her disapproval of Vicky, and by extension, her husband. "She took off with that Black boy a while ago." "Black boy?" David sounded doubtful. "Yeah, the cripple. Had his hands all over her." She turned back to the game then, and David knew he had been dismissed. Behind Marge, the husband of another couple, whose name David couldn't recall, smirked and nodded, confirming the story he had overheard. -- Ken, better known as The Black Boy to the Cavalier parents, was pinned against the stall door. Vicky, on her knees in front of him, using her skirt and underwear as a cushion against the hard tile, was sucking the boy expertly. She gently cupped his scrotum in one hand, while she ran her tongue down the length of his shaft, took it deep into her mouth and throat, while he provided a fucking motion, then occasionally raking her teeth softly over the head, sending waves of sensation through him, which buckled the young man's knees. He looked down into those wide, happy almond-shaped blue eyes. "I can't believe it," He moaned. She stopped briefly, and pulled away, trailing a long strand of saliva from his cock-head to her tongue. "Can't believe what?" She asked. His face was a mask of pure animal lust. He pushed her back, and she let herself roll back to lay on the smelly floor. She spread her long, slender legs invitingly. He dropped to a kneeling position between those golden thighs and fisted his penis a few times. Then, he pressed the head of his cock against her pale pussy mound. He pressed in, and the pale flesh parted, revealing her pink gash. She cooed, and her eyes fluttered shut. She was concentrating hard on the sensation. Slowly, he fed himself into her, then when half way in, slowly withdrew. He thrust back in a little faster and a little deeper, then backed out. Soon he was balls deep in Mrs. Vicky Thompson. He grunted as he thrust against her. She whimpered with each stroke. "I can't... believe... I'm fucking... the mom... of another player... during a game... in a toilet stall... while her son... plays." He gave a mighty thrust with the last word, and she gasped in pleasure, then they both let out a relieved laugh. "And my husband's probably looking for me," she whispered, with a laugh. "He might find us." The boy flashed his white teeth in a broad, cruel smile. "I hope he does." They shared a laugh, and each moaned again. His pumping grew in intensity, both faster and harder. He clamped a mouth onto a breast again, and began sucking. Hard. She cradled his head, feeling the prickles of pain on the underside of her breast, just below the nipple. She knew the bruise it would leave. A hickey. She thought of her husband seeing it, and knowing. She began to convulse. The muscles of her pussy began to constrict and expand as her orgasm began, milking Ken's cock. It was too much to take, and he felt the first spasm of his own orgasm suck the strength out of his arms and legs. He collapsed on top of the woman, even as he began to inject his sperm into her. She held him tight, her own orgasm subsiding. She covered his face with kisses as his spurting and spasming drew to an end. -- Brian was lost in the pain. He was in the fetal position on the field, trying to grab at his left leg, but finding every attempt resulting in unbearable agony. The spectators were still, and the Titans were standing around the scene bearing silent witness. Coach Hargrove was rushing across the field. In the stands, David stood stunned, having heard, rather than seen the hit. The gasp of horror that went up through the crowd and snapped his attention down to the field. He held the can of Diet Coke dumbly for a moment before dropping it and rushing down to join the unfolding scene on the field. -- Vicky was kneeling, with her legs spread on the tile floor again. Semen dribbled out of her to pool between her legs, while she watched an exhausted and seemingly stunned Ken gather up this things. Another wicked impulse ran through her and she grabbed him by the waist. Making eye contact again, she licked at his wet, softening cock. Dribbles of the last bits of cum were oozing out, and she grabbed the member in hand and smeared it over her face, heedless to the effect on her make up. Ken watched the wanton scene, and already felt the stirring of his cock renewed. -- Coach Hargrove held David Thompson back as the medics rolled the boy onto a stretcher. The father was frantic, but the boy seemed to be more in control now and he weakly waved at his father, trying to let him know it was alright. -- They were out of the stall now. Nobody had come in yet, but neither really cared. It was quiet outside, and for the two of them it seemed they were alone in the world. Vicky was up on the counter, between sinks, her legs hooked up over Ken's shoulders. He was in her ass now. Her face betrayed the pain she was in, but she kept up her encouragement. She fingered her pussy constantly as Ken relentlessly pounded into her. -- The ambulance was ready to depart. Coach Hargrove was trying to get David to get into the ambulance with his son, but David was insisting his mother should be there too. Hargrove was promising to find her and get her to the hospital. Finally, when the medics indicated that one way or another they had to leave, David climbed aboard. The doors closed, the flashing red lights activated and the ambulance left the high school field. -- Vicky had the boys face in her hand, one on each cheek. The look of intensity was fierce, and beautiful. She saw years of pent up anger, and rage, felt him using it as he thrust in and out, slowly, but with great force. She was bucked with each one, but she kept her eyes locked on his. "Yes," she whispered, with each thrust. Finally, he grimaced, and steadied himself. She felt the familiar, though less intense, jerks of the penis in her ass, and she bent forward to kiss him. He lifted her then, his softening cock still inside her, and carried her back into the stall, where he slid down, back against the wall. Still holding her. She continued to cover him with kisses, one hand now pressed flat against his chest. She could feel his heart beating. Slowing. His ragged breath becoming more normal. He opened his eyes to find her peering into his. The softness there amazed him. The acceptance. The gratitude. She curled up in his lap and rest her head against his chest. They breathed and shared a moment of peace. -- They both knew they couldn't stay like that forever. Ken broke the mood first, lifting her effortlessly as he got to his feet, then slowly lowering her to stand on her own. She made no move to dress, but opened the stall door and strode out to the mirror above the sinks where she began to try to marshal her hair back into its original shape with her fingers. Ken pulled on his jeans, then joined her at the mirror. He turned on the faucet and with a tinge of regret began washing the lipstick smears from his face. Her mascara had run when she teared up during the anal sex. She washed away the streaks, then used a paper towel to try to even it out around her eyes, and remove the excess. Finally, she used a finger tip to smear lipstick from the corners of her mouth over her lips, in an attempt to even that out too. Finally, she stood, and presented herself to the mirror, still nude. "How do I look?" She asked, timidly. "Gorgeous." He answered simply, and meant it. She wiggled a bit, clearly pleased by the answer, then turned and with her hands, spread her ass cheeks. The raw, red skin there clearly looked abused. The sphincter still gaped slightly, and semen still oozed out. "You did that to me," She grinned. "You want more?" She swatted him on the chest, playfully. "Beast." With that, she spun and fetched her skirt. She pulled the skirt and panties up quickly, then pulled the top over her head. She didn't bother tying it off. Ken left the bathroom first. It was clear. It was also quiet. He poked his head back into the washroom. "It's clear. Game must not have gotten any better. Pretty quiet." They were walking back to the stands when they ran into Todd's parents. "Vicky, your still here!" Martha sounded surprised. Vicky didn't know what to make of that. Martha continued, "Well of course, you missed the ambulance didn't you? They didn't tell you where they were taking Brian?" A shock ran through Vicky. "Brian?" Martha nodded sympathetically. "Terrible, but I'm sure he'll be fine. Sherwood is the closest, that's probably where they'll take him." She lowered her voice, "Do you need a make up kit? You've been crying, and your make up," she was saying, but Vicky was already headed for the parking lot, certain David had left her behind. Not knowing what else to do, Ken followed along behind. Vicky's Story Ch. 02 Mindy Fullsome felt like the ride would never end. She stared out the passenger side window of Todd's mini-pickup, and thought again about Brian Thompson's injury. She had played the horrible scene over and over again. She could see it coming. Brian was looking away, for the pass, and she'd seen the Titan's player pick up speed in anticipation of the reception. She'd wanted to yell. To warn him. He wouldn't have heard her. Brian had leapt to catch the ball, had only just grasped it, when the tackle hit him. She'd closed her eyes, but could hear the scream. Then the whistle. The Titan's player had stood, offering a hand to the downed receiver, but Brian wasn't accepting. He was twisting on the ground. Writhing. She felt the rage return with the memory. She'd wanted to rush out there and beat that ass hole. Beat him until he lay there broken and bleeding. Broken like Brian. They'd carried him away. She thought she'd seen him look in her direction. She'd turned away. Her impulse had actually been to protect Brian, not shun him. She didn't want to embarrass him. Didn't want him seeing her witness his moment of weakness. She regretted it now. It had always been like that with Brian. Somehow, it always seemed when either looked at the other, that other was already looking back. The meeting of their eyes had always caused a jolt to run through Mindy. A brief shock. She'd always worried he would know she liked him. Would see the love in her eyes. Worried, why? That scream. She shuddered. She felt like an idiot whenever she reflected on her own shyness, where Brian was concerned. Sitting in the truck, she pulled Todd's jacket tighter around her, and tried to ignore the giggling and constant shifting of her best-friend, Tamara West, who sat in the middle of the bench seat, snuggled up to her new boyfriend, Todd Hoskins. He'd agreed to give them a ride when he'd mentioned he was going to catch up with Brian at the hospital after the game. She wasn't jealous of Tamara, and she didn't dislike Todd; he was a great guy. She was happy for them, and everyone agreed that they would make a fantastic couple. She was just uncomfortable being the third wheel around them, and right now she wanted to be miserable for Brian, not pretending to notice the two new young lovers who were practically dry-humping each other at every available opportunity. Bitterly, she reflected, it was more than a little inappropriate right now. Todd playfully pushed Tamara away, making sure to get a handful of breast as he did so. Stop it, he mouthed silently at her, and Tamara replied with a mock angry scowl. Her eyes were laughing though, her attitude playful. He loved those eyes. Tamara was a bubbly, thick, brunette, and he loved that about her. Behind her back, other girls suggested she was fat, but once seen in her cheer-leading outfit, everyone knew that to be a lie. Sure, she was thick. Her face was a little rounder than many other girls, but she was all woman. She was busty, which Todd appreciated, but not fat. Thick was the word that suited her. Her muscular legs, while not long and slender, were definitely feminine, and she used them to good effect. She was shorter than Todd, coming up only to the level of his shoulders when standing next to him, but at six foot three, Todd was a big guy. He felt like a goon when standing next to a thin, waif of a girl like Tamara's best friend, Mindy. Tamara had that energy about her that suggested she might like to play rough, and she had the build to back it up. Definitely not fragile. Todd spoke aloud now, for Mindy's benefit. He'd noticed that she'd been awfully quiet. "I'm sure Brian will be fine." Mindy answered too quickly to sound casual. "I know, he'll be fine. I mean, it's just, well, you know." Todd nodded, trying to keep his eyes on the road while Tamara playfully slid a hand across to his crotch. "Yeah," he said, but couldn't remember what he'd been talking about, or what question had been asked. Stop it! He mouthed, again, getting a little irritated. He was trying to drive here. Oh yeah, and Brian and all. She repeated her scowl, but began a rhythmic rub against the bulge in his jeans. She'd pay for that later. -- Ken was driving the minivan. His leg brace lay in the back seat. Vicky had been in no condition to drive, and certainly in no mood to talk. Until now. "No one can know." She said it flatly. A statement of fact. Ken didn't respond. He didn't know what to say to that. "It was a mistake." Again, Vicky spoke in a mono-tone. There was a long silence. Ken was searching for a feeling. Something. He felt empty. It was an emptiness that he equated with fear. More silence. Then, Ken spoke. Not loudly, but forcefully. "Bullshit." Vicky seemed a little startled by the word. She wanted to protest, but couldn't come up with a reason why she should. She was used to getting her way with children this boy's age. Ken seemed to be fumbling with the wheel and controls. Finally, he located the red triangle button on the dash and pushed it in. He manoeuvred the vehicle to the side of the road. Cars continued to flash by, too close, on the drivers side. He kept both hands on the wheel, though the car wasn't moving. A slight drizzle of rain was starting to fall. The rain sensing wipers started up, the heavy whine of their electric motor filling the silent cab. Vicky felt a little uneasy. She expected anger. Ken was calm. "It wasn't all a mistake." He groped for the words that could express what he now felt, what he knew. "I... it wasn't a mistake." Vicky crossed her arms, defensively, over her chest. It was a gesture that expressed her refusal to hear or accept his words. "It was. I," she began, then stopped. A feeling of disappointment came over her. "I don't know what you think I am. Some of it, maybe it's true. But more than what you've seen, I'm a wife. I love my husband. I don't mean to hurt him. I guess I'm just not a very good person." Excuses came to her mind, explanations she'd thought of a hundred times. She saw them for the self-deluding lies they were. "I like sex. Men like me. I let them use me because I get a sick thrill out of it. That's all it was. A cheap thrill." She shrugged when she got no reply. "I guess that makes me a whore, and a cheap one at that. It doesn't change the fact that I have people who rely on me. Who love me. I can't take it back, but I don't have to keep hurting them." There was a finality in her voice. Ken felt a sense of loss. Maybe a missed opportunity. He looked at her, she kept staring out the window. He reached out and gripped her hand. She let him take it, but she didn't squeeze back. "I think I love you." He said. She didn't respond. "I don't know what your going through right now. It was bad timing I guess. Back at the stadium, before the, you know, I saw you. I saw woman who knew what she wanted, who knew how to take it. She wasn't embarrassed about who she was. I think I love her. I think I want to help her find whatever she's missing." He let the hand go, and Vicky continued to stare straight ahead. "But whatever, right?" Still no response. He put the car back in gear and continued toward the hospital. -- Todd, Tamara and Mindy walked into the Emergency Room entrance, and each of them felt a moment of dismay at the crowded room before they saw Mr. Thompson, as they thought of him, approaching and waving. Somehow he managed to look worried, grateful, and tired all at the same time. "Hey Mr. Thompson," Todd said in greeting before indicating the two girls with a roguish grin, "I brought gifts." Tamara swatted Todd, as if scandalized. For the first time in hours David Thompson smiled. Tamara could lighten any mood, and David could feel the chemistry between the two of them. He liked this girl, and felt a surge of happiness for Todd. The other girl stepped forward, and awkwardly offered her hand, seeming unsure of how to greet him. "Hi Mr. Thompson, I'm Mindy. A friend of Brian's from school." Mr. Thompson took the hand, and shook it, "I'm glad you all came. Brian will be glad to see his friends." Mindy was a pretty girl, David noticed. She was a little taller than Mindy, right around Brian's height. She had thick dark hair, that glowed a dark red at the edges where it was thin enough for light to shine through it. She was wearing a cheerleader's skirt, like Mindy, though much of the rest of her was covered by a much too large Cavalier's team jacket. David noticed Todd's name on the patch, and a moment of uncertainty came over him. She noticed the shadow that passed over the man's features, and she was momentarily flustered, certain she'd made a bad impression. Then she realized what had just transpired. "I was cold, Todd let me wear his jacket." She stepped forward, and lowered her voice. "He has Tammy to keep him warm." David smiled widely at the comment, but tried to banish the need for the explanation, with a wave. "Anybody need a coffee? Or something?" He realized these kids probably didn't drink coffee. Todd shook his head, Tamara wrapped her arms around him and said, "I have everything I need right here." Mindy shrugged off the heavy jacket, and Todd reached out to take it back from her. Something fell out of the pocket. Mindy bent over automatically, to pick it up. David suddenly found himself looking straight down, his eyes having followed the teal colored square item that had dropped to the floor. However, it also gave him a good clear view of Mindy's cleavage. She wasn't large, but her full, round breasts tented the V-neck of her cheerleader uniform in a way that let him see deep down the top. She snatched the dropped item from the floor, then froze, and looked up at her would-be boyfriend's father with a look of surprise. She was holding a condom. She had also noticed his leer. Mindy stood, and was turning red with embarrassment. She still held the condom out in front of her, as if it were a talisman. Tamara stepped forward and snatched it out of her friend's hand. There was no trace of shame on Tamara's face as she said sweetly, "I think that's for me." Mindy and David stood facing each other awkwardly, trying not to look offended or guilty, respectively, and faking laughs at Tamara's statement. As the only parent present, David felt an urge to say something to the young couple, to counsel them about pre-marital sex, or something, but shame kept him quiet. Besides, when he was their age, he didn't complete the thought. Mindy tried to focus her eyes elsewhere, while simultaneously not wanting to look like she was trying to avoid looking at Mr. Thompson. Discomforted, she began to cross her arms across her chest, but realized it would be taken as an accusation, and draw attention back to her breasts, so she aborted the movement, which only made the moment more awkward. "So, um, Coffee anyone?" David repeated, without realizing it. Todd shook his head, "I don't drink coffee," he explained, unnecessarily. Mr. Thompson probably knew that already. "Uh uh." Tamara shook her head, refusing for the second time. She noticed something was weird about the situation, but thought it was the condom. "Yeah," Mindy said. She didn't drink coffee, but anything that might act as a distraction was currently a good thing. Mr. Thompson seemed relieved by her answer. "There's a machine over here." He hurriedly added, "It's on me." He now realized it sounded like he was offering to buy her a drink after ogling her chest. What the fuck?!? He wondered, silently. Todd and Tamara weren't really the kind of company David Thompson and Mindy Fullsome needed right now. They were wrapped up in each other, and their comfortable, obvious sexuality was a bit much for Mindy to handle right now. David was less discomforted. He recognized Vicky and himself, when they were much younger, in the pair. "Have you known Brian long?" David was asking. He wanted to keep the girl talking, to hopefully smooth over the awkwardness between them. Mindy nodded, and David noticed the sparkle in her eyes, "Since ninth grade, when we moved here from Chicago." David nodded, and sipped his coffee. The girl had barely touched hers. Something occurred to him then, "Mindy... Wholesome?" Mindy nodded, again, pleased, despite the incorrect guess. "Fullsome. How'd you know?" "Brian," he started to say, then realized he might be outing his boy. "I mean, I've heard your name mentioned." Mindy knew exactly what he meant and beamed. She looked down at her hands, twiddling with the hem of her skirt. "But I'll be all the boys can't stop talking about you." He teased, trying to cover up one faux pas, and reigniting another. It wasn't what Mindy was hoping to hear from Brian's dad, but she recognized the compliment for what it was intended to be and found herself trying to shield a smile behind a sweeping back of her hair. David relaxed when he saw that she wasn't going to blush again. "So what are your plans for after graduation?" He asked, hoping to find a track to ride that didn't take him through another minefield. Mindy was a little sick of this question, which she'd been getting a lot lately, and sick of trying to find the perfect answer. Instead, she decided to be honest. "Well, I do want to go to college, but not right away, you know? I kinda wanna take six months or even a year off. I already got accepted at State, but I talked to the registrar's office, and it shouldn't be a big problem if I reapply for a later admission." Mindy began. "It works for some people, but if your just going to work a job, its mostly just a year lost before you begin the life that really begins after high school." David said, reflectively. He'd been down this road with Brian several times recently, "Brian's going to State." He added offhandedly. Mindy smiled and nodded. "I'm just sick of school. I'm sick of the tests, sick of being herded from one class to another. Sick of being..." She let the words hang. A kid, David finished for her, silently. The awkwardness had passed, and there was a serious look in the girl's eye now. She wasn't seeing David, but she was wrapped up in the confusion surrounding her future. David had wanted to convey this idea to his son so many times, to speak earnestly and clearly with him about his college options, but always found himself butting heads with his son, who was becoming eager to find his own path, and taking on the role of a dad, instead of getting what he really wanted to say across. "College isn't school. High school is hell. College is where life begins. For both Vicky and I, College was the best time of our lives. I know you hear that a lot, but it's true. College is nothing like school, as long as you don't treat it as if it were." He leaned toward the girl, and put a hand on her knee. It was a gesture intended to create a connection, to focus his attention on her, and not a come-on. She didn't take it as one, but was surprised by the passion, and honesty in his voice. "Study what you love, and you'll do well. Is there anything your interested in?" She nodded, and grimaced as she said. "Engineering. Kinda nerdy, huh?" David tossed his head back and laughed. "Yeah, right." Now she was defensive. "I'm great at math, and I really am interested in it. I always get that from guys, but I've got the grades for it. They all think that girls can't count or something." She huffed. David smiled broadly, and shook his head, "No no, you got me wrong." He clapped a hand to his own chest, "I'm an engineer." For the next half hour David and Mindy were thick as thieves, laughing, and trading stories. David tried to impress on Mindy how much freedom she was going to find at college, how different the camaraderie of that student body was as compared to the sophomoric nightmare of the totalitarian high school system. She was enthralled. -- Vicky and Ken finally arrived at the hospital after having gotten lost several times. Vicky was lost in her own world for much of the drive and didn't offer advice, or even really notice, when Ken made the wrong turn, or missed others. He just wasn't at all familiar with the area, and he was distracted himself, paying little attention to signs. When they finally parked the mini-van, they sat through a long moment of pregnant silence. There was so much to communicate, but they each found there was nothing else to say. They climbed out. Vicky stared at the emergency room entrance with a feeling of dread. She desperately didn't want to go in there, but as a mother, she knew she would. She wouldn't be able to stop herself, and truthfully, she didn't really want to. Still, there would be guilt. There would be anguish. She dreaded the questions, the accusations. She also knew she would be alone. Ken stood by the driver's side door, dumbly staring at the key in his hand. He didn't know what to do with it. He couldn't leave it in the ignition. He glanced at Vicky, but she was staring at the hospital. It was also clear she had no pockets to hold it. He tried to remember where he had got them from. The visor. He reopened the door and deposited the keys on top of the driver's visor. The door had been unlocked, he remembered. He glanced around. Seemed like a decent neighbourhood, though he would never have left his own vehicle unlocked. Fuck it, not his van. He closed the door with a final, heavy thunk. Vicky was turning toward him, hesitantly. She had something to say, and Ken thought he knew what it was. It wasn't a surprise. He'd actually been wondering how he was going to get out of this. The look on her face had come as a relief. She was about to speak when he interrupted her. "I know. Look, I'm gonna catch a bus back to the school." "Ken," She started. She thought maybe she should apologize for something. Using him? Jerking him around? Ken approached at the mention of his name. She looked at him with a pleading expression, hoping for understanding. He shook his head, trying to put her at ease. He then took her hands in his own again. This time she did squeeze back. He thought about everything he wanted to say to her, realized half of it was stupid. All of it pointless. Here, in the shadow of the hospital, what could he possibly come up with? He kissed her, for what felt like the last time. He'd intended to kiss her hard, to make her accept it, but had eased up when he felt the kiss being returned. A moment of excitement and relief swept over him, and he lowered an arm from her waist to the bare back of a thigh, brushing over her ass. She stiffened, and pushed him away. He didn't resist, but didn't remove his hand either. She shook her head at him, and tried to brush his hand away as it crept up her outer thigh to her waist, under her skirt. "Please, just keep this, in case," he murmured. She felt the sharpness of a folded piece of paper being hung in the elastic waist of her panties, and she stopped trying to push the hand away. It retreated on it's own. "Call me, if you need to talk, or anything." Ken said. She nodded, grateful that he hadn't made more of a scene. "You should go," she whispered. She'd wanted to express her gratitude for his understanding, but she was beginning to realize that he wasn't the clingy, possessive type she usually went for. Young, able to appear arrogant, cocky, self-assured, but decent and sensitive. She felt a renewed sense of guilt now for what she had done to this beautiful young man. He turned away then, and strode through the parking lot. "Ken!" She called after him. He stopped and turned. She quickly opened the van door and rummaged through the centre console, then reemerged and jogged to catch up with him. Vicky's Story Ch. 02 "Take this." She thrust a few folded bills into his hand. "For a cab, or something." Ken knew better than to refuse. He was practically broke at the moment. He smiled his thanks, and continued on his way. She watched him go, delaying her return back to her normal life. A white security car pulled up and stopped next to her. The window rolled down and the guard, a middle aged Latino man, leaned out. He was eyeing her up and down, when he asked, doubtfully, "Ma-am, are you okay?" She realized, then, how inappropriately she was dressed, and what a mess her make-up was after crying over Brian in the car. She tried to tug the hem of her skirt lower, modesty having come over her far too late to be of any help. "I'm fine," she said. The man nodded curtly. He wanted to say something else, but resisted the urge. He rolled up his window. Despite the scary make-up, he'd noticed the hooker was kind of hot. Trying to pull tricks in the emergency room's parking lot, he thought, with disgust. He was still new to the job. -- Vicky strode into the emergency room, having done her best to fix her make-up with a compact she kept in the van, and with a large football jersey draped over her from shoulder to mid-thigh. It was one of Brian's that she had found in the cargo area, which was always littered with his sports equipment. She'd seen Todd and some girl necking outside the entrance, but they hadn't noticed her, and she had avoided them. Now she picked out her husband seated next to a cheerleader, all smiles and happiness. His hand was on her knee. She felt the unfamiliar grip of jealousy close around her chest. She suppressed the urge to storm over there screaming at him. The girl was young enough to be his daughter. She didn't include herself in that assessment. Instead, she calmly, but purposefully, strode over. Drawing to a stop before the pair, she said in a saccharine voice, "Hello David. Who's your little friend?" The conversation ended abruptly. The hand on Mindy's knee disappeared so quickly, it almost seemed as if it couldn't have ever been there. "Vicky, where have you been?" David asked, in a rush, jumping to his feet. That question brought the freight train of accusation that was about to slam into her husband to a screeching halt. "I, uh, I got lost." Vicky stammered, guiltily. David nodded, hoping to look understanding, but feeling guilty himself. He'd done nothing wrong, but the tone of his wife's voice and the look on her face made him feel like a dirty old man who'd been caught propositioning young Mindy. Turning her attention back to the cheerleader girl, Vicky tried to stoke her fury back to life. The girl looked familiar. "Why don't you introduce us?" She asked, tilting her head toward Mindy. The girl didn't wait for an introduction, but stood and held out her hand. She recognized the jealousy in the woman's face, and was suddenly struck with the urge to stand her ground. She felt righteous indignation rising, and the need to defend her new friend, David, from any insinuation that he'd been anything other than a gentleman. "Mindy Fullsome. I was at the game. I was there when Brian was hurt, and we rushed right over." She said in a challenging tone. Left unsaid was the question of where Vicky had been while her son was in distress. Doubt began nagging at Vicky. She knew the idea was absurd. David flirting with his son's schoolmates while Brian was sequestered away somewhere in this hospital, alone, and in pain. It occurred to her that she was projecting her own guilt onto her husband, and began to feel ashamed of herself. Still, Vicky couldn't help but to feel threatened. This young woman was very pretty, and seemed quite confident and self-assured under these circumstances. It was the polar opposite to how Vicky herself was feeling. She needed to resist any show of weakness. "I see, well, thank you for coming." She took the hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. The girl locked her eyes onto Vicky's, willing the older woman to apologize for her rude interruption. It wasn't going to happen. It was Vicky's son they were here for, it was Vicky's husband she had been speaking with. Whose hand had been on the girl's knee. She was the aggrieved party here, and she wasn't going to be cowed by this child. Vicky gave a very slow, almost imperceptible shake of her head, and immediately knew Mindy had seen it. Mindy gave the older woman an thin, icy smile, and the trio lapsed into silence. Vicky tried to summon anger, but fatigue was settling in. She knew she was behaving irrationally, but felt she had a right to do so. She wanted to see her son. Mindy maintained an indignant air, unwilling to give an inch, and by so doing, admit guilt for having set her sights on Vicky's husband. For one thing, it just wasn't true. Was it? She remembered the hand on her knee and the initial shock she'd felt. She knew that hadn't been the intention of the gesture, but still, she had been flattered by the idea. The idea that this older, experienced, married man might find her attractive. Definitely flattering. It also made her guilty, though, and it was that notion that she now found herself defending against. Something so sweet, turned to something shameful by a look from this woman. Mindy realized she deeply disliked Vicky. She'd only just met Mrs. Thompson, but in that brief time, Vicky had intruded on her conversation, and made her feel guilty about something innocent. "Babe, you look like you could use a coffee." David said, hoping to mollify his jealous wife. She generally responded well to being called Babe. It was another thing that set her apart from most women. When he used it in public, it often drew looks from women that suggested he was a chauvinist for saying it. However, under such circumstances, he could usually count on his wife's support. She didn't really seem to notice now. He waited a second, then realized she wasn't going to respond, and set off in the direction of the coffee machine. Mindy watched David retreat, and felt her dislike of the woman grow, and she felt bad for David. Why didn't this bitch just go crawling back to wherever it was she had been hiding? "So, older men, huh? They do have their benefits, I suppose. Easier to poach someone else's husband than build a family and home of your own." Vicky was saying, trying to get a rise out of the girl. To see her composure break. She cocked her head to one side, "Almost like a Barbie scenario. Instant family, happiness and security." Mindy rolled her eyes at the overly dramatic accusation. "That's right." She decided to go with the suggestion. "Of course, I admit, it is low hanging fruit. They're just so grateful. Women their own age, well, the looks start to go." She lowered her voice toward the end of the statement, as if letting Vicky in on a secret. Vicky nodded, and actually smiled. In spite of herself, she found she was liking this girl's style. "Nice outfit." She observed, indicating the younger woman's cheerleader uniform. Mindy's sardonic grin froze on her face. She was suddenly aware of how, she hated the word, but it was the one which fit best, immature she looked in it. Her voice was stiff, tight, when she found herself replying, "Yours too." Vicky cracked a smile, and Mindy was a little confused. She'd thought they were fighting? This smile didn't look like an attack, but genuine. She wasn't being mocked, or laughed at. Vicky raised the jersey, showing her skirt, and toned, tanned legs. Vicky's short, red skirt put her feminine, mature curves on display in a way that made Mindy's own look dowdy. The cheerleader skirt looked good on her, but it was actually a fairly conservative outfit. Vicky was confident in her manner of dress, and knew that it was intended to inspire lustful looks from men. In wearing something like that she was inviting those looks, suggesting she was comfortable with them, okay with the consequences. "It gets the job done." Mindy felt frumpy now, and wasn't used to the feeling. David returned with a pair of coffees, handing one to Vicky, then, quite unexpectedly, offering the other to Mindy. She had never finished her first, which was now cold, but accepted this one with a sweet smile. "Thank you," she said, her voice pure honey as she took the Styrofoam cup. Vicky recognized the challenge issued in the younger girls voice and manner. She placed a hand on her husband's shoulder, and gave him a peck on the cheek. "I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier, honey," she said. He shook his head, forestalling any further apologies. He hooked an arm around her waist, and pulled her in. "You're here now." Vicky cast a look at Mindy that screamed, I win. Without even realizing what she was doing, Mindy settled back into her seat, cradling the hot cup in her hands carefully, and crossed her legs at the knee. Once settled, she tugged the hem of her skirt a little higher. She bounced one leg slowly. David couldn't help but to notice the movement. "Traffic must have been terrible." Mindy observed. She glanced up at the clock, meaningfully. Vicky was aware her husband had noticed the girl's legs. Had noticed how the hem tended to move a little higher with each bounce. He dropped his arm from his wife's waist, and looked around, searching. "Cream. You need cream for your coffee," he offered, and was gone again. The two women exchanged challenging looks, but didn't speak. Then, a voice behind them broke the silent contest. "Mom?" Brian was being wheeled out of a door marked "Authorized Persons Only" with a bulky, bright white, wet looking cast propped up in front of him. "Brian!" Vicky exclaimed, the younger woman forgotten. She rushed over to her son, and hugged him tightly. "Are you okay?" She gushed, her voice quavering with relief. Brian seemed a little embarrassed. "I'm find mom. Finally got a football injury to talk about." Vicky laughed at her son's poor attempt at a joke. "Bri!" His dad was hurrying over now. He clapped his son on the shoulder. "Looks good on you. Chicks dig scars, and all that." Vicky laughed again. "Speaking of which, there's someone else here to see you." He motioned, and Mindy stood from her chair to approach, a little apprehensively. "Hi Brian," she said, timidly. "Mindy?" Brian looked stunned. "How? Why are you here?" He sounded like he didn't believe what he was seeing. David winced at the poor choice of words. Mindy only smiled, "I came with Todd. You were hurt, and I wanted to, you know, I wanted to make sure you were okay." Brian still looked shocked, and words tumbled out of him, "Um yeah, I mean, thank you. For coming. You look great." Mindy smiled at the compliment. "You're dad is right," she said, surprised by her own flirty tone, "The cast looks good on you." David pulled his wife away. She resisted, reluctant to leave her son alone so soon after being reunited with him, but she could see that he needed some space right now. She joined her husband a short distance away, and watched the unfolding scene. She couldn't help but to be nervous for her son, despite her dislike of the girl. "You were playing great, before the, well," she made a quick gesture toward the cast. Brian flushed a little, "Well, kinda. I guess maybe because I knew you were watching." She'd responded well to the first compliment, so he'd tried again; and succeeded. It was Mindy's turn to blush now. "Well, yeah. That's why I became a cheerleader." She pulled the skirt out to each side, as if she needed to display proof in support of her claim. Vicky whispered to her husband, in mock horror, "This is painful. They're so clumsy." David grinned, and slid an arm around his wife's shoulders. Todd and Tamara were coming back inside, Todd's face covered in lipstick smears. They caught sight of Brian, and they both rushed over. "How you doing, buddy?" He asked, slapping his friend on the back. "I'm okay, you know how it is. Just broken bones, that can't stop me." He said, drawing a laugh. Todd began describing how he saw the hit in gory detail, and Brian was cringing, but laughing. Tamara shot Mindy an inquiring look. Mindy tried to ignore her friend. The look was repeated. Mindy grinned and nodded. Tamara leaned close and whispered. "About time. I'm totally going down on Todd tonight." She swung her hip to bump her friend's, and cupped a hand to conceal her mouth as she continued. "We should make it a group thing." Mindy shook her head, as if disgusted, but her eyes betrayed her pleasure at the thought of the proposal. -- A couple hours later, the teens were all seated around the living room of the Thompson's home. Brian was stretched out on the couch, his leg propped up on a pile of pillows. Mindy was behind him, supporting him, with her legs on either side of him. They were chatting, smiling, and laughing, he was idly caressing one of the legs that he lay between. They were sharing stories from school, tales of their awkward attempts to encounter each other, or embarrassing situations they had gotten into as a result of their mutual fumbling reaction to their attraction. The living room had the air of a confessional, and it was clear the two were becoming closer with each passing minute. Todd was stretched out in a recliner, with Tamara curled up in his lap. David stood in the darkened hallway which led to the bedrooms. He watched the sight with a look of pure contentedness on his face. He noted that Todd's parents might kill him for not being a better chaperone, but the boy had come a long way over the last year, and David found himself thinking of him less as a boy, and more as a man. And Tammy was just so perfect for him. He reached the decision he had been mulling over, and stepped into the kitchen. He came back out with a case of beer under one arm. He walked into the living room, and placed it on the coffee table. "I don't want this anymore. Can I trust you four to dispose of it by the time I wake up in the morning?" They were all perfectly still. It was Todd who spoke up, "Yeah, sure, Mr. T." He had never referred to David as Mr. T before. David nodded his thanks and retreated back down the hall. He could hear the excited whispering behind him. He stood behind the bedroom door, holding it open by just an inch, until he heard a series of hissing pops. Satisfied, he quietly closed the door. From the master bath, the sound of the running shower continued. He pushed the bathroom door open and stepped inside. The mirror was covered in condensation, and the air was a little foggy from the steam. Through the opaque glass panels of the shower door, he could make out the figure of his wife moving around under the spray of hot water. Even as a shadow she seemed wildly curvy, and he felt his dick twitch. He slowly undressed, wanting to surprise her now. Once fully naked, he slid one of the panels aside, and stepped into the shower, behind his wife. "David!" She exclaimed, turning away and immediately cupping her breasts in her arms, covering up. David thought it was an odd reaction for his wife of almost nineteen years. He liked the shy act, though. His cock grew a little harder. He pulled her closer, and the head of his dick poked into the small of her back. He adjusted it downward, and moved closer. His semi-hard dick slid down the crack of her ass. His right hand slid around, to cup a breast, but found she was fending him off. He grinned, predatorily. This wasn't like her at all. "David," she repeated the name in a harsh whisper. "The kids." "Won't be the only ones getting laid tonight," he finished, and laid a kiss on the back of her shoulder. The soft cleft of her ass cheeks cradled his stiffening dick, and he held her stiffly. He was used to her being the aggressor during sex. The role reversal felt good. He felt manly. He slid a hand down around her upper thigh, then up to twiddle her labia. He avoided direct contact with her clit, as he knew she liked. She was still resisting him, still stiff in his arms. "David, stop," she whispered, more a plea than an instruction. It only made him harder. He decided he was going to fuck her in the ass tonight. He hoped she'd continue the resistant act, it was really working for him. The angle of his cock had become uncomfortable with its rigidness now, and he pulled his hips back to give it room to adjust. Pointing outward, he slowly thrust it against her ass, to signal his intentions. A jolt of pain shot through Vicky at the contact. She was still sore from earlier that day. She jerked away, and turned aside to prevent any more contact with the intruding dick. "David, knock it off. Really. I can't tonight." She still cupped her breasts protectively in her arms. She cast a sideways look, fearfully, at her husband. He seemed confused. David couldn't tell if she was kidding or not. There was no playfulness in her tone though. No twinkle in her eye. He grew concerned. "Are you okay?" He asked, and moved to hug her. "I'm fine," she insisted, and recoiled from the hug. "Just let me finish my shower." She could see the doubt in his eyes, but she'd managed to re-establish control. "I'm fine, really. Go." David nodded, and stepped out of the shower. Vicky didn't move, listening for him to leave. David didn't move either, hoping that she would call him back, show some annoyance that he hadn't played his role in the game properly. Nothing. A flicker of anger flashed through him. Frustration. He was aroused, ready, now. He plucked his clothing off the floor, and carried them with him as he left the bathroom. Back in in the bedroom he dumped them in the hamper, then pulled on his pyjamas. He eyed the tent in the pajama's, where his still stiff dick refused to accept the new program, bitterly. It had been a hell of a day. He lay down on the bed, atop the covers and listened to the drumming of the water. He imagined the cascade of water tumbling off that feminine form. This wasn't helping his erection, he observed. The image of the teenage girls cleavage then sprang into his mind. He tried to shake away the thought. Laughter drifted in from the living room. He thought he could pick out her laugh. He remembered those creamy thighs. Some part of him realized it had been a long time since he'd indulged this animal side of himself. A long time since he'd been the hunter. He hadn't even noticed it had been gone, but it was back now. He resisted the urge to satisfy himself. He didn't want satisfaction like that. Those pretty, innocent eyes looking up at him, horrified. The look had been horror at finding a condom, but the image was easily adapted to his own purpose. Eventually, the sound of the shower ceased. There was a moment of peace, then the blow drier started up. She wanted to be an engineer. Dark fantasies raced through his mind. Crippled black boy. The memory surfaced now, and he felt a twinge of humiliation. The smirking man. Rage began to bubble. He probably knew her parents. Maybe smirk-boy was her dad. This brought a smile to his face. Still, he avoided touching himself, but indulged the fantasy. The bathroom door opened, and he realized the blow drier had stopped. He quickly rolled onto his side, away from his wife. He didn't want her to see his arousal now. It wasn't for her. He heard a drawer open. Vicky watched her husband in the vanity mirror above the dresser as she shrugged off her mini-bathrobe. He didn't turn. Her heart was racing, but she took a moment to admire the hickey under her left nipple. The nipple itself was hardening. She brushed the hickey with a finger, then tweaked the nipple. Still no movement from David. She felt the familiar naughty thrill run through her, and the moistness that always accompanied it. She smiled at herself. Vicky's Story Ch. 02 She'd felt like her world was falling apart earlier, but it had all turned out okay. Brian was safe. She plucked a bra out of her dresser, and put it on. She couldn't imagine sleeping in the thing, the way the straps cut into her shoulders. She'd have to unfasten it later, once David was asleep. She pulled back her side of the covers and slid in. David still lay with his back to her. She could tell he was angry. She wanted to reach out, to touch him, to console him, but there was a gulf between them now. Probably for the best, she thought. She needed to sort some things out. She turned away, and clicked off the light. "I let them have the beer." David spoke in the darkness. She was surprised, a little shocked. She thought she should say something, but his tone indicated he was looking for an argument. She let it go. Still, she felt concerned for her son, though intellectually, she knew he'd be okay. She thought of that girl. Drunk. With Brian. Vicky saw an image of that little bitch Mindy and her sweet Brian rutting away on the couch. Then an image of a tearful Mindy pregnant, Brian leaving her to go off to college. Maybe she'd even arrange for some child support, in exchange for visitation with her grandson. She felt warm all over at the thought. Still, grandson? She wasn't a grandmother. A little bouncing baby boy. Brian's baby boy. A contented smile crossed her lips, and she let herself drift off into a pleasant sleep. -- Several hours later, the subdued party had moved out into the back yard. The last of the beer had been finished, and everyone was nicely buzzed. Tamara was true to her word. Todd was pants less, sitting in a lawn chair, with his legs spread wide. A huge grin was on his face. Tamara's curly brunette hair bounced energetically in his lap. Brian and Mindy were arguing. It was a happy argument. "I'm sixth months older than you." She scowled, "Sixth, six." She was slurring and a little drunk. "You have to do what I say." She insisted. "That's not how it works, I'm the man," he thumped his chest. "You gotta earn it." They both laughed. Tamara's head stopped bobbing. She was shuddering with laughter. Everything was funny to her now. She turned toward Mindy, saliva smeared around her mouth, and spoke. "Well, I'm three days older than you, and I say," she paused, and began to chant, "Mindy, Mindy, Mindy." Todd joined in, hoisting an empty can in salute, "Mindy, Mindy, Mindy." Brian thumped the beat on his chest, "Mindy, Mindy, Mindy." -- David was awakened by the chanting. He checked the time. One thirty AM. He needed to piss. He climbed out of bed. He moved quietly, didn't turn on any lights, and probably made a mess in the bathroom. He didn't want to wake Vicky. He didn't flush either. He crossed back to the window and pulled the curtain aside. -- Mindy stood and faced the small group. She began a halting, slow dance, and reached a hand behind her back. She swayed back and forth, rather drunkenly, but the audience was enthused. They continued their chant. Mindy lowered the zipper at the back of her top, then, with an attempted flourish, let the cheerleader outfit fall away. Tamara giggled again, then stopped her part of the chant. She returned to sucking Todd, bobbing in time to the rhythm. -- David stood transfixed, afraid to breathe. He'd already dropped his pyjama bottoms around his ankles, and was watching Mindy's strip show, afraid even to blink. He slowly fisted his cock in time to the chant that was muffled by the glass of the window. -- Mindy noticed the white face against the black background in the window, but tried not to give any indication that she'd seen. She slowly turned a three sixty, then crooked her finger at Tom, who struggled to get up onto one foot, obediently. She turned away, and locked her knees, thrusting her firm butt out, presenting. Brian hobbled over, and gave her a slap on the ass. She wiggled appreciatively, and Brian finally undid the clasp to her bra. Mindy turned back, and pushed Brian away. He allowed himself to fall backward, onto the extended lawn chair, making a playful heart broken face. She smirked, and let the shoulder straps of the bra fall away. Carefully, she let her arms drop to her sides, the bra now held on only by the friction of her skin and the curve of her breasts. Todd seemed to be struggling to maintain control, but he was losing it. He gripped Tamara's hair, and began to shudder. Mindy let the bra fall away. In the window, she could see the rhythmic bounce of the figure's shoulder. She struck a few poses, then, fingering the elastic waist of her panties, said, "I'm going to need a little help with these." Brian looked eager. He hobbled forward, but Mindy stepped away. He tried to chase, but she circled back toward Todd, who sat looking thoroughly satisfied in the lawn chair. Tamara intercepted Brian. Cum was leaking from her mouth, down onto her cleavage, and staining the front of her sweater. She put a hand on Brian's chest, to hold the eager boy back. "This requires a woman's touch." She informed him. She moved over to join Mindy, and the two girls held each other giggling for a moment. They both looked back toward the boys, then Tamara pushed a thick glob of cum out of her mouth. It hung, trailing from her lip, before Mindy bent to get below it, and let it drop into her mouth. "MmmmmmMMmm" Mindy hummed, appreciatively. Brian couldn't breathe. He was undoing his pants. The girls giggled again. Todd groaned. Tamara presented her back to Mindy, who promptly unzipped her. Tamara's uniform fell to the ground. Her bra soon followed. The girls made a show of posing together, holding each other, while Mindy lapped cum off of Tamara's breasts. She scooped some onto a finger, and fed it back to Tamara. Brian had his dick out now and was openly masturbating in front of the girls. They slid to the ground and Tamara lay back. Mindy pulled her panties off, and the brunette girl spread her legs to display herself. Mindy bent down and flicked a tongue at her clit, while eyeing Brian. Todd was out of it. It was Mindy's turn to lay back. Tamara tugged her friends panties off roughly, then pushed the thighs apart. Moisture glistened on the girls shaven mound. Tamara pressed a single finger into her, and Mindy let out a throaty groan. It was too much for Brian. He began to spurt his seed onto the lawn. Thick white ropes of semen jetted out of him, falling uselessly at his feet. The girls giggled. Brian stumbled back to the lawn chair, and collapsed. Mindy joined him, and whispered apologies. She shared a grin with Tamara. "I think we were too hard on him." She suggested. "This one too." Tamara sighed, curling up in front of Todd. Mindy noticed the face in the window was still pumping. -- David was silent. Several times he had been at the edge of orgasm, but had stopped and let the feeling subside. He then began again, slower. -- Brian, somewhat drunk, tired, and now spent, was fast lapsing into unconsciousness. Mindy gave him a kiss on the cheek, regretting her prolonged tease. Still, she was fairly worked up, and needed a release of her own. "I'm sorry," she whispered in his ear, and she meant it. Both for what she had done, and knew she was going to do. She stood, and slowly walked over to face the figure in the window. It didn't retreat. Mindy lay down directly in front of the window, legs spread toward the figure, and began working her own clit with her finger. She looked up into David's face and felt the earlier connection they'd formed renew. -- He stopped pumping, and she noticed. She stopped. There was no decision to make. He tilted his head toward the back door. -- "Come on, Tammy." Mindy whispered. Todd was dozing now, and Tamara was lazily masturbating in front of him. Her head resting on his lap. -- David stood nude in the kitchen when the door squeaked a little on its hinges, and the two naked girls entered. They didn't say anything. They just stood with their arms around each other, waiting. David fell on them like a wolf after sheep. Mindy was pinned to the wall, while David buried his face in her crotch. She felt his tongue invade her. His left hand slid up to grip a breast. His free hand found Tamara's wrist, and he pulled her down, roughly. There was no coaxing. Only insistence. She went to her knees, and he grasped her hair. He pulled it toward his penis. She didn't need any more encouragement. He felt warm lips engulf his cock. Tamara continued to masturbate. Mindy gasped. Besides her own hand, her only previous sexual experience had been Tammy's finger invading her only minutes before. That and the porn that no girl living through the internet age could avoid. Now waves of sensation shot through her. She could feel this man's sexual desire in his greedy sucking at her labia, and the probing of his tongue. He was claiming her. She tingled. He shifted position quickly, and the girls obeyed eagerly. This time, Mindy's mouth was on his dick, while Tamara straddled his face. Tamara's thighs gripped at his head powerfully. He worried for a moment that she might smother him, but that fear quickly passed. She tried to get his head in her arms too, but the angle was impossible, and she bucked her pelvis at his mouth like she was trying to fuck him. She began to whimper. Mindy's inexperienced mouth wasn't doing a lot for him, but she was trying. Mostly she just literally sucked on the head. Tamara was really starting to scare him. She was bucking hard, trying to get her pussy further down onto his tongue. Her thighs were like a vice, and he began to wonder if her orgasm would break his neck. Suddenly, the pressure seemed to increase exponentially, and the girl dug her fingers into his scalp. The bucking slowed, and she began to grunt like she was in pain. Mindy was relieved to witness her friend's orgasm. As her bucking stopped, she fell to the side, and curled up in the foetal position. She knew she wasn't giving very good head, the cock in her mouth had actually softened a bit, and she was grateful when David, a feral look on his face, pushed her, then grabbed at an ankle to pull her legs out forward, so she was laying on her back. She lay with her arms crossed over her breasts, she was cold, not shy, with her legs curled in a foetal manner. He crawled up above her. She looked into those eyes and saw only animal lust. He was pressing at her vagina now. She was scared. She reached out to his face, and caressed a cheek. "I haven't." She said, simply. She could see he didn't care. At all. Mercilessly, he pushed into her. He watched her pained expression hungrily. He pushed further. She gasped. She tapped at his shoulder, hoping that he would read the signal to stop. He understood, but didn't obey. He pushed further. Pain filled eyes looked into his, and he saw the surrender. Her legs tightened around his waist. He pushed all the way in, and was balls deep in the virginal Mindy Fullsome. He held there. Her grip on his waist had tightened as he had gone deeper, but now she relaxed a little. Slowly, he withdrew. A think trickle of blood leaked down, over her ass hole, down her back, and began to form a small pool on the linoleum floor. He was halfway out when he reversed, and rammed deep into her again, hard. She shuddered in pain. Her breathing was ragged. She grunted as the waves of pain rolled in, then ebbed. Her eyes flashed open. Angry. He loved it. Slowly, he pulled out. She winced as fresh sparks of pain flashed through her, caused now by the sudden void. He thrust back in. Not quite so much pain now. She bore it. She tried to maintain eye contact, but he could see the change in her pupil dilation when she was concentrating on the sensations wracking her young body. He fucked her then, beginning a slow rhythm. She shuddered, and he felt her first orgasm. He didn't stop. He didn't really care. He maintained a slow rhythm, stopping to let his own rising orgasm subside, then started up again. He kept that up for an unknown amount of time. He was lost in the feeling. Lost in the moment. Deflowering this pretty young woman. He wanted to ruin her. He felt the animal, lizard-like need to wreck her pussy, to mark her, make her his. She had cum a second time, when he finally allowed himself to climax. He shoved himself deep into her, and felt the long spurts of his ejaculation. It had been a long time since he had cum like that. These days, it was more like a maintenance kind of thing. He remembered his youth and the explosive ejaculations he'd had. He felt like he was in the throes of one of those now. He saw the fear in the girl's eyes now. She turned away from him. He revelled in it. He lay on top of her for several long minutes, softening. They didn't speak. She caressed his back, and kissed his face. He didn't reciprocate. Finally, he pushed up, off of her, and surveyed the damage. She tried to cover up with her hands, but he grabbed at her wrists and pulled them clear. Cum and blood oozed out of her. Tiredly, he stood. He wanted to laugh. To shout. To proclaim his victory. Mindy knew what he wanted to see. She tried to look defeated, and spread her sore pussy lips with her fingers. More pooled cum and blood. He drank in the sight. Still, neither spoke. She got into a kneeling position in front of him. The hungry look was still there. His softened cock hung before her, wet, bloody. She closed her eyes, and raised her mouth to it, finding the cock head with her tongue. She sucked it in, and slurped. For her efforts, she got the coppery flavor of blood, and briefly tasted the last bits of semen. He didn't harden, but that wasn't the point. Tenderly, she sucked him clean. Briefly, she glanced up at him, but thought she caught a look of disgust in his eye. She didn't look again. Finished, she let the flaccid penis slide out of her mouth. The silence remained unbroken, even as David stepped away from the girl, and stumbled back to his bedroom. Nearby, naked Tamara was curled up on the cold linoleum floor, sleeping. Mindy crawled over to her, and hugged her friend close, feeling the warmth. She'd felt suddenly very alone and afraid, but Tammy was so full of life and joy, even in her sleep, she had the power to banish such fears and doubts. Mindy rested her head her friends shoulder, and tried not to think about what had just happened. Sleep claimed her moments later. Vicky's Story Ch. 03 Vicky should have been disgusted. The living room, kitchen and back patio were all littered with empty beer cans. Outside, she could see her son, curled up, still asleep on a reclining lawn chair. He had no pants on. Neither did Todd Hoskins, from what she could tell, though the boy was faced away from her. She started the coffee maker, rattling the pot into place, which caused the two cheerleader's, asleep, naked on the linoleum, to stir. A dried, caked pool of semen and blood stained the floor, and a thin trail led to the thinner of the two girls. Blood stained the backs of her thighs, ass, and back. She should have been disgusted but she wasn't. She was actually proud of the boys. She stood over the two naked girls, and admired the sight for a moment, before kneeling down, and gently slapping the one whom had introduced herself as Mindy the day before, gently on the cheek. "Wake up, honey. It's time to wake up." The girls eyes fluttered open, then winced at the pain the morning light brought her, and shut her eyes tightly again. She groaned. "My boy. Eighteen, a man, and still leaving his toys laying around." Vicky said, softly, in a wistful tone. "Where?" The girl croaked, disoriented. She seemed to realize she was naked then, and quickly tried to cover up. "Little late for that, honey," Vicky noted. She'd collected the girls' clothes, which had been discarded outside the night before, and she now held them out to Mindy. Mindy snatched the offered articles away quickly, as if expecting Vicky to pull them away at the last second. Vicky noted the missed opportunity to toy with the girl. Mindy hoped the shame she felt at being found like this wasn't completely obvious. She knew something wasn't right here, now that memories were drifting back to her. She'd expected anger from Mrs. Thompson. There should be screaming. Kicking. She cracked an eye, wondering for a moment if the woman were holding a weapon. There was no anger on the woman's face. Just and expression of, what exactly? Satisfaction? Mindy recalled the words she had heard on being wakened. "My boy..." she had said. At that moment she hadn't been able to understand anything, but realization began to dawn on her now. She thought Brian was responsible for her current state. She had to get out of here. Before Brian saw her like this. Internally, she raged at herself. What had she done? How had she allowed this to happen to herself? She reflected this was the sort of situation one might read about in some trashy porno magazine, although there the pervert boyfriend would probably get turned on by his girlfriend's behaviour. She didn't think it was likely to play out like that, and she didn't want it to. Her sweet Brian would never treat her like some cheap whore to be toyed with and discarded. She remembered the sense of intimacy she had shared with Brian the evening before. It had been the realization of years of fantasies. She'd had the boy she loved. He'd loved her in turn. Now it was all turning to ash. Everything would be gone. He would hate her. She deserved to be hated, she thought bitterly. Vicky prodded her with a foot. "Come on, get up." Clumsily, trying not to give in to the increasing urge to vomit, Mindy struggled to get onto her feet. Her legs felt wobbly and weak beneath her. With one eye cracked, she sorted out the two cheerleader uniforms, and spread Tammy's over the other girl as an improvised blanket. Then, she struggled to step into her underwear, and managed to do so without falling over. She abandoned any thought of getting the bra on, but pulled the one-piece dress over her head. She needed to go. Now. Wordlessly, Mindy turned toward the front room and began to stumble toward the stairs leading to the foyer. She felt the need to cover her mouth with a hand, for a moment, but the beginnings of the heave subsided. Right now she needed both hands to grip the banister on the stairs. Vicky followed along, not offering any help to the girl. Rather, she was saying, "Nice girls don't vomit in their boyfriend's house. They also have the good grace to clean up their spunk mess after fucking him on his mother's kitchen floor." Mindy ignored the jibe. She was concentrating on negotiating the steps. A knee buckled and she almost tumbled down the stairs. She sank to sit on the stairs, defeated. She wasn't going to get out of here. She couldn't walk all the way home, like this. Even if she did, the whole town would see her half dressed, hungover, fucked out, and she was sure they would all know exactly what had happened. She wiped at a tear welling up in her eyes, turning toward the wall so Vicky wouldn't see, and felt the crust of a dried drop of sperm on her cheek. She shuddered with a silent sob. Vicky stood a couple of stairs above, watching the girls pathetic attempt to leave with a mixture of bitter amusement and a twinge of sympathy. For a moment Vicky saw herself in Mindy's position. Saw David's mother standing over her, witnessing her shame. She felt suddenly angry. The evil old bitch. The moment passed, but the hate was quickly vanishing. In a voice filled with resignation, Vicky spoke to the girl. "Come on, let's get you up." She stepped down to Mindy's level and tried to take the girl's hand. Mindy pulled away. She can't wait to get rid of me, she thought, self-pityingly. Vicky squatted down beside the girl, and she felt the similarity she'd noticed before between herself and this girl strengthen. She stroked the girl's hair, and hooked a stray tuft, dangling in front of her face, back behind an ear. Softly, she spoke again, "Come on, you can't leave like this. If your father ever saw you," Mindy cringed when Vicky said this, "he'd probably sue me. Brian would probably kill me for letting you leave like this." Still no further response. "Look, there's a guest washroom in the basement. It has a shower, so you can get cleaned up, and you'll have some privacy." Again, no response. Mindy hated herself for the feeling of gratitude that was welling up inside her. At the same time, she thought she recognized the trick. Keep her around, put her on display. All so Mrs. Thompson could revel in Mindy's humiliation. Probably wanted pictures for the family album. Vicky could see the anger flashing in the girl's eyes, now that she was no longer turned away. She covered her mouth to stop the laugh. More anger now. Yet, she understood it. She knew what she would be thinking in this girls position. They hadn't exactly gotten off on the right foot. "No tricks. I promise. In my youth, I may have found myself in similar positions." Mindy's expression softened, but there was still doubt. Vicky patted the girl's cheek, then, gingerly, with a fingernail scraped the drop of dried cum off her face. "I'll toss your clothes in the washer, there's a hot shower, and there's even a clean toilet to throw up into." She said, as if offering a special bonus. It wasn't particularly funny, but the the offer of help and comfort had come from an unexpected source, and she really was grateful. She snorted a bit of a laugh. Vicky smiled with her. She patted the girl gently on the back. "Come on, I'll make sure you don't fall." -- David Thompson woke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee, a quiet house, and a youthful vigour. He lay still for a moment, fully conscious of the previous night's events, but without any sense of apprehension. He felt good. He tossed the blankets aside, and jumped out of bed. The sun was up and shining through his bedroom window. He twisted the blinds open and basked in the warm sun rays on his naked form. A minute later he was striding into the kitchen, still naked. He expected to find his wife there, and the kids gone. Quite the opposite was true. The coffee pot was full, and hot, but there was no sign of Vicky. Instead, Tamara lay there, still curled up under her cheerleader uniform, but not wearing it. He smiled. She looked so contented. He went over to the sleeping girl, and peeled back the uniform, to get a better look at her. He was stiffening, but that had been the goal. Soft, full breasts heaved slowly and regularly as she slept. He knelt down and kissed her on the forehead. "Morning, sunshine." He whispered softly, more at her than to her. He didn't expect a response. She stirred a little. He pulled the uniform clear of her form, then slid a hand between her thighs. She didn't resist. He pulled at a leg, and she rolled onto her back easily. He kept coaxing, and unconscious as she was, she let her legs be spread. He was fully hard now, but he knew he couldn't give in to his urges. He told himself he'd just wanted a look. To be eighteen and single again, he sighed wistfully. It was enough, he knew. It was enough to be able to do this. To be here and be able to look. To know if he wanted to, he could have her. He bent and softly kissed her labia, taking a deep breath, soaking up her scent. He felt so powerful. He straightened, and noticed that her eyes were open. She was smiling sleepily at him. She spread her legs a little farther. The invitation was almost too much to resist, but he stood anyway. His erection pointed out like a threat. She twisted on the floor below him. Wriggled. It was a welcome threat. He took a deep breath and turned to grab a mug and help himself to the coffee pot. He almost spilled it when he felt an arm slide around from behind him and grasp his erection. The hand slowly began to massage the length, back and forth. A warm body pressed into him from behind, all softness and curves. Another hand curled around him, this one running across his sparsely haired chest. The voice was sweet, but he could hear how tired she really was, "Thanks for last night." The hand continued to work his cock slowly, while he asked, "Like some coffee?" He was always trying to get her to drink coffee, she noted. "Nope. I'll take some cream though." Her hand squeezed him. Outside, he could see Brian and Todd, each curled up in their lawn chairs, necks at bad angles, sleeping. "Those chairs don't look too comfortable." David observed. He felt the girls cheek rest against his back. Her hand hadn't stopped pumping slowly. "Neither was the floor." It was said without accusation or bitterness. Just an observation. He smiled at that, but took hold of her wrist and pulled it free of his cock. He turned to face her. There was still a playful grin on her face. She hugged him again, then leaned back, looking down at his erection which was now poking at her waist. Another not-quite-innocent, enquiring look. "Got anything to eat?" She was sinking to her knees now. This had to stop. He caught her under her shoulders and lifted her back to her feet. "Maybe you should go out and fetch Todd. There's a guest room downstairs. You two can sleep, and whatever else, down there." "Thank you." She stood back up, onto her tip toes, and kissed his cheek. Time to get dressed, he decided, a bit sourly. He started off, then felt a hand slap against his ass, and heard a laugh. He had to laugh too. Damn, he was loving life this morning. A perfect day to sneak out for some golf. -- Mindy was sitting in the tub, her legs curled up against her chest, her arms hugging them tightly. Her face was turned down to avoid the spray of warm water that sprinkled over her from the shower head. Her dark hair hung wetly around her, like a curtain, shutting out the world. She trembled a little, despite the warmth of the water. There was a knot in her stomach. She remembered the previous evening with perfect clarity. Sure, she'd been a little drunk, maybe a lot drunk, but she didn't feel like it was any excuse. She could remember the decisions she'd made, and didn't try to excuse herself from them. Poor, sweet, Brian. Why had she teased him so mercilessly. She'd been having fun, and had been apprehensive, but she'd resolved that she wanted to be with him, to please him, fairly early on in the night. Why couldn't she just have let him have her? She wondered. The look of pure lust on his face, the desperation that was so obvious in his bearing, it all came back to her. The knot remained, but it made her happy. He'd wanted her, just as she had wanted him. Why hadn't he been more forceful? She imagined Brian chasing her, cornering her. Lifting her and carrying her to his bed. His warm body pinning her, needy, groping hands running over her body. The fantasy sent a warmth rushing through her. She thought of him kissing her. Renewed horror. Had he even gotten around to kissing her? It was suddenly important, and she held her breath, trying to recall a moment when their lips had met. A moment of intimacy shared just between the two of them. She couldn't recall one. There had been moments, holding hands on the couch, the comfort they shared, the laughter. But no kiss. I'm sorry, Brian, she thought, which such force she imagined he might hear it in his sleep. He should have just taken her. She would have been willing. Should have taken her. She closed her eyes, and in that darkness saw Mr. Thompson's hungry, intense face staring back at her. Like that. He had such strong hands, and he knew what he was after. One of her arms released it's grip on her legs, and her now free hand found it's way down between her thighs, to gently rub her pussy. She felt a numbness there. A reminder of how callous he had been. Another shudder of excitement shook her. He hadn't asked. Hadn't been concerned about pleasing her. He'd just taken what he wanted, and in pleasing himself, he had satisfied her in a profound sort of way. She hadn't been worried about whether she was doing what he liked, she just knew that if he wanted her to do something, he would have made her do it. She knew he had been pleased, even if nothing in his expression had shown it. She realized that she truly felt like a woman. Yesterday, she wouldn't have been comfortable with the label. She still thought of herself as a girl. A woman was something older. More experienced. Maybe a mother. Yet now, she could identify with it. It wasn't just the sex, she felt like it had happened when she'd recognized the need in the man's face, and had satisfied it. No compromise, no offer of quid pro quo. He'd taken, and she'd gotten what she needed out of it. In a strange sort of way, she realized that she had taken him. "Knock, knock." She heard Mrs. Thompson calling through the door from the hallway. Mindy didn't answer. There was a minute of silence. Mindy's hand had stopped, and she was covering herself now. She tried not to breathe, listening. Had she made any noise that might betray what she had been doing? Thinking about? "Mindy? Are you okay in there?" Mindy listened to the voice, examining it. She wasn't really listening to Mrs. Thompson's voice, but checking her own reaction to it. She realized there was no guilt there. She'd had sex with this woman's husband, in her house, while she slept, but she didn't regret it beyond what it might mean for Brian and herself. "Mindy?" The older woman asked again, the voice clearer now. The door must be open. "I'm okay," Mindy offered, in a shaky voice. Mrs. Thompson was clearly trying to be nice, but Mindy didn't want to trust the woman. "Okay. Take as long as you like. I brought some clothes for you, if you wanted to change. One of Brian's shirts," she mentioned, with a hopeful note, "and a pair of jeans I use for gardening. I'm afraid they might be a little big, and well, most of my clothes might not be," she almost said suitable, but switched to "to your tastes." "Thank you," Mindy said, in a deeply, but still shaky, heart-felt voice. Now that the morning had come, she felt a little ridiculous running around in a cheerleader uniform. On the other side of the shower curtain, Vicky felt relief at the gratitude in the girl's voice. From the moment she'd seen herself in Mindy's shoes, she'd been regretting her cold, cruel attitude. Maybe it had been jealousy, then perhaps she'd been a little protective of Brian. Yet, the memory of the girl, desperate to leave the house, to flee Vicky's presence, had made the older woman feel a sense of shame, and a little fear. She also didn't want Brian to blame her for running his first serious girlfriend off. "I'll just leave them on the counter." Vicky said, and paused. The water's drumming sound was even and regular, not like one would expect if it were splashing off a moving figure, or even a standing one. There was no heavy note, like it should make if it were falling any distance in a stream. The shower almost sounded empty. Vicky understood, and gingerly lowered the lid on the toilet, to sit. Still no reply from the girl. "Do you want to talk about it?" Vicky asked, and felt annoyance at herself for the motherly note in her voice. "I mean, if your embarrassed, don't be. If there's anything your worried about, maybe I can help?" Still too motherly. "My first time was with a boy named Joel Griesbach. I had a bit of a crush on him through junior high. So one night, he invites me over to a party at his place. Turned out to be him, three of his buddies, and some beer." She paused, considering the next line. "So we have that in common at least." Not motherly. "Anyway, Joel was after me all evening, and well, I guess I wasn't putting up too much of a fight. We went into his bedroom, and it was all over fairly quickly. Anyway, afterward he's laying next to me, in the dark, and asks me if I would be, and the word he really used was, 'Cool' with 'doing' his friends. I refused. I think I hit him. He got mad, stole my clothes, and I ended up walking home, wearing just a bath towel I stole from the bathroom. They passed my underwear around at school like trophies for the rest of the year." More silence. "After that, I can honestly say my high school dates weren't boring." There was a snort from the shower. A laugh that had squirted out. She imagined the smile on the girl's face, and shared it. There hadn't been any bitterness in Vicky's voice. She'd long since gotten over any anger caused by the memory. In her nastier moments, Vicky had mused that she might have missed an opportunity there. Vicky pulled the shower curtain out, to peer in at the girl. Mindy crossed her ankles, and renewed her grip on her legs, but she was smiling. "Was it as bad as that? Remember, I'm his mother, say the word and I'll make sure he doesn't lay a hand on another girl until he's forty." The smile widened, but she shook her head. "No, no. It wasn't like that. It was," she couldn't say directly to this woman, though she wanted to let her know it was good. Vicky nodded her understanding, and she watched as a cloud came over the girl's face. "I'm sorry," Mindy muttered and turned away. Where before the woman's cold demeanour had kept Mindy from feeling any real regret for what had happened with Mr. Thompson, she couldn't continue to hate this woman, who had just, unexpectedly, bared a piece of her soul. She'd felt the need to apologize, even if she couldn't explain why. Vicky reached into the shower and turned the knobs to shut off the water, then opened the curtains and draped a towel around the younger woman's shoulders. She knelt beside the tub, and wrapped an arm around the girl. "First rule about being a woman is: Never Apologize. You didn't do anything wrong, it's always his fault." Mindy rolled her eyes dramatically, but couldn't suppress a giddy giggle. The unexpected kindness had torn down her defences. "Second rule: Always put your best foot forward. Or something like that. I forgot that one myself last night." Her voice dipped from cheery to sincerity. "I'm sorry about the way I spoke to you last night. You didn't deserve that." Vicky's Story Ch. 03 Mindy thought she did, but didn't express it. The voice was cheerful again. "And I'm really, really, sorry you had to see me like that. I promise, it won't happen again." She squeezed Mindy's shoulder. "At times like this, I could always count on Brian to give me a hand, help me get back on my feet, at least when he was younger. Now he's just ashamed of me. Plus, drunk. And pants less. In the back yard. Not really any kind of condition to be of any help. At least not to me, though, " Vicky grinned at the girl. "Maybe to you." Mindy blushed, and Vicky asked, "I'll help you if you help me?" Mindy nodded, her voice still shaky. "Deal." "Good," Vicky bounced to her feet with a sudden rush of youthful energy. "T-shirt and jeans, strike one." She glanced in the mirror and frowned. Her plain black, mid-thigh length, skirt and ordinary blue blouse had been the products of a more conservative frame of mind. Totally unsuitable for her new purpose. "Strike two," she said to her reflection. She turned and disappeared out of the bathroom. "I'll be right back." Mindy was feeling the chill of the cooling water, and stood to get out of the shower. She quickly towelled off, then examined her nude body in the mirror. Between the patches of numbness and the more pervasive, but dull, throbbing soreness, she'd expected her labia to appear more swollen, maybe bruised, yet, at least visually, it appeared unchanged. No welts or bruises anywhere else she could find either. She eyed herself in the mirror with a cold eye, and thought, Pussy. The turned to survey her butt, and a wicked thought occurred to her. She could no longer offer Brian her virgin mouth or vagina, but she still had one virginity remaining. She was interrupted by an observational voice. Vicky had returned. "Most guys don't actually like anal. It's mostly fantasy, from what I can tell. The brutality of it. From what I've heard, they don't like to get their dick dirty like that." Mindy looked a little shocked. Vicky shrugged it off. "You were looking at your ass in the mirror, it was kind of obvious." Their eyes met in the mirror and they shared a laugh. Vicky deposited a tin full of make-up and some folded clothing on the counter. She picked out a bright red item and flicked it out, displaying a sequined mini-dress with a deep plunging neckline. "I think red will look great on you. You've also got a couple of sizes on me, but my son claims this dress is way to small for me anyway." Vicky's voice drew solemn, and she pulled a plastic tube containing a red jumble of cloth from the tin. "If you like it, the dress is yours, but in a dress like that, underwear is probably the most important accessory. I had a rule for that dress. I would never reuse the same underwear. Always a new set of panties. At the end of the evening, if I had to, I would cut up the used ones. Usually, I would just have the," her voice caught, noticeably, "um, husband, tear them off of me." She tried to look mischievous, but the hesitation had ruined the moment. She held out the tube, as if bestowing a valuable treasure. Mindy accepted it with mock humility. "Thank you, sensei." She giggled. Next, Vicky pulled a pair of sewing shears from the tin, then, standing next to the still nude Mindy, she looked herself up and down. "Look at me. I look like a, a," she stammered, pretending she couldn't finish the sentence. "A mom." Mindy finished, disapprovingly, before giggling into her hand. Vicky nodded with a frown. She presented the shears to Mindy, and closed her eyes. "It has to be done." Mindy hesitated, certain she must have mistaken the woman's intention, but then pinched at Vicky's blouse, gathering up the material in her fingers. Vicky nodded, and Mindy grinned again. The shears cut into the fabric. Smooth, golden skin peeked through the growing slit in the fabric. Vicky raised her arm, and Mindy continued her cut up the side of the blouse, to the arm, and along it to the wrist. Cutting the smooth, soft material felt wonderful. As more and more flesh became visible, exposing the feminine curve of the woman's hip at first, then the concave line of her waist, and upward to expose the outside swell of a breast, Mindy was caught up in the visceral thrill of shredding Vicky's clothing. She avoided any major cuts that would cause the blouse to fall away in a single piece, but chopped it to bits, exposing a little at a time. Vicky looked pleased by Mindy's attention to detail. Soon enough the blouse was gone, and Mindy was shredding the skirt. It too fell away. Vicky stood, a rapturous look on her face, in her lacy white bra and panties, and said, "Keep going." Mindy noticed the woman's erect nipples through the tight fabric, and realized her own were stiff and sensitive too. She knew what to do. She knelt before Vicky, and pushed the woman's thighs apart. A warm finger pulled the elastic lining of the woman's panties away from her pubic mound. A cold, sharp steel blade then inserted itself, crossing over her moistening labia. Vicky felt a prickle of pain as the sharp point poked at the opposite thigh. There was a prolonged metallic snip as the blades cut easily through the material. The steel blade pulled away, but reappeared at the hip. Another snip, and the tight, destroyed, garment fell away. Mindy stood, but slid the cold blade along the woman's hip, then over her belly, and traced over a large breast, snagging a nipple, and sending a jolt through the woman. Mindy inserted it, diagonally, into the cup, and pushed the sharp point down, toward the nipple. There was a gasp when the point gently poked against the stiffened aureola. Another prolonged snip as Mindy carefully cut into the bra cup. Vicky visibly winced. The point was still pressed against a nipple, and she clearly expected to feel the pinch of the blade when they came together at the end of the cut. There was no blood. The blade advanced, and cut again. Half the cup fell away, exposing the bottom half of the pink, swollen nipple. Without a conscious thought of what she was doing, Mindy closed her lips around the tip of the breast, grasping the nipple in her teeth. She pulled away, stretching the flesh, before it tore free and snapped back. Vicky shuddered again. Mindy snipped away the other cup, in the same manner as the first, and then, with a sigh, snapped the shoulder straps, and the wreckage of the bra fluttered to the floor. Vicky stood for a moment, unmoving, before her soft blue, almond shaped eyes opened into a dreamy expression. Vicky's arm reached out to Mindy, and a warm hand rested gently on her hip. The soft pressure of the fingertips beckoned Mindy closer, and she obeyed without hesitation. They each watched the others eyes as Vicky's mouth closed on Mindy's, then turned her head and gently brushed her lips over the younger woman's. Mindy began to feel an urgency growing inside her. She knew what she wanted, and what Vicky wanted too, at that moment. She slid back to her knees, until the thin, wispy strip of Vicky's pubic hair were inches from her nose. Hands grasped her shoulders, and the woman stepped back. Mindy felt a moment of confusion, then shame. She'd misread Vicky's intentions. Vicky shook her head, seeing the flush in Mindy's cheeks. She quickly stepped forward again, but brought herself to a kneel next to Mindy. "Thank you, but Brian would never forgive me." Vicky herself was flushed with arousal, but her blue eyes were widening, with a plea for understanding. Mindy still felt embarrassed, but the spell was broken, and she felt grateful that the woman had stopped her before things went too far. They hugged, and Vicky guided her to sit atop the toilet lid, fetching her tin of make up. She first brushed the girl's hair, as it was already drying. She was impressed with how thick and full it was, and took pleasure in the rhythm of the long slow strokes. "Don't take this the wrong way, but, I always wanted a daughter. To brush her hair, like my mother did mine." Vicky said, in a deeply relaxed, reflective voice. Mindy grinned. "My mom did too, when I was younger." "You grew out of it? I mean, if you want to..." Vicky started. Mindy shushed her. "It makes me feel, well, it makes me..." Vicky said it instead, "It makes me feel closer to you." "Yeah." When she was done, Vicky fetched an eyebrow pencil, but hesitated with the tip poised in position. The girl's skin was pale, and now, up close, she appreciated how it contrasted against her dark, but fairly sparse, eyebrows. She liked the look, and found she didn't want to obliterate it for something as tawdry as perfection. It seemed like one of those little attributes that made a person beautiful, and real. She put away the pencil. They took turns applying each others mascara, each finding themselves being watched by the other, and feeling the earlier arousal return. Both nude, vulnerable, in the power, for the moment, of the other. They were past the notion of sex now though, and they were fast getting more and more comfortable with the other, able to appreciate the sexual tension like a fine liquor, rather than an imperative. Mindy finished applying the mascara to Vicky, who batted her lashes experimentally, then took on an expression of fear, "But, but, it's so big." They both laughed. Mindy twisted and leaned over to check her own mascara in the mirror. She attempted to mimic Vicky's expression, and said, "You promise you'll pull out right?" They laughed, then Vicky stopped suddenly, and wrinkled her nose. "You're sick." Mindy sneered, and lifted a leg. She pressed her middle finger to her clit and pushed the flesh of her pussy around. "Your boy loves it." Vicky's eyes flashed with amusement. "He'd better." She lifted a tube of bright red lipstick, and twisted it open. She stared straight into Mindy's eyes, then dipped a finger into her own pussy and dragged it through her gash once. She then lifted it to Mindy's lips, and pressed it between them. She briefly explored the girl's mouth, then hooked the finger onto the lower front teeth and pulled her mouth open. She began to apply the lipstick liberally. "You can keep this tube too. If I don't get a picture in the next few days of this lipstick smeared all over my son's cock, I'm telling your parents all about this." Mindy shuddered with laughter, but she tried to keep her face still, fearing she would smear the lipstick application. It was soon Vicky's turn. "How will you know it's your son's cock?" Vicky shook with laughter, and the lipstick did smear a little. The rouge was applied next, and they both huddled around the mirror, attempting to coif their hair properly, assisted by a liberal dose of hairspray, each. Finally, they stood before the mirror, still nude, each with an arm casually around the other, and appraised each other with appreciative eyes. Mindy reached for the tube of panties still on the counter, when Vicky stopped her. "One more thing." She pulled a digital camera from the box. She held it up, and crooked an eyebrow. "Okay?" Mindy nodded, "Yeah." "Good." She set up the camera on the counter, directly in front of the mirror, so they could check their pose. "Big smile," Vicky ordered. "Pretend your dad's boss is over for dinner, and he's deciding whether to fuck you and let daddy keep his job. Gotta sell it." "What's he look like?" Mindy said, in a flirtatious tone, beaming at the dirty thought. "Mid-fifties, fat, breathes through his mouth. Really greasy. Dad's crying, begging you not to go along with it." Vicky beamed brightly into the camera, while Mindy couldn't help the wicked smile on her face. Click. "Where do you come up with that stuff?" Mindy asked, opening the tube, then stepping into the panties. She dragged them up over her hips. "The internet. I'll show you a couple sites some time." She was pulling on a black top. The front hung loose and open, two long straps unconnected from each other. She pulled them across each other, under her breasts, and gathered up the flesh as she pulled the halves tight. She then knotted the two haves together in the middle. A pair of frilly strips of cloth attached to each shoulder strap gave the impression that the bra-like top had sleeves. She then adjusted the cups so a bright pink nipple edge poked out on each side. Next, she pulled on her panties, bright white, with more frills attached to a string which ran from her crotch covering up through her ass cheeks. Finally, she pulled on a short skirt, with wire inserts. The wires flared the skirt out, giving it the appearance that she had twirled in it, and it had frozen in place. Black pumps, with silver spike heels, that laced up over the calf, completed the outfit. Mindy was still fidgeting with her panties. She was trying to pull the triangle of fabric that covered the front down further. "There's no crotch. You just pull that little spaghetti strap up, so it's between your lips." "What if my skirt blows up or something?" "That's the idea." Mindy felt a bit apprehensive about the idea now, but didn't say anything. She pulled the red dress down over her head. It hung fairly loosely on the young girl's slender body, but it worked for her. The plunging neckline reached to her stomach, and in the loose shoulder straps, the full outline of her perky, young breasts could be seen from either side. The sequins fit snugly over her hips, and where they gathered at the front and back, the hemline jutted upward, threatening to expose her. The bright red emphasized her pale skin, and freckles stood out over her chest and shoulders. A glance in the mirror made her smile. "Should we go wake up the boys?" Vicky asked. Mindy shook her head. "I'm not ready for that yet. I mean, last night, and well, I really just want to go home. Vicky didn't really understand, but nodded anyway. "Leave 'em wanting more. Got it. I'll grab my keys and we're gone." Mindy quietly made her way to the front door, and retrieved the uniform Vicky had folded and left there. She found her sneakers, but as they looked absurd with her new dress, she decided to go barefoot. Vicky reappeared, twirling her keyring. "Still sleeping. Their loss." She breezed out the door. Mindy followed Mrs. Thompson to the garage. Vicky pushed a button hanging from her keyring, and the garage door began to swing upward. An ice blue Mustang sat next to the mini-van in the double garage. Vicky made for the sports car. "Nice car. My dad would be jealous of Mr. Thompson." Mindy observed. Vicky stopped at the rear bumper, and shook her head at the girl. "Oh no, dear. David isn't allowed to touch my baby." She tapped a finger at the vanity plate. FST LDY. "He has the van." The girls exchanged another wicked grin. Then Vicky surprised the girl by tossing her the keys. "You drive." Mindy's eyebrows went up. "You sure?" Vicky nodded, and shrugged. "Heels. I should have thought of that before." They climbed in, and Mindy came face to face with a raunchy picture dangling from the mirror. Vicky Thompson, in a tiny blue bikini, splayed out on the hood of the car in which she was now seated. She took a moment to familiarize herself with the instrument console and shift lever. She was happy to see it was an automatic. With a turn of the key she started up the engine, and it began to growl. "I had the picture taken for David when I bought the car. I liked it so much, I couldn't part with it. Plus, that was just before Brian was about to turn sixteen." Mindy didn't seem to understand. "The chain holding it in place has its clasp sealed with liquid cement. He'd have to break it, or tear the photo to take it off." Mindy grinned, getting the idea now. "For some reason, he doesn't like driving my car." -- The Mustang slowed to a stop at the curb across from the house Mindy had indicated. She noted that her fathers black BMW was absent, and breathed a sigh of relief. Her mother might still be inside, but the firing squad wouldn't be nearly as effective right off the bat. Vicky noticed the girl's agitation. "You okay?" "Yeah. I should have called, or something." Mindy said, miserably. Vicky shrugged. "Want me to come in, help explain?" Mindy shook her head immediately. "No no, I mean, you know." Vicky blinked, blankly. She knew, but pretended she didn't understand. "My mom, doesn't really, ah, hmm." Vicky let her off the hook. "Yeah, I'm not real popular with the other moms." "Look, thanks a lot for the ride, and the dress, and, well, everything. I'm really glad this morning happened, know what I mean?" Vicky beamed. She hadn't ever had many girlfriend's, and was glad to have Mindy as one now. "Any time. Look, if you ever want to go shopping, or hang out, or just talk, I'm around." Vicky tried to sound casual, but she couldn't help but to feel a twinge of worry that maybe the girl didn't feel the same way. After all, she was in high school, and by the sound of what she had heard of the girl, had plenty of friends. Mindy lit up, "Definitely. You have to show me those internet sites, and let me in on your favourite shops." Vicky felt a wave of relief. "Absolutely. I don't know what your going to wear once cheerleading season finishes." Mindy bounced out of the car, and Vicky climbed out too. They shared another brief, friendly, hug before the girl crossed the street and disappeared into the house. Vicky loosened the straps of her shoes and kicked them off before settling behind the wheel. With nothing else to do today, she remembered the nagging concern that had been on her mind earlier in the morning. No time like the present. Vicky pulled out her cell, cycled through her contacts, until she found the one she wanted. She hit the button to dial. It was answered on the second ring. "Is Dr. Henderson in today?" Vicky asked, after listening to the standard greeting. "The Doctor is in, though he is busy at the moment. Did you want to set up an appointment?" "Yes, for today if possible." "I don't know if that will be possible. Are you a regular patient?" "Yes. Vicky Thompson." There was a pause, the voice a little cooler. "Of course Mrs. Thompson. Let me check." Vicky was put on hold. A minute later, the voice came back, even cooler. "The Doctor will see you today, Mrs. Thompson. What time is best for you?" It usually worked that way with Dr. Henderson. "I can be there around one o'clock." "I'll pass it on. Good bye Mrs. Thompson." The phone clicked off without waiting for her response. -- Brian had moved to his room, but was still sleeping when Vicky returned. She stepped in, opening the blinds to let light in. She also cracked a window. "Time to get up. I need you to give me a ride." Brian winced, and pulled a pillow over his head, protectively. She knew he hadn't thrown up yet, so it couldn't be that bad. "Come on, up. I had to clean up your little party mess, so you have to give me a ride." "Mom, I'm tired." He was drifting off again, when another thought came to him, "and I have a broken leg. I can't drive." "You don't have to drive. You just need to go with me." Vicky had decided, in the shower that morning, that she should get checked out. It had been a while since her last appointment, and the concerns that had bubbled up when she considered the possible consequences for Brian and Mindy had seemed to go double for her. Yet, she didn't want to go alone. She had a history with Dr. Henderson. Brian was the obvious choice, as a sort of chaperone. He was much too uncomfortable with the idea of her gynaecologist to be bothered by the need to ask questions. She wasn't really afraid of Dr. Henderson, nor was it that she found him unattractive. She had a long history with the man, had been quite attracted to him when they were both much younger, and their encounters had been familiar, and safe, but bizarre enough to be exciting. It's just that right now, she wasn't sure whether or not she wanted something to happen. Everything was getting a little muddled for her. Better safe than sorry. Maybe Brian's presence would prevent something from happening that she might regret. Vicky's Story Ch. 03 "You need to get checked out too." She insisted, searching for a way to justify the sudden insistence. She remembered something she'd seen earlier. "There was blood in your, you know." Brian's eyes opened, and he looked confused. "Huh?" "Spunk. Sperm. Semen. Blood." Brian was confused again. What was she talking about. A hazy memory of ejaculating on the lawn. Mindy teasing. Shit. She'd found that?!? She'd examined it? "On the kitchen floor. It was bloody. You need to get checked out." Kitchen floor? He shook his head, "Wasn't me." "I talked to Mindy before I took her home. It was you." Mindy? Had he? He couldn't remember. He remembered the strip, the tease, then that's where his memory ended. Had there been more? He'd been a little drunk. Maybe drunk enough to forget something like that? Mindy had said it was him. He sat up, despite the throbbing pain in his head, and smiled. He'd had sex with Mindy. He couldn't remember it, but she could, and she was already telling the tale. "Fuck yes!" He boomed. Vicky couldn't help but to smile. She tossed a shirt at him, "Your going with me. Get dressed." There was no more argument. -- Vicky was driving, but her mind was far away. She'd started to change into something more conservative again, but something had stopped her. Maybe she was overreacting to something that didn't exist. Dr. Henderson knew her quite well, he'd notice a change in behaviour. What if that caused the problem she was afraid of, between them. He was an old, dear friend. She had been seven months pregnant with Brian, still a newly wed in her own mind. Dr. Henderson had been a handsome man, she'd been coming to see him regularly, and found herself dressing up for the occasions. She knew he had noticed her, and she was pleased by that. Her pregnancy hadn't left her feeling attractive very often, back then. The memory came flooding back now. It had been eighteen years. When she thought about it like that, it didn't seem possible. The first time. She'd been in the stirrups. She remembered the feeling of the cold steel of the tools entering her. Spreading her. She remembered the shame. He was in Doctor mode, dispassionate questions, she in patient mode, answering mechanically. Neither of them could have missed the tension in the room. They usually got on so naturally. His touches, one of the things she had liked about him, had been so clinical that day. She'd understood that he was trying to reassert a professional relationship, trying to prevent things between them from going somewhere they both knew they shouldn't. It hadn't worked. She couldn't recall the details of their conversation, but there had been some minor misunderstanding between them, and the humour in it had broken the thin ice. As quickly as that, they fell back into old patterns. The gloves had come off, and she'd felt his hand on her navel, a gesture of comfort. She'd appreciated it, and had remarked on it. Something silly, something mindless, and then there had been a moment. She hadn't been looking at him. During examinations back then, she couldn't. She'd been watching the wall or the ceiling, but she'd noticed that it had seemed the world had stopped for the span of several heartbeats. She felt his eyes on her, and had squirmed a little. Some measure of discomfort, some measure of performance. That little gesture had been enough. She felt the steel tool slide out of her, almost, as it had seemed, as it had finally warmed from contact with her. She heard a zip. She had felt a more familiar, larger, warmer, rounder, pressure at the entrance to her vagina. She remembered staring at the ceiling, trying to pretend it wasn't happening. The dispassionate Doctor's voice was gone, and in it's place, the timid enquiring voice of a man. Did she feel any pain there? No. Further in. The warm hand on her hip. Any tenderness? Yes, not the kind he meant, but her answer had been no. Further in. The hand moving to her belly. Feeling her breathing. Could he feel the tension in her body? The movement of her baby? The hand moved around, not the sure, measured touch of a medical professional, but the groping, needy hand of a lover. Further in, then out. Then in again. She was responding to him. She realized she was gently rocking her own hips back against him. Her baby moved, and suddenly she'd wanted to cry then. She'd felt the self-loathing. Yet, knowing it would be taken as blame, an accusation of a rape that hadn't been a rape, she'd pushed it down. Banished it. She'd looked then. His eyes closed, head turned aside, like he couldn't bear to witness what he was doing. She shut her own eyes then, feeling alone, abandoned in what should have been a moment of intimacy. She'd felt like she was falling. She'd pressed a hand against the wall above her head, to steady herself. The force of the thrusting was pushing the bed up against the wall, loudly. She had grown accustomed to the rough rhythm when it stopped, and she felt a moment of regret. For a moment, he lingered inside her, still. She could feel the twitch of the cock, but it was subtle. Pre-orgasmic. He'd pulled out, but didn't move away. She was still, trembling slightly. Not cold. Not frightened. Excited. She slid the hand she had used to steady her swollen belly down to shield her gaping pussy from his sight. He'd paused for a moment, then wordlessly he helped her swivel to a sitting position, then standing. He'd turned her to the wall, and she put a hand up against it to brace herself. He'd wrapped an arm around and held her belly, fingers spread wide. The other hand supported her swollen breasts, and she entered her from behind. With no contact coming from him on her clit, she was forced to work it herself, with her free hand. It was an uncomfortable position, but she understood what he was after. He wanted emphasize the feeling of her pregnancy. He felt her belly and breasts swinging with the rhythm of their intercourse, and it wasn't long before he was thrusting deep into her. Pinning her against the wall. She could hear his sharp intakes of breath next to her ear, as he gasped in the throes of his ejaculation. There was a warm sticky feeling flowing between her legs, and over her upper inner thighs. He'd left her like that. Without another word. Like a criminal fleeing the scene of a crime. She was left to clean herself as best she could, and get dressed. She remembered the grin on the face of an orderly as she'd left the clinic. She had never told anyone. She'd been young. He was a doctor. She thought if anyone found out, her marriage would be over. Her family torn apart, just as it was coming into being. At the same time, she realized she had a certain amount of safety with the Doctor. In his specialization, all it would take would be an allegation of rape, and he would be ruined. They each held a secret that could destroy the other, but neither had any desire to use it. She'd increased the frequency of her check-ups after that. Their relationship had normalized somewhat in the years to come. Both were comfortable with the way things went, neither seemed inclined to seek anything more from the other. She'd asked why in later years. Why then, why during her pregnancy? He'd explained it was because of the pregnancy. He tried to express what a turn on it was for him. How it seemed like the perfect organic extension of the sex act, which was itself a messy affair. To him, pregnancy conjured images of amneotic fluid, sperm being injected into the woman, the organic tether of the umbilical cord, crying, joy, tears, screams. All the worst, most beautiful parts of what it took to bring a baby into the world. Pregnancy screamed sex, that part of life that most people took such pains to avoid calling attention to. All of it was why he'd chosen the specialization he had. -- Doctor Henderson came out to the waiting room to greet his patients personally. "Vicky, you look lovely, as usual." He offered. Vicky stood, automatically, and allowed the Doctor to embrace her and plant a kiss on her cheek. "Thanks Jim," she turned, to introduce Brian, and the Doctor took a mere half step back. His hands rested naturally on her hips. "You remember my Brian?" "Of course, it's a been a while, but how could I ever forget the son of my favourite patient?" He held out a hand, and he saw his mother reach her own arm across, to make way, and rest it on the hand over her hip. Brian took the hand and shook it, struck by the notion that they seemed a perfectly natural couple. "If your here for the leg, your out of luck, son. Not my department." "Oh, no sir. I'm just, ah, I'll just wait out here." Brian offered. "Brian needs a check up too. He's got himself a girlfriend now, and I just want him to make sure he's healthy." Vicky explained. "Got yourself some tail, huh? Good on you, son." Vicky rolled her eyes, exasperatedly. Brian wasn't sure how to react to that. He forced a grin, "I guess so. Thanks." Dr. Henderson addressed Vicky now, "Why don't you go ahead and go wait in exam room three, I want to have a bit of a chat with our boy here. Might be easier without his mom around." Vicky nodded, and turned to go. Brian noticed the light pat on her bottom which seemed to go unnoticed by the both of them. When she was gone, the Doctor settled into a seat, and Brian sat too. "So, any concerns, or questions for me off the bat?" The Doctor asked. "Any pains or problems you might have noticed lately." "No, no. I feel great." "Any unusual amount of sexual excitement?" "Um, what would be unusual? Like, bestiality?" The doctor laughed. "No no, like, do you find yourself getting aroused often?" Brian shrugged, and looked guilty. "Well, a little bit. I guess that's normal right?" "Well, some is normal, a lot could indicate a major problem. If you say, feel the need to masturbate fairly often, like say, every other day, that's about normal for a boy your age. Too much more than that and it can be a major red flag." Brian looked worried. "How often do you masturbate?" The Doctor asked. The young man ran a hand through his hair, a sure sign of stress. "I don't know, about normal I guess. What kind of red flags are we talking about here?" "Well, I had a patient once who was actually masturbating every single day. Major hormone imbalance, serious risk of a stroke or heart attack. That kind of activity can be hell on your system. We had to amputate his testicles to get the hormones back into balance." Brian was looking really alarmed. "A-amputate?" The Doctor nodded solemnly. "Yup. Poor guy. At least he had already had a kid, so it wasn't the end of the world for him. Of course, his wife left him. Can't really blame her, right?" Brian was swallowing hard. "He could have died? Once a day?" The Doctor cracked a grin then. "I'm just fucking with you." Brian wanted to hit the man, and hide from him at the same time. "A case that serious, he would have had to be pulling the pud more like twice a day." Brian searched the Doctor's face, but couldn't read the man. "Really?" The Doctor laughed then. "Twice. Twice I got you. Come on, we can get you two in and out of here in no time." Brian allowed himself to be led away, feeling deeply embarrassed at his own gullibility. "So you like to jerk off, huh?" Brian didn't answer, and was surprised by the hearty back slap he received from the Doctor. "Mom like yours, can't say I blame you." Brian didn't know what to make of that. Another joke? "Here we are, in with you." Brian twisted the knob, noticing the number at the last second. Three. Certain there had been a mistake, he turned back, "This ones taken, should I go down to four?" "No no, relax, it's faster this way. Nothing to be embarrassed about," he explained, opening the door and holding it for Brian. Vicky sat in a chair in the room. The walls were a stark white, as were the shining tiles of the floor. Cold, florescent, white lights banished any trace of shadow.. Posters depicting the human reproductive system, and other medically informative diagrams, were tacked to a corkboard hanging to the right of the door. A lavender examination table with gleaming steel stirrups stood against the far wall. "She's seen it a hundred times, I'm sure." The doctor said, reassuringly. The doctor almost pushed him into the room, then stepped in behind. "Alright. Brian, if you need one, there's a gown on the counter over there. Some people feel the need, but it won't protect you." Another hearty slap, " Let's get undressed, shall we?" With that, the Doctor shrugged off his white coat, and began to loosen his tie. Brian didn't move, a feeling of dread coming over him. The Doctor grinned again, "Oh right, I'm not a patient. I get to keep my clothes on." Brian really didn't think any of this was funny. Vicky sounded amused, but admonished the Doctor. "Jim, stop it. He's not in the mood for jokes." She was tugging at the knot in her top. Dr. Henderson winked at Brian, "Sorry son, just find a little levity puts the patients at ease." Brian noted that he wasn't in the least bit "eased." "But seriously. Get naked." "Vicky, any problems or concerns? Notice any new tenderness, anything unusual?" "No, nothing like that." She had her top loosened now. It went sailing past Brian, tossed onto the counter. A skirt quickly followed. Then a pair of frilly panties. He suddenly thought he was breathing too loudly, but slowly peeled off his shirt. The Doctor moved out of his line of sight, and he heard a feminine gasp, followed by "Eww, cold." "You think that's bad, just you wait." "Jim!" Vicky scolded. Brian was trying to make himself as small as possible, facing a counter in one corner of the room, wishing he could block out the sounds. "So, Brian." The Doctor said. Hearing his name, Brian automatically turned his head for a moment, and caught sight of the Doctor, on the far side of his naked mother, who was faced away from Brian, clearly palpating her breasts. He jerked his head back forward. "Have you been doing regular checks on yourself?" The Doctor asked. "Um, checks?" "Testicular cancer." "Oh right. Well, kinda." The tone meant no, never. "Strikes at any age. Okay, young lady, into the stirrups with you." Brian heard a sharp slap of flesh, and winced at the sound. He struggled out of his sweat pants, having some difficulty getting it over the cast without seeming to move, breathe, or in any other way emit sound. There was a light clattering of metal from behind him, followed by the familiar ripping sound of Velcro straps. Atop the lavender coloured examination table, Vicky was trying to silently convey her fury at the Doctor's unusually playful attitude. The straps had caught her completely off-guard. There had never been a need to secure her to the table before. She resisted, but the laughter in the Doctor's eyes made it clear he was enjoying the struggle to get her last free arm into the Velcro restraints. "Pull the curtain," she mouthed silently. Currently the curtain was wide open, and Vicky lay totally exposed on the bed. Brian was down to his tight-whities, huddled in a chair facing the corner, visible to her from between her legs. He moved his mouth close to her ear, and whispered. "Play nice, and I'll consider it." The angry look she gave him only seemed to increase the pleasure he was taking in the moment. He waited a moment for a response, and then shook his head, as if asking, "No?" She glared. "Brian, could you hand me the Speculum?" He asked. Brian reached out, doubtfully running his hands over the series of gleaming metal implements laying on the counter. "Steel pistol with a duck bill." The Doctor explained. Brian recognized that immediately and lifted the device. It suddenly occurred to him what it was, and how it was used. He flinched, but held it out behind him, without turning around. The Doctor took it from the boy. Brandishing it for Vicky's benefit, he stood between her spread legs, and ran the cold steel up the inside of her thighs. She responded as he knew she would. She shivered, chilled by the air conditioning, and from the excitement brought on by the humiliation of the moment. Here she was, nude, held down by straps, in the most exposed position possible, completely under this man's control, with her son, who was also almost naked, sitting a scant six feet away. She almost laughed at herself. She had brought him along to prevent something from happening, and now here he was, another tool for Dr. Henderson to use against her. She grunted involuntarily as the Speculum entered her. Brian flinched, again, at the sound. "You've been married for what, twenty years now?" The Doctor asked. Vicky struggled to keep her voice normal. "Just over nineteen years." "How often do you have sex?" Pig, she thought. Asking her that with Brian in the room. "An average amount." "So, several times a day, then." He was laughing silently at her. She refused to respond. She struggled to think clean thoughts. Not to let this man drag her down to his level. A level, admittedly, she visited frequently on her own. The Doctor shrugged, and mouthed, "You leave me no choice." Aloud, "Brian, I'm going to need you to give me a hand, buddy." Vicky's shivering increased when she heard those words. Brian shrugged a little, but didn't move or speak. The Doctor went to his chair, and said, "Let's get you moved back a bit." Brian half stood, but was unwilling to completely leave the dubious security of the seat. The Doctor helped him slide the chair back, until he was next to his mother's spread knees. Vicky's eyes were imploring, she was shaking her head. Silently, Dr. Henderson shrugged and held up his open, empty hands, a gesture which conveyed that she wasn't leaving him any choice. Brian was filled with horror as he heard the next words. "I need you to reach under here." The Doctor took him by the wrist and guided his hand under his mother's knee. His hand came in contact with the metal handle. "I need you to grip that, and squeeze it, kind of like a trigger." There was a mechanism on the device which allowed it to be secured in the open position, but that wasn't really the purpose of the request. Brian did as he was asked, but felt his abdominal muscles tighten to a painful degree. He felt light headed. He'd already realized the device he was holding was lodged inside his mother. Vicky gasped, audibly, as the speculum spread her open. Her nipples were like fleshy bullets, poking toward the ceiling. Dr. Henderson was clearly enjoying himself, standing next to Brian, between her legs. Brian was looking away, concentrating on the floor tiles. "Where were we again? Oh yes, several times a day. Any anal sex?" She felt a latex gloved finger pressing into her ass. Vicky was broken now. What did he want to hear? The worst of course. "Yes, regularly." Dr. Henderson nodded his approval of the answer. Brian hunched over further. "Remind me again, how large would you say your husband is?" "Average." She felt another finger press into her anus, beside the first. "Below average." Another nod of approval. The fingers were withdrawn. Brian was trying to will himself to shrink into invisibility. There was the snap of rubber gloves being pulled off. A new pair being pulled on. "Well, I think the questions might get a little personal from here. Brian, please keep a grip on that speculum for me, while I get this over with for you." There was a moment of panic, and Brian felt hands invading his underwear. A firm grip seized his testicles and rolled each one in turn between the fingers. Brian briefly wondered if it would be out of the question to cry now. Vicky's Story Ch. 03 "Seems normal. You can get dressed, and the nurse outside will take some blood. Make sure you haven't picked up a case of herpes anywhere." Brian wasn't listening. He'd received permission to leave, and that was good enough for him. He quickly dressed, and was out the door. The doctor leaned over his female patient, and looked into her eyes. "You've been a bad girl." He grabbed one of her large breasts, and gave it an appraising shake. "Next time, leave the kids at home." Vicky nodded, but said, "You sick bastard." He grinned at her. "And you loved every minute of it." He tore the restraints free. Vicky sat up. The doctor was undressing. It was her turn to be on top. Minutes later, Brian sat trying not to think about the needle that was about to be injected into his arm, when he heard a regular, dull thudding sound. He wondered what it was briefly, before unwelcome ideas began to flash through his mind. Brian was more comfortable focusing on the sensation of the needle pricking his skin.