RWS-164 The Boyfriend's Dad by Peter Jensen


Chapter 1


Tamera West slouched in an easy chair, watching an old Tarzan repeat on 
the television and eating an apple. Her thoughts weren't on the screen, 
but on her date for that night, Eddie McDonald, a big, handsome boy, 
with craggy features like James Colburn--only younger, of course, Eddie 
was going to be a senior when school started again, (but sadly, he was 
going to be bussed to another district. Still, there was the rest of 
the summer to see him, and who could tell what would happen by 
September?) She'd only been out with him once, last Saturday night, on 
a blind date arranged by her best friend, Nancy Cannon, whose steady 
boyfriend Jason, had brought Eddie along. And wow!

Tamera stretched out and yawned, running her fingers feline-like 
through her long silken blonde hair, blissfully thinking of his strong, 
muscular arms and how they'd held her in the backseat of Jason's old 
car, of how he'd kissed her so hard her toes had curled, of how he'd 
tried to put his hand on her breasts, under her sweater, and of how, 
when she hadn't allowed him to, he'd attempted to slide his hand up her 
naked thigh and under her skirt.

It made her quiver all over again with excitement, strange awakening 
tinglings of budding womanhood pervading her belly, breasts, and 
vagina. Eddie made her feel so alive, so much like a woman, even though 
she was only fifteen. Or--was it him, her mind cautioned, or just her 
own chemistry changing as she matured. Was it time, she asked herself, 
like her girlfriend Nancy had told her once? One day you're a child, 
and the next you're ready for sex and everything. She didn't know, but 
she figured that the important thing was having the feeling of being 
alive and generating a tingling heat every time she thought about it 
and Eddie.

She moved her legs so that they were straight out in front of her, 
arching slightly, and then she stiffened her back and yawned. In only 
one more hour ...

She was a beautiful young girl, much like her mother, with an upturned, 
freckle-splattered nose and cheeks like spots from a paint brush, and 
her ice-blue eyes were more cat-like and devilish than distant, as many 
blue eyes can be. Her ripely budding young breasts were two small firm 
cylinders, tapering from their swollen moorings to cherry-nippled 
crests, and they bobbed invitingly as she moved in the chair, for she 
wore nothing more than a thin bra and sheer, almost see-through 
panties. The day had been so hot, and she had been too comfortable to 
worry about dressing for her date until the cool of the evening. The 
way she sat now, her eyes were drawn to the thin white nylon of her 
panties, and the way they creased in the thin visibly dividing slit of 
her vaginal lips. She liked looking at it, studying the soft, pink 
curves and silky blonde strands of pubic hair that curled out from 
around the elastic legbands; she liked looking at it through her 
panties almost as much as she liked seeing it naked. For the last few 
months she had liked looking at her sensually awakening young cunt, 
almost as much as she had enjoyed touching it.


End of Page 1. See rws-164.txt for full story.