Beth - Book One

by Bronte Follower

©Copyright 2019 Bronte Follower

NOTE: This is Book 1 in what will be a long series of books about a late teen, Beth, and her family and friends. You will first run across a cast of characters which will be updated periodically as the books progress, and, a set of floor plans for the various houses involved, which will also be updated in future books as needed. The actual story begins in the Prologue.

Cast of Characters

Girls, The Gang of Four (soccer position-if applicable, height, hair, ethnicity/nationality)

Beth Williams - The story’s protagonist plays critical roles in the story: leader of a small set of close friends; captain and starting offensive sweeper of the Elkton premier soccer team, 5’6”, blonde, white

Gracey (Graciela) García - Electronic hardware afficionado; member of the Elkton premier soccer team; 5’6”, black, Hispanic

Liya (Aliyah) Nadhi - Electronic software afficionado, hanger-on of the Elkton premier soccer team; 5’4”, black, India

Rhee (Rhiannon) Devlin - Beth’s best friend, member of the Elkton premier soccer team; starting center forward (striker); 5’6”, black, white

Girls, Elkton Premier Team members mentioned (position, height, hair, ethnicity/nationality)

Ann DeJong - Starting center fullback and (eventually) co-captain; 5’10”, dark brown, white

Brianna Maguire - Starting goalie; 5’8”, black, black

Heather Wilkerson -- Backup member of the offense; 5’2”, white blonde, white

Lana (Svetlana) Porchenko - Backup fullback; 5’7”, brown, white

Lissa Schmitt - Starting right wing/offense backup; 5’4”, dark brown, white

Mia Abernathy - Starting left wing; 5’5”, black, white

Padme Fahrad - Backup member of the offense; 5’3”, black, India

Rathi Dewan - Starting center midfielder (halfback); 5’5”, black, India

Tonda Byers -- Backup center forward (striker); 5’7”, black, black

Zala Tadesse -- Starting right midfielder; 5’6”, black, Ethiopia

Soccer-team members (others)

Charlize Sanderson - Starting center forward (striker) of the Grass Valley premier soccer team; former teammate of Beth and Rhee when her family lived in Elkton; 5’5”, blonde, white

Richard -- Coach of the Watermelon Mountain premier soccer team

Boys

Brett Jacobs - A very girl-shy heartthrob in Beth’s grade; 5’5”, brown, white

Bradley Whitford - A rich, bigoted boy in Beth’s grade; 5’6”; black, white

Adults

Charlie (Charles) Williams - Beth’s father is handsome and well built; 5’11”, blond, white

Sandy (Sandra) Williams - Beth is nearly a copy of her mother; 5’5”, blonde, white

Carol Devlin - Rhee’s divorced mother and friend of the Williams family; 5’6”, black, white

Coach Pam Virtanen - Coach of Elkton premier soccer team; 5’8”, brown, white

Horace and Harriet (Harry) Jacobsen - Retired university professor and wife, next-door neighbors of the Williams family

Inez García - Gracey’s mother; 5’7”, black, Hispanic

Floor Plan

Original Floor Plan Of Williams House

PROLOGUE

April 24, 2017 (Monday)

Dear Ms. Diary,

My name is Beth and I am starting this diary because I’ve got to tell somebody about the current interesting time in my life. I can’t tell these things to my friends, not even Rhee, and I won’t tell my dad. Unless.

My parents tell me that I am pretty, but you can’t really believe parents all that much. At least not about those sorts of things. I would give myself “cute.” When I look in the mirror, I see a 5’6” strawberry blonde. My boringly straight hair is down to the middle of my back (usually in a ponytail). I see an angular face, blue eyes, and what I think are annoying freckles, though many tell me that they are cute. I am small-breasted (30A), but I still catch men and boys looking, so, perhaps, at least some of those Y-chromosome humans think small boobs are nice. That, or they are desperate. I do not hold much hope for larger, as my mother and both grandmothers (neither alive) were small-breasted.

I am in good shape, as I am dedicated to playing soccer (I am the captain of my league team), and that sport requires fitness. I have recently started dabbling in lacrosse. It is a lot like soccer - in some regards, at least, but you can whack opponents with your stick! Sort of.

I do well in school. I particularly like English/writing and mathematics. I am ahead of my class in both subjects, taking advanced math this year.

I love both of my parents; heck, I even like them much of the time, particularly my dad. The current situation with my mom is, um, unsettled, and is the impetus for making you, Electronic Diary, and writing all of this. The back story is necessary to explain a few parts of my history for subsequent entries to make sense.

My mom, Sandra (40 y.o. last month) is just about my height and has honey-blonde hair she keeps about shoulder length. As I noted before, she is small-breasted; she is also slender and very pretty (I am occasionally jealous). She just got a promotion and will shortly be managing a bank branch office. She occasionally works long hours at the job she’s in now (at a different branch). I wonder how long her weeks will be now.

My dad, Charlie (40 y.o. come Dec) is 5’ 11” and is also blond, but his hair is paler than my mother’s. He is very well built, in great shape, and is the most attractive male that I know, boy or man. Dad is a maths (I like the Brit term; I mean it’s “mathematics,” so...) professor at the local university, and he’s certainly the source of my interest and skill in the subject.

To me, my parents’ relationship has always seemed close, and they are not afraid to show that closeness around me, with touches, smooches, and the like. While I don’t see lots of parents that seem as close, my assessment is hampered by the fact that the three friends with whom I spent most of my time are all in single-mother households.

I do not wonder why I am an only child, as I’ve overheard various bits and pieces of my parents’ back story to suggest that my mom had complications with me and that Dad got “fixed” because of it. Both of them have discussed various aspects of “the birds and the bees” with me on a few occasions, but they’ve never explained what happened with me. To be honest, I have not asked. I probably need to do that someday.

My best friend is Rhiannon, though she goes by “Rhee.” I have been jealous of her name since I have known her; it is so much more exotic than “Beth.” She is just about my height, perhaps half-an-inch taller, and has long, straight, shiny black hair that falls to her butt. No, to her incredible ass. We met the first year we played organized soccer, and we’ve been nearly twin close ever since.

Rhee is a dangerous striker, one of the leading goal scorers in the league, and I am her playmaker - an offensive sweeper. Rhee will probably play at a top-flight college (she’s so brill!); I could probably play for the local college if I continue to improve. Rhee’s father is from England, but he left years ago, and Rhee’s mom, Carol, who turns 36 this year, looks much like Rhee… or vice-versa, though with much shorter hair. They are both cute and have much more up top than do my mom and I (I am occasionally jealous). My parents and Rhee’s mom are good friends, too, and the two families often socialize. Carol is a travel planner, and the two families have gone on trips together on two occasions. Rhee and her mom live only two blocks away, so Rhee and I have, essentially, two houses, with each of us having a key to the other’s back door and with Mom and Dad often feeding Rhee and Rhee’s mom often feeding me. Rhee and I often sleep at the other’s house; since we both have queen beds, when we’re at the same house, we sleep together.

A couple months ago when I came home, I heard interesting sounds coming from my parents’ room. I snuck to a point in the hall outside their bedroom from which I could see a reflection of their door in the hall mirror, found their door open, and my parents having sex. I immediately averted my eyes and crept back down the hall. NOT! Since then, I’ve caught them at it twice more.

While all that back story is important, the event precipitating this writing effort happened when I came home unexpectedly two days ago. Soccer practice had been canceled due to circumstances that I don’t fully understand. So, when I heard those familiar bedroom sounds, I slipped like a mouse to my observation point and got a shock. The man in there had dark hair!

CHAPTER ONE

May 4, 2017 (Thursday)

Dear Ms. Diary,

Rhee and her mother came over for dinner and cake, and I got a few presents. However, the best present was one my mom gave me before dinner, before Dad got home; Mom had taken the afternoon off so that she could prepare dinner and make my birthday cake. After she got the cake into the oven, I cornered her, intending to take advantage of what I hoped would be her guilt and her apparent submissive streak, a reasonable assumption from the sexual role-playing I had observed on two of the three occasions that I had watched my parents having sex. (Yes, despite my tender years, I am aware of such things. There is this thing called the Internet, and I am pretty bright.)

“Mom, we need to talk.”

“Okay,” she said a bit tremulously, “about what?”

“I have this photo I took on the 22nd that you need to see.”

I then showed her the photo on my phone I took through the hall mirror of her and whomever back on 22 April. She glanced at the picture and immediately broke down, sobbing.

“I was afraid of that,” she blubbered. “I thought I heard something in the house that sounded like you.” (After taking the incriminating photo, I had tiptoed down the hall and out of the house.)

“Why,” I asked.

“It sealed my promotion, but I've been ill about it ever since. I've been dreading that if I had heard you, you’d tell your dad. I know he loves me very much, and I'm very afraid of the consequences of him finding out.”

She then proceeded to completely lose it, lying on the kitchen floor, crying.

I let her cry for a minute and then asked, “So, was the promotion worth it?”

She wailed louder and got out a stuttering, “N… n… no.”

I sat on the floor next to her, put her head in my lap, and smoothed her hair. After a while, her crying came to a shuddering end, at which point I started down the road I had carefully planned in the past 12 days.

“I love you, Mom, but you’ve screwed up, and I don’t want your screw-up to change what has been a happy life for me and Dad. There must be some changes, or else I’ll tell Dad and take my chances. I think he’d be devastated.”

At that point, Mom started blubbering again, “O… okay. I’ll do whatever you want for you not to tell him.”

“At some point, Mom, you’ll have to tell him, but in exchange for a few particular demands, I’ll let you tell him sometime in the future when you think your marriage might survive the telling.”

Her crying again ceased, and she responded, “I’ll do whatever. Let you stay up late… whatever.”

“No, Mom, I don't want you to give up your parenting responsibilities; I think that would be bad for me, and Dad would get suspicious. No, I have very different thoughts on the subject.”

The quaver in Mom’s voice was obvious, “Wh-what?”

“Since it seems you cannot be trusted with it, I'm taking control of your sexual life. You'll do what I say in that vein, but I demand control of no other aspects of your life. I want you to be an effective parent to me and a good wife to Dad.”

Her face, on which I was looking straight down, went through several expressions, some of which I could not interpret. One looked promising for my endeavor, but the expression series ended with fear.

I interrupted her before she could get her objection across her lips, “No, I won’t demand that you fuck all of my male school friends. I don’t want that at all.”

Her face relaxed a bit, but still showed tension.

“Mom, why don’t we get up off the floor and sit at the table and I’ll explain.” She nodded her head, and we got up and sat in chairs on opposite sides of the kitchen table. I again pulled out my phone, set it on the table, and opened and started the voice-memo app. I also extracted a piece of paper from my pocket, spread it out, and then began reading.

“This is an agreement between Sandra Williams, wife of Charlie Williams, and me, Beth Williams, Charlie and Sandra’s daughter. In exchange for my silence on Sandra’s infidelity in her marriage bed with someone from the bank for which she works, I claim control of Sandra’s sexual life, only her sexual life; no other aspect of her life that, in my opinion, does not intersect with her sexual life, though I will endeavor not to impact negatively upon her professional work.

“As the mistress of her sexual life….”

Mom reacted to that phrase, which caused me to smirk mentally. It seems I was right in assessing her submissiveness. I repeated and continued.

“As the mistress of Sandra’s sexual life, she must be obedient to the following rules of which I am the sole arbiter:

Item 1 Sandra will endeavor to keep this agreement from coming to the attention or knowledge of anyone, but particularly her husband, Charlie Williams.

Item 2 Sandra will convince her husband, Charlie Williams, to make the inside of their house a ‘clothing optional’ area. She is allowed wide latitude in how to effect that change, but it must be made by August 1, 2017.

Item 3 From this point on or until this agreement is changed or abolished by me, any discussion or conversation between Sandra and me of anything touching on Sandra’s sex life, that is, her preferences, fantasies, plans, or anything else of a sexual nature, Sandra will address me as “Mistress;” I will address her as “Supplicant.”

Item 4 Once the house has been declared a “clothing optional” area by Charlie Williams (Sandra’s husband), Sandra must always be nude in the house, with only four exceptions:

Exception A When she will shortly (defined as less than 30 minutes) be leaving the house or shortly (same definition) after returning to the house from outside;

Exception B When she has my express permission, either at her behest or mine, to wear clothing items of any sort;

Exception C At the behest of her husband (Charlie Williams); and

Exception D When there is company present that is not privy to the clothing-optional policy.

Item 5 Until a clothing-optional policy is in effect in the Williams house, on a minimum of 50% (averaged over the calendar month) of the days on which Supplicant engages in any sexual behavior in Charlie and Sandra’s bedroom, she must ensure the following conditions are met:

Condition A The bedroom will be lit well enough for any potential observer(s) to watch with ease and

Condition B The bedroom’s door will be open at least halfway.

Item 6 On any day that Supplicant engages in any sexual activity in Charlie and Sandra’s bedroom (with or without a partner), Supplicant must inform me that it has taken place and whether the two conditions noted in Rule 6 were met. She must report such activity in a timely fashion, preferably by 6 pm local time. She may report by texting simply the date of the activity (e.g., 16th) and either “Y” or “N” to note whether those stipulations from rule 6 were met (“Y”) or not (“N”). I will respond with “OK” or some such equivalent response, at which point she will delete the text that she sent me. She may also report that information verbally, rather than texting, but only after assuring that such cannot be overheard. This requirement is null and void upon the establishment of a clothing-optional policy for the house, though she may continue to report such at her discretion.

Item 7 When Supplicant is engaging in any sexual activity in the bedroom, she will not make the presence of any watchers known to Charlie. I make no constraints on the sexual relations between Charlie and Sandra outside of their bedroom, but I encourage there to be a lot of such.

Item 8 Short of confirmed illness or infirmity or with my express consent, Supplicant will not refuse sexual relations to Charlie Williams (her husband) in the confines of their house, no matter the time, no matter the location, no matter the aspect of sexual relations that Charlie wants, excepting physical injury and/or extreme pain and/or extreme degradation.

Item 9 Supplicant controls the sexual life of no one. In Charlie and Sandra’s house, she may endeavor to convince others in the house or outside the house of what she considers to be the inadvisability of particular sexual actions or intentions.

Item 10 Supplicant will obey individual commands unstipulated here that I may give her, now and in the future, concerning sexual activities within the confines of Charlie and Sandra’s house.

Item 11 Supplicant will obey individual commands unstipulated here that I may give her, now and in the future, concerning her apparel outside of Charlie and Sandra’s house. I will endeavor not to impact her work negatively with any such commands.

Item 12 When I give Supplicant a command concerning sexual actions in Charlie and Sandra’s house or regarding her apparel outside of the house, I will endeavor to give those commands in such a way that no others are aware of said commands.

Item 13 Sandra will not enter my bedroom without my express consent.

Item 14 Should Sandra disobey any of the above rules or other commands that I give her regarding her sexual life, I may inform Charlie Williams of her infidelity in their marriage bed. Until and unless Sandra disobeys one or more of these rules, I will endeavor to keep that infidelity from Charlie.

“Sandra, do you agree to these rules?”

Mom swallowed a couple times, hung her head, and quietly responded.

“I’m sorry, Sandra. Please state your response more clearly and loudly.”

“Yes, Mistress.” (My mom, too, is quite bright.)

CHAPTER TWO

May 5, 2017 (Friday)

Dear Ms. Diary,

I had to have a little discussion with Mom about her over-reaction to her agreement to our “contract.” I explained to her that I was more than willing to be subject to her discipline about anything other than her control of anyone’s sexual life, but that she did not have to balance that lack of control by being more controlling of me than before our contract. When I mentioned that Dad would certainly notice any abrupt change in Mom’s behavior toward me, she closed her mouth, nodded, and walked off. Sometime later, when Dad ducked off to the bathroom, I went to Mom and hugged her.

“Mom, I still love you very much, though you hurt me pretty badly. I truly want no changes in our lives other than….”

At first, she was stiff when I hugged her, but she relented and put her arms around me and squeezed me tightly, whispering in my ear, “Mistress, I’m sorry for hurting you and your father. No, I haven’t told him. However, it’s going to take a little time for me to get back on balance with what are radical changes in my life. Please hang with me. I do love you so very much, though sometimes I forget how much you’ve grown. I guess you’re not just my little girl, anymore.”

I admit that my eyes filled with tears; I squeezed her back tightly.

“Supplicant, you will endeavor to record any conversations you have with Dad about the clothing-optional policy. At your earliest convenience, with consideration for the need to keep our secret, you will play such recordings for me.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

The rest of the evening was better, and, discretion being the better part of valor, I went and spent the night at Rhee’s. I did not tell Rhee about recent events in my house. I probably will at some point, but that point is almost certainly well down the road.

---

May 6, 2017 (Saturday)

Dear Ms. Diary,

Mom sent me a text this morning that read “5th, N.” I smiled because I think last night was the first time Dad got some loving since that fateful April 22nd. I wonder if Mom initiated it. If so, it might indicate that her mind is allowing her to be sexual, now that she’s paying for her mistake. Here’s to better days for him. I then recorded the data in a little notebook where I keep track of the percentage of “Y” days.

---

May 7, 2017 (Sunday)

Dear Ms. Diary,

Mom texted “6th, Y.” Damn. I missed out.

---

May 8, 2017 (Monday)

Dear Ms. Diary,

Before Dad got home from work, Mom came to my door, knocked, and asked to enter my bedroom. I was naked, as I often am behind my closed door. I considered various things quickly and then responded.

“Come on in.”

Once she opened the door and saw me lounging on my front on my bed reading, she did a minor double take, then caught her breath.

“Um, perhaps I can come back later,” then added a hasty, “Mistress.”

I noticed two interesting things. The first was that her phone was in her hand, the second was that her eyes seemed to be focused on my ass.

Figuring I knew what the first thing meant, I responded, “Now is good. I’m usually nekkid as a jaybird in my room. I guess I’ve been practicing for ‘clothing optional’ for years. I assume you have a conversation that I should hear.”

“Yes, Mistress. However, if you will allow this from me as your Supplicant, but mostly as your mother, you look exquisite.”

That was so unexpected that I blushed.

“Thanks, Mom, but I think you’re biased.”

“No, Dear… er, Mistress. Well, I am biased, but that bias has no part of my opinion.” Then she blushed, but continued, “You have lovely legs, which I knew long ago, but you also have a lovely behind. No, since this subject is at least partly sexual, I say to Mistress that her ass looks delectable.”

Her face was a bit red before she got those words out, but it turned positively crimson after.

“I guess I’ve been typically parental in blinding myself to how you’ve grown and changed. You’re a very attractive young woman, Mistress.”

I was nonplussed. Embarrassed. I hung my head to hide my blush, but Mom reached down, put her hand under my chin, and lifted my head.

“No, do not hide from it. I’ve told you many times that you’re pretty, and I think you’ve just passed that off as motherly bias. I am biased in your favor over others’ daughters, but I’ve given you my honest assessment. I think you consider Rhee to be much more attractive than you, what with her fuller figure. Well, she’s not. Yes, she has features that some men… and women… find more to their liking, than your slender, more-petite figure. However, remember that I won the “competition” [yes, she did the air quotes thing] for your father, who is the most attractive man I’ve ever known, and I’m sure I’ve known, in multiple ways, many more men than you have. So, as the winner, I know that there are men that truly appreciate your shape. Heck, because we’re built so similarly and have such similar looks, you could say that your father truly appreciates your shape. He certainly appreciates my shape and appreciated it quite vigorously last night. And the answer is ‘N.’”

I was again dumbfounded and embarrassed, but my stomach clenched, as did something else a bit lower. Does Mom know me that well? Mom turned back to my door and then, when she reached for the knob and found her phone in her hand, she turned back around.

“Oops. Mistress, you still need to hear this,” and she tapped the start button on the recording.

“Charlie, I’ve been thinking. Remember early in our marriage when we would go days without wearing clothes in our apartment and early on here in the house?”

“Uh, yes.”

“What would you say to instituting a clothing-optional policy for the house?”

“Umm. Well. If it weren’t for our daughter, we wouldn’t have altered what was then a de facto policy.”

“Yes, though I wonder if other factors might have contributed to changing that policy even without Beth. I recall getting pretty involved on the couch in the apartment when our daughter was in her crib in the same room.”

“Well, yes, but Beth was essentially unaware at the time, at least of the particulars of what we did. I think she’d be aware now, don’t you? I mean, what do you think her reaction would be if I were in my birthday suit sporting a woody in the kitchen?”

[Female laughter] “Yes, I understand your point, but I’ve thought for years we might have been better off doing things differently. I think Beth does not have a particularly bad body image, but I do think she does not see herself as all that attractive. At least, she seems to pooh-pooh it when I tell her she’s pretty. I take it you’ve noticed that she’s not 12 anymore.”

[I did not start growing breasts until I was nearly 13.]

“Yes, I do know she’s not 12 and that she’s a lovely girl. No, a lovely young woman. And you darned well know that I know it.”

“I just wanted to introduce the subject and get your brain thinking it over. You will think about it, won’t you?”

“Yes, love. Now, how ‘bout I show you my thoughts about your lovely body.”

“I guess that’d be okay.” [Rustling of clothing] “Come have your way with me, Charlie.”

[Various and sundry bedroom noises]

“Oops. Sorry, Mistress. I couldn’t think straight to end the recording at the time.”

Mom tapped the stop button on the recording.

---

May 10, 2017 (Wednesday)

Dear Ms. Diary,

I got a text from Mom, “9th, Y (in fact, wide open).” Damn!

---

May 11, 2017 (Thursday)

Dear Ms. Diary,

Mom has obviously gotten over a lot of things that have happened recently. I got home from soccer practice around 5:15 and the first thing I heard when I walked in the door was bedroom noises. I placed my gym bag carefully in the foyer and tip-toed down the hall to where I could see their bedroom door in the hall mirror. Whoa! The bedroom door was wide open, and Mom was lying on the bed with her legs hanging over the foot of the bed from her knees down. Her legs were splayed widely, obscenely, and her left hand was going at her pussy like there was no tomorrow, while her right hand was playing with her breasts. Her eyes were closed, and she was panting and mumbling various combinations of “Yes;” “Oh, God;” “I love it;” and “Give it to her.” Mom was obviously nearing orgasm; my pussy flooded. I was nearly as mindless as Mom appeared to be and stepped into the open doorway and watched her cum, squealing loudly enough that she might have been heard from the street!

I did not… quite… start rubbing my pussy, but I stood there, probably gape-mouthed, staring at Mom’s beautiful body, at her left hand by her pussy, and the dreamy expression on her closed-eyes face. I was riveted in place, so when Mom finally opened her eyes, I was busted. Mom started slightly.

“I’m too mellow to care that you saw that. I assume you did see that. Yes? Do I need to send you a text, Mistress?”

I was still a bit flabbergasted, but managed, “Uh, no. That’s okay.”

Then, like a simpleton, I continued to stare.

“I’m a bit embarrassed, Sweetie. I hope you’re not upset.”

“Upset? Uh, no, I’m not upset.”

“Well, you’re something; I don’t know that I’ve ever seen you speechless.”

After a long, probably open-mouthed pause, I softly said, “That was beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you, Beth. Or is it Mistress who is commenting?”

“No, just your daughter.”

“So, do you then accept that you’re beautiful? Our bodies are very similar, and you are younger, which, from what I understand, men use as a looks-assessment facet of its own.”

I don’t think I’ve blushed so much as I have since confronting Mom last week with her infidelity. Our relationship has obviously changed dramatically, and with the new Mistress/Supplicant aspect not accounting for the entire change. Mom now looks at me as a woman, rather than her little girl. And I… I now see her as a woman, and not just my mother. A very sexual woman, and one with an apparent exhibitionist streak (if that “wide open” text comment and today’s open-door masturbation show are any indication) to go along with her submissive streak. She is also a beautiful woman. I still do not see myself as beautiful, but it is hard to refute her arguments.

---

May 13, 2017 (Saturday)

Dear Ms. Diary,

Mom emailed me a conversation recording today, the conversation taking place on the evening of the masturbation show. She apologized to Mistress for the delay in getting it to me, but Dad had been particularly attentive to her yesterday, and she did not think of emailing it until this afternoon.

“Honey, have you thought about my clothing-optional suggestion?”

“I have. It’s been occupying a fair bit of my thoughts since you broached it. Janice [the math department secretary] has even pointed out that I seemed ‘elsewhere’ recently. I passed off my spaciness as a mathematics conundrum.”

“Ah, the tried-and-true excuse.” [Laughter] “By the way, and relevant to the topic, I happened to barge into Beth’s room last week. She was lying on her bed on her stomach, wearing only her, as you put it, birthday suit. She didn’t seem to mind all that much, except, perhaps, for the intrusion. She even told me that she’s usually, and I quote, “nekkid as a jaybird behind her closed door.”

[Short silence]

“Umm. Hmm.”

“She's a lovely young woman. We’re going to be beating the boys off with sticks. Well, once they get over their tongue-hanging obsession with big boobs.”

“Hah! Yes, that’s to be expected from the crowd-following Neanderthals. However, I’m still concerned with what would probably be my inability to not sprout wood in her presence, considering that she looks so much like you. Additionally, we’ve always been a very… uh… tactile family. We still get good-night hugs. How’s that gonna work?”

“Hmm. That’s a point. However, it’s not really a different point, more an increased intensity, if you will, of that point. I think you’d become accustomed, although I can see that it might take a while. Regardless, if we did think to do this, we would have a family discussion about it first. I think Beth would understand. In the past little while, I’ve become more and more impressed with her level-headedness, and I think she’d consider everything that might come up, pardon the pun, with maturity.”

“Yes, I agree with at least part of that; she is level-headed. As to her reactions, I think the jury is still out. Another thing to consider in all this is the amount of time that Rhee spends here. I don’t have as good an understanding of Rhee’s personality… or… not as good as it was when she was mostly living here. I don’t know how she’d react if she were to arrive unexpectedly when we’re all in the buff. She does have a key.”

“Ah, yes. That might be interesting. I hadn’t considered that. I… um…. I think that it’s not a deal-breaker, but we do have to consider the possibility… no, likelihood… no, eventuality of that happening. How long has it been since you were in the same room with naked boobs as larger than mine as Rhee’s are?”

“Uh, quite a while. Uh, that would be when that student… what was her name? … just about jumped me back at the junior college.”

[Laughter]

“I’d forgotten about that. Another girl who thought that because she had bigger boobs, she could get what she wanted. I don’t blame her for what she wanted, but I do blame her for her mindset. What was her name? Ah, well. I know you wouldn’t be disgusted if you had to look at Rhee’s naked body. Am I right?”

“Uh… no; obviously not.”

“And taking this one step further, Carol is here often, too. What about her?”

“Yes, Carol is one fine-looking woman, large breasts or not. I definitely would have trouble controlling my cock if I were naked in front of her.”

“There’s no reason you should expect to do so… naked in front of attractive strange. However, admit it. You’d love to see her naked. I can just imagine it. Carol and Rhee are over for dinner and all of us are sitting around the house without a stitch of clothing on. You’d be quite the stud with your harem of four babe-alicious hotties, particularly with two of them under-age!”

[Cackling]

“Don’t go there!”

“Ooh, what’s that I see? Let me get my clothes off!”

Damn! Does Dad have a thing for girls?

By the way, Mom ended her message in the email “11th, Y (only halfway, you missed out); 12th, N.”

Damn!

---

May 15, 2017 (Monday)

Dear Ms. Diary,

Damn! Mom is on fire. She texted every day last week, except on the days that she indicated in other fashion that she’d had sexual activity. She is also running well ahead of 50% so far this month, though I think that many (most?) of those open-door activities have not included a partner. However, I cannot rule out that she’s masturbated to the open door but jumped my dad’s bones behind the closed door. Hmm, I should go listen some night.

Tomorrow is Rhee’s birthday. I’ve got a nice present for her. I want to give her another present, but I am a bit concerned about what she’d think of it.

CHAPTER THREE

May 17, 2017 (Wednesday)

Dear Ms. Diary,

Mom took the past two days off, but not from work; no texts. Apparently, Dad can be attentive to her, yet with that attention not resulting in sex. Hmm.

Rhee’s birthday was good. The other members of our little clique - Aliyah (“Liya”) and Graciela (“Gracey”), who term themselves the “brown” half of our foursome - were there, and we spent much of the evening being loud. While Gracey is on the team (she’s our starting right fullback), Liya is not; she plays no sports. She’s a riot, though, with an absolutely wicked sense of humor. Rhee loved the bracelet I gave her. I had it engraved with “RD and BW BFF” above “I love you.” I am looking forward to the end of school in nine days. That means sleepovers with more than just Rhee, who will be spending the night here this Friday. I have decided that I will tell her about the other present I want to give her. Just thinking about it gives me butterflies. I think it will not have negative consequences, but I cannot be sure. I am nervous.

---

May 20, 2017 (Saturday)

Dear Ms. Diary,

The relationship between Rhee and me changed a bit last night, to say the least. When we were younger, we partook of the usual childhood curiosities about bodies - I felt her developing breasts a couple times when my chest was still plank-like. I remember her breasts being “cool” and soft, yet firm. We also hugged each other in bed and would find after a night’s sleep one of us wrapped around the other. However, there were never any overtly sexual interactions, though I admit to considering such on multiple occasions in the past year or so.

Last night, Rhee and I wished my parents good night a bit after 10 pm, both of us hugging both of my parents (as per usual) and climbing the stairs to my room. We performed the typical pre-bed ablutions, stripped to our skin, and got in bed (me lying on my left side facing Rhee on her right), the bedside light still on. We chatted about inconsequential stuff for a bit, while I girded my loins, so to speak, to tell her about the other present I wished to give her for her birthday.

“Rhee, I’ve been thinking about something for quite a while. I want to give you another birthday present, but I’m concerned that you’d not want it.”

Rhee caught on that I was truly nervous, so made no crack, instead responding, “Beth, I love you and cannot imagine not wanting or accepting a present from you. I assume that because you didn’t give it to me on Monday, it’s not a typical present.”

“Uh, yes, it’s not a typical present,” after which I hesitated, stammering.

“Just tell me.”

I inhaled deeply, looked down, and said, “Rhee, I’d like to try to give you an orgasm.”

I heard Rhee’s breath catch, but she said nothing, so I looked into her eyes. I was not sure what I was seeing in her dark eyes, but I had never seen it there, before. She continued to stare into me, her mind obviously awhirl, and I started to get a sick feeling in my stomach.

Then she exhaled, “Ohhh;” lunged toward me; rolled me onto my back; and planted her mouth on mine! A short while into the kiss, she opened her lips a bit and extended her tongue to my lips. I mimicked her actions, our arms wound around each other, and we kissed like long-lost lovers until we both needed air.

“Oh, Beth, I’d love to have sex with you, to make love with you. I’ve wanted that for a while but was too afraid I’d ruin our friendship.”

“Me, too!”

I rolled Rhee onto her back and attacked her lips with mine. I moved my right hand to her left breast, which I fondled and squeezed while our tongues did battle. I broke the kiss and climbed on top of her, sat up straddling her hips, and put my hands on her breasts. I pinched both large nipples and Rhee let out a breathy “ahhh.” My mouth followed my hands, sucking on one of her nipples while one of my hands played with the other breast. I kissed between her breasts and then spread kisses up to her neck and to her left earlobe, which I nipped with my teeth. Rhee’s arms again wrapped around me, and she panted in my ear. I continued to string kisses… from her ear, across her eyes to her other ear, back to her mouth, her chin, down her neck, and back to her breasts.

Rhee reached down my back and grabbed both of my ass cheeks, squeezing, rubbing. Despite the incredible feeling, I slowly scooched down her body, planting kisses all over her flat stomach, onto her sides, and down to her navel. I stuck my tongue into her innie and licked all around it. I continued kissing her body down to her trimmed-short patch of black hair above her pussy. At that point, I could smell her, and I inhaled deeply. As I was then between her spread legs, I moved down a short way and licked her slit from bottom to top.

“Ohhhh, YES,” Rhee moaned, and her hands moved to the back of my head. I split her pussy open with my tongue and licked upward again. She was very wet and tasted nice. I looked inside her, noticing the lack of a hymen, so inserted my right index finger into Rhee’s pussy and probed my tongue into the top of her slit, finding her clit.

Rhee squeaked, then moaned quite loudly (it is a good thing my parents’ room is in a very different part of the house!) and pulled my face farther into her crotch. I gently added my middle finger to my index finger in her pussy and began slowly sawing them in and out, while I flicked my tongue over her inflamed clit. As minutes passed, I got more and more practiced at what I was doing to Rhee, learning what she liked. [My only previous experience with a pussy was with mine, and I had never gotten my mouth on it.]

After some time, Rhee started grunting, then held my head tightly to her pussy. I reached my left hand up and found her right breast and pinched that nipple while continuing to lick her clit. With that, she started giving out short squeals and humping her pussy up into my face. I could barely keep my tongue bathing her clit and my fingers moving in her pussy as her pelvis jerked up and down. It was only a couple more tens of seconds before she tipped over into orgasm, continuing her grunting squeals with only her head, shoulders, and heels maintaining contact with the bed.

A short time after her orgasm started, I ceased my fingers’ sawing and moved my tongue to her labia and just gently licked them. Her butt slowly regained contact with the bed and her head lolled to her right, but she continued to whimper-moan for another minute or so and then seemed to cease all activity short of breathing, very deep breathing.

I felt spectacular, triumphant. I had made my best friend have a great orgasm. I did not expect it to be so good, or for it to occur so quickly. I can never get myself off anywhere near that quickly, although I cannot get my tongue on my clit. I had expected the process to take longer and for the result to be a minor orgasm, if I could even manage that much, what with my previous complete lack of experience. I was ecstatic!

After a few minutes, Rhee opened her eyes, looked at me, and said, “That sure is better when someone else does it. I love you. Thank you, so much, for the best birthday present ever!”

I felt that my head would split in twain, I was grinning so widely.

Rhee moved a hand in a vaguely come-here gesture and then reinforced that gesture with, “Come up here.”

I crawled up, lying back on my left side, my head right in front of hers, my eyes staring into hers, my arm hooked around her hip, with my hand rubbing her lower back and ass. Rhee leaned her head forward and gently kissed me, but with her eyes boring into mine, her left hand fondling my right breast.

“That… was… incredible,” she said after ending the kiss. “I’ve never cum so quickly, and never as powerfully. Thank you.”

I leaned in and kissed Rhee, then replied, “You’re more than welcome. I enjoyed it. Tremendously.”

“How did you know to do all you did? I knew it would be good, just because I wanted it so much, but you blew my socks off.”

“How else, Internet porn.”

“Ah. The little I’ve seen of it is pretty coarse and some of it’s disgusting. Also, with my room right next to Mom’s, it’s kind of hard to get away with looking at it.”

“Oh. I agree about the videos, but I mostly read stories. There are a few okay sites out there and a few talented authors, though most of them need a remedial grammar course or two. And a dictionary. But many of the stories are interesting as storylines; some are quite, uh, exciting.”

“Oh, I didn’t know. I could get away with reading. You’ll have to show me those stories.”

I started to rise, thinking I’d fire up my laptop, but Rhee put out a hand to stop me.

“You can show me some other time. I want to return the favor.” She blushed and looked down, “I want to do you.”

I matched her blush, but something zinged in my pussy, and I rubbed my legs together.

I got out a quiet, “Okay.”

Rhee, who had been gently playing with my right breast all this time, moved her hand to my shoulder and pushed me over onto my back. She leaned in and kissed my left breast and replaced her hand on my right breast, pinching that nipple. Her mouth moved to my left nipple and licked and sucked it. My pussy zinged again.

“Ooh, that’s fun,” she said.

“It feels pretty good, too. I liked sucking your nipples; they’re bigger, just like your breasts.”

“I’ve always liked your breasts. Well, for as long as you’ve had more than just little protrusions. They look great on you. I’m sort of jealous of them.”

“What?! The boys all stare at your breasts all the time, usually with their tongues hanging out. Figuratively, when not literally.”

“Well, yeah. That was alright at first, but it’s gotten ridiculous. I’ll bet that most of them don’t know what I look like except for that. Besides, they’re kind of a pain, particularly when running. As you know, I wear a really tight sports bra to play soccer, and it’s uncomfortable. But it’s better than knocking myself out with them.”

I snorted. “They’re not that big.”

“Well, no, but I hope they don’t get any larger. Mom says that really large breasts can cause back problems. I don’t know about that, but I could see it. Besides, you can get away without wearing a bra most of the time. Just imagine what those immature boys would do if I tried that.”

I snorted again. “Yeah, they’d wind up getting detentions or worse, because they’d never pay attention to anything else in school.”

Rhee grinned. “Let me get back to work, here. No, let me get back to pure enjoyment, here,” she said, and then started leaning toward my chest, again.

“Wait, I’ve got an idea. How about if we both do each other at the same time?”

She twisted her face in thought, then asked, “How do we do that?”

“I’m not sure of the exact mechanics, but quite a few of the stories I’ve read include it; it’s called ’69.’”

“69? What does…. Oh, I think I see. We’d have to be oppositely oriented and since each set of legs would be pointing in opposite directions projecting from, essentially, the circle of our torsos, it would look, from particular angles, like a ‘6’ and a ‘9’ that shared the circle. Yeah, that must be it. But are we on our sides or is one of us lying on her back with the other lying on her?”

“Yes, that seems right. From what I’ve read, it’s done both ways. Of course, you can never be sure some of the stuff in those stories is anything remotely like reality. But I know I’d have fun figuring it out with you.”

I then tackled her onto her back and got up and laid on her body, my boobs smashing into hers, and attacked her mouth with mine. Rhee attacked back, and our lips and tongues wrestled for quite some time. I finally pulled up.

“Whew! Now I know what the big deal is about kissing!”

Rhee exhaled and replied, “Yeah! That was great! I hope there are boys out there who can kiss as well as you!”

I snickered; my pussy zinged. I scooted down and started sucking on her left breast and was moving to her right one when she grabbed my head to stop me.

“No, let’s do that 69 thing. I want to make you orgasm.”

“Well, if you must,” I shot back. “But be careful with my cherry, I don’t want to drown you in blood.”

Rhee guffawed and came back with, “I’ll be careful, but we need to do something about that very soon. I’m surprised you haven’t broken it in all the years of soccer.”

I thought for a second and decided to get to… uh, playing. I turned around to face Rhee’s feet and then raised my left leg over her so that I was straddling her chest. Rhee bent her knees and spread her legs for me, so I leaned in toward her pussy, but stopped and said, “Huh. This is a different angle. It won’t be as easy to get to your magic button.”

Right then, Rhee put her tongue on my pussy, and I had no interest in saying anything more. Oh, my fucking god! That was all I could think, except for one other thing: “I could get addicted to this.” I bent my head and resumed making lingual love to my best friend’s pussy. It was hard to concentrate on figuring out how to get to her clit from this angle, what with my own clit being the object of Rhee’s focus, but I managed. At times, I would forget everything except the incredible electricity Rhee’s tongue was generating in my pussy. Coming back from one of those bouts of out-of-body-ness, I thought I’d show her, and figured out how to get two fingers from my right hand inside her while in the position of my head filling up most of the space in her crotch.

Rhee grunt-moaned into my pussy. Wow! That felt... wow. She also started using a finger on my labia and my pussy really started zinging. I redoubled my efforts with my fingers and tongue, and she grunted more. Her tongue and finger stopped moving briefly, and I knew I had just zinged her back. Then she resumed moving her tongue but started working it between my lips. Oh, wow. She began alternating between pushing her tongue along my labia and slathering my clit. I then felt her finger find my clit and I started moaning. Wow! Just, wow! Her finger shifted gears, rubbing my clit rapidly and her tongue seemed frenetic on my labia, between them, joining her finger on or near my clit. Again: OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD!

I could feel my orgasm approaching, so I started pumping my fingers deep and rapidly into Rhee’s pussy and kept my tongue assaulting her clitoris. I heard Rhee start winding into her orgasm, which fueled the approach of mine. Her squeal-moans in my pussy assisted me onto the Stairway to Heaven, but she beat me to the punch, grunt-moaning into my pussy, but maintaining her effort to bring me off.

I was about 30 seconds behind her, as she stopped working my pussy due, apparently, to a lack of neurons firing to keep those digits going. But the fact that I was assaulting her pussy in combination with both hearing her loud squeals in my ears and feeling them in my pussy completed the task that she had started, and I tipped over into Nirvana.

I came to fuller awareness when I felt Rhee trying to shift my hips, probably in trying to get a bit more air, as it felt like my crotch was covering her face. I managed to roll over; re-orient my head to my pillow; collapsed next to her, my arm across her stomach; and found oblivion again. I woke in the middle of the night with her butt in my crotch and my right arm still around her waist. I spooned in more tightly, kissed her right shoulder, and drifted back to sleep.

CHAPTER FOUR

May 21, 2017 (Sunday)

Dear Ms Diary,

I woke to the sound of an arriving text on my phone to find Rhee’s eyes boring into my head. When she saw my eyes, she grinned widely.

“Good morning!”

I blinked slowly then asked, “What time is it?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been awake only a few minutes. You know, you’re beautiful when you sleep.” I dropped my face and started to object, but Rhee continued, “That makes sense because you’re beautiful when you’re awake.”

“Oh, stop it. I am not.”

“Girl, you’re the prettiest girl in our year. I can’t believe you don’t know that. When the boys aren’t staring at my boobs, they’re staring at your face. Considering that they’re all teenagers, I think that makes my argument for me. It’s amazing they stare at anything beyond boobs.”

“I’m not. You are.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. I know I’m attractive. I have only to look at my Mom to see that, but you are decidedly prettier. And I think you also have the best bod in the class, but I know you’ll disagree with that, too. Your ass is divine, and your breasts are just about perfect and match the rest of your body so well.”

I ducked my head and hid my face behind my hair. Rhee tilted my chin up [Do all the females to whom I am close have that move in their argument arsenal?] and brushed my hair aside.

“Quit it,” she said.

“So,” I asked, “now that we’re in the light of day, what do you think about what we did last night?”

“Wicked wonderful!” She hesitated, then came back with, “Will we do it again, sometime?”

“Oh, god, yes!”

I got a text from Mom, “20th, Y.” Again… DAMN!

---

24 May 2017 (Wednesday)

Dear Ms. Diary,

Apparently, Mom took the past couple days off, as I got no texts from her. Right after Mom got home and shortly before Dad did, I met her in the kitchen and said, “Supplicant, you will make breakfast on Saturday morning in the nude.”

Mom hesitated, opened her mouth, closed it, and then replied, “Yes, Mistress.”

“Supplicant, you will also record any conversation that takes place in the kitchen during the time between preparing breakfast and cleaning up after breakfast, inclusive. You will play for me to hear any part of that recording that touches on the clothing-optional proposal.”

---

Figuring that Mom might be a bit turned on by my command earlier in the day, I made a point of slipping downstairs just now to look in the hall mirror. Bingo! Mom was riding Dad’s crotch, and I must have arrived near the end, as she was winding up to an orgasm. Dad’s left hand was mauling her breasts; his right hand was hidden behind her left leg but seemed to be playing with her pussy. Mom’s voice rose in decibels and Dad arched up and grunt-groaned; Mom’s orgasm then claimed her. I watched as they both came down from their highs, Mom now lying on Dad, who was rubbing her back.

My hand found its way inside my panties, and I began rubbing my clit. However, I quickly decided I would be flirting with trouble, so tiptoed down the hall and bolted, quietly, to my room, where I, also, achieved a state of bliss.

---

May 25, 2017 (Thursday)

Dear Ms. Diary,

Mom texted yesterday “24th, Y; did you enjoy that?”

Damn! How did she know I was there watching the end of their love session?

---

May 27, 2017 (Saturday)

Dear Ms. Diary,

School is out! Well, it was out yesterday afternoon, but I am writing this on Friday morning after not having to get up to an alarm. I am still confused as to how Mom knew I watched on Wednesday night. Or, did she just guess, having figured out my own thinking on the possibility? I will have to think about that.

---

After Mom and Dad went off to work, I spent the morning in the house sans clothes. While I’ve done that on other occasions, I had never spent an entire morning naked outside of my room. While I was packing my overnight bag (I will be at Rhee’s tonight), Rhee texted to say she’d be over shortly (we had planned to walk to soccer practice together). I responded that the back door was open.

I had a quick thought, smiled what felt like an evil grin, and finished packing my bag. I got the clothes I would wear to practice, took them and my bag down to the living room, picked a book off the shelf, and lounged on the couch with the book open in front of my face. I don’t remember what book it was, but I wasn’t reading it, so I have something of an excuse.

I heard the back door open and then Rhee’s voice, “I’m here.” As her footsteps approached the living room, she said, “Are you re…,” and she and her query stopped. Then, “Hey, girl, did you forget something?”

I lowered the book, looked up at her, frowned a bit in “thought,” and responded, “No. I think I’ve got everything in my bag I’ll need after practice.”

“Oh, aren’t you a comedienne,” she said archly.

My face split into a huge grin; “I love you, too, Babe.”

Rhee sauntered over to the couch and bent down. I thought she was going to kiss me. Instead, she planted her mouth on my left nipple and sucked.

“Hey! What if my parents were home? We wouldn’t want them to think we’re lesbians.”

Her mouth came off my boob and shot back, “No, I guess we wouldn’t, would we. However, I wouldn’t mind your dad catching us like this, although I’d want to be naked, too.”

While she had hinted before at her attraction to Dad, she had never been remotely that explicit. My mind slipped its gear for a few seconds, but then I riposted, “Do I have to tell my mom you’re trying to steal her husband? You know she’d whale on you, right?”

Rhee snorted and then said, “Come on, girl, I don’t want to get all worked up and then have to deal with Coach and practice and….”

“But my boobs are uneven now. You’ve got to suck the other one.”

“Uneven boobs? Oh, dear. What’s the number for 9-1-1?”

I grinned again, put the book away, got dressed, and we headed to practice.

---

At night, we were horsing around in Rhee’s bed when Carol knocked on the door, “Girls, what are you doing in there? Are you trying to break the bed?”

We looked at each other, eyes wide and with our faces expressing some concern. Rhee recovered first.

“No, Mom, we’re just fooling around.”

“May I come in?”

“Uh, sure. Let me get more clothes on.”

Carol started coming in after the “Uh, sure.”

“Mom! I said that I’ll put more clothes on!”

“We’re all girls here, Rhee. I’ve seen both of you naked more than once before. I don’t see the problem.”

“Mo-ommm. That’s been years.”

“Does it truly matter? Besides, it hasn’t been years. I came in one night a couple of months ago when you two were sleeping. You were talking loudly in your sleep, and I came to check on you. Once I saw you were both asleep, I went back to bed. So, I already know you two still sleep in the buff together. I know that you always do, Rhee, and, given Beth’s state, she does, too,” with the rising inflection at the end suggesting that she was asking.

I nodded.

Carol continued looking at me, then said, “I already know I’m going to have to beat the boys off of Rhee with a stick, but it’s apparent that your parents will need to do the same.”

What? Is it officially “Embarrass Beth” month? Who proclaimed that?

“Anyway,” Rhee’s mom continued, “I wanted to ask you two about tomorrow night. Beth, do I need to bring something to dinner? And when will you two be back from practice? I ask now, as I need to go in to work early tomorrow and you slug-a-beds probably will not be up to ask before then.”

Rhee looked at me, and I answered, “Ah, Mom said that she’s got everything, but that a bottle would be nice.”

“Okay, I’ll stop on the way home and get something. Rhee?”

Rhee looked at me again, then turned back to her mom and said, “Probably about 4, I’d think,” at which point she looked at me, elevating her left eyebrow. [I am occasionally jealous of that skill.]

I nodded.

Carol continued, “You know, when it’s just us girls here - and when was the last time a man was here, other than Charlie? - you don’t need to dress on my account.”

My head immediately swiveled to face Rhee, whose eyes were looking at me, her face showing surprise. I was starting to wonder if my mom had told Carol what I had commanded, and butterflies were beginning to cavort in my tummy.

Rhee turned back to her mother, “Are you saying we don’t have to wear clothes in the house?”

“You’re going to go far in your education being so bright,” Carol came back sarcastically.

I snorted.

“Yes, that is what I meant. I’ve been pondering that since that night when I found that you two were still sleeping in the nude. Since I had been considering the subject previously…. I’m not saying you must do so, just that the option is open to you, providing that you don’t object to my own nudity in the house.”

After a pregnant pause, I answered, “Oh, no, Mrs. D, I wouldn’t object.”

“No, Mom, that’s fine.”

“That’s another thing, Beth. Why don’t you just call me ‘Carol?’ I look at both of you as adults, or virtually so, and adults who are friends use first names.”

“Wow, Mrs. D, I….” Carol gave me the hairy eyeball, so I re-started, “I don’t know if my parents would approve.”

“Oh, bother. They’re eminently reasonable people; they wouldn’t care. So, please.”

I nodded.

CHAPTER FIVE

May 28, 2017 (Sunday)

Dear Ms. Diary,

This date provided yet more drama in my life. The day started great, went sharply downhill in mid-morning, and got quite a bit better by the end of the day.

I woke to find myself wrapped in Rhee’s embrace, my ass spooned into her crotch, her breasts smooshed against my back. I snuggled more completely back into her, put my left hand onto hers as it was holding my right breast, and luxuriated in the feeling.

[Quick aside: I had not previously thought about it, but both Rhee and I are left-side-of-the-bed sleepers and we “give in” to the other in her bed.]

My mind thought back to last night and our sex session, one we had to keep quieter than our last one; Carol’s room shares a wall with Rhee’s. I now have a much better understanding of why so many people get married or live together. This situation, right here, right now, is wonderful. Neither Rhee nor I are gay, but we are very close, and I could certainly see myself enjoying her like this more. Much more.

Rhee and I were in the middle of making brunch, when Carol came in the door, which was surprising on two accounts. The first was that she was back from work earlier than she had indicated last night and the second was that she looked like she had been crying. We had startled a bit when the door started opening, as we hadn’t heard her car - we did have music playing - and we were both in our birthday suits. However, as soon as Rhee saw Carol, she went to her mother and wrapped her arms around her.

“What’s wrong, Mom?”

With a face that I could see was strained, Carol replied, “Nothing dear. I just got to leave earlier than I expected.”

“Mother, you’ve been crying. What’s wrong?”

Carol replied by blubbering, “I… I’m b… being… silly.”

“It’s not silly if you’re crying,” said Rhee.

Eventually, Rhee got the story out of her mom. It seems that she had set her cap for a male co-worker and had finally gotten up the gumption on a previous day to ask him out. She had started that conversation by asking if he was seeing someone. He had responded, “No, I haven’t dated in quite some time.” They had agreed on a week from today. At work, today, she was chatting with a co-worker friend who regaled her with tales of her bedroom romp the previous night with the very guy she had asked out. Carol had missed out on water-cooler talk about the Lothario. She then begged off work and came home.

“Why do I always pick the wrong guys? That wandering eye of your father’s, Rhee, is why he’s not in our lives.” She almost started crying again, and moaned quietly, so quietly that I could just make out that she said, “It’s been so long.”

I left for home after eating a subdued brunch, during which Carol would often become glassy-eyed, and all conversation was stilted. I had confirmed before I left that they were still coming for dinner tonight. At dinner, I watched Carol quite a bit, hoping she was getting over her disappointment. I was watching her watch people when a light suddenly lit in my brain. Hmm, I will have to ponder that. I’ll tell you, Ms. Diary, if that light leads to something.

---

June 2, 2017 (Friday)

Dear Ms. Diary,

Mom sent a text: “1st, N.’

This is the first text this week; Mom has been quiet. However, and I suspect that this is the ultimate cause behind the text, Mom played a conversation for me this afternoon, shortly after getting home from practice. Before playing it, she told me that Dad had instigated the conversation. Fortunately, she had her phone in her hand at the time.

“I’m sorry, Dear, I was lost in thought. What did you say?”

“You usually broach the subject, but since I’ve been doing some thinking, I thought I’d beat you to the punch. If we were to establish the house as a clothing-optional area, how do we deal with visitors, those we invite and those that show up unannounced?”

“I’ve pondered that aspect quite a bit. From various clues over the years, I think Carol would probably be okay with it, possibly even positive about it, though I have no clue about Rhee. I could feel Beth out about it, obliquely. As for other guests…. We would probably need a rule that clothing was mandatory at such times. Or, we could have a list of people who were aware of the clothing-optional status of our house and were fine with it. The list would start at zero unless we think we can add Carol and Rhee to it.” There was a bit of silence, then, “I can see you would not mind those names being on the list.”

[Snicker]

“Very funny. It’s simply reacting to your beauteousness.”

“Hah. You can’t sell me that bridge!”

“So, from what you said, I assume you think Beth would not object.”

“Yes. I believe she’d be fine with it. Are you still concerned about exposing this cock to her? I know you know you’ll ‘sprout wood’ at her delectable ass every time you see it for a while. Would you be okay with that?”

“Mmmm. Ohhhh. How do you expect me to think with you doing that?”

“What? Little ol’ me? I’m not doing anything.”

[Snort]

“Quit that! I’m trying to discuss important issues!”

“Yes, Dear.”

“Could you handle… no, not that! … watching me ‘sprout wood’ at our daughter? Because you’re right. It would probably take me quite a while before I became even close to inured to her naked body. It does not help that she looks so much like the love of my life.”

“What? Do you have a girl on the side?”

“Very funny.”

[Quiet moaning]

“Quit that!”

“You’re the one who raised the subject.”

“Droll, so droll. I’m leaning toward agreeing to the new house policy. While I’d like to avoid discussing it with all three of us until after any decision is made, that wouldn’t be fair to Beth. However, I’m concerned, almost terrified, about having that family discussion. If Beth is against it, just bringing the subject up could cause consternation and a change of attitude toward us.”

“I’ll try to get some hints from Beth tomorrow, both about her and about Rhee. Now….”

[Slurping, much moaning, various bedroom sounds]

“Oops, Mistress, once again, I didn’t have the mental wherewithal to stop the recording.”

“Whoa. So, Mom… Supplicant, did you do that on purpose?”

“What, Honey?”

“What?!”

“Oh, forgive me, Mistress. Partly, Mistress.”

“You thought you’d suck him to what… titillate me?”

“I just thought you might enjoy it.”

“Umm, oh. Oh, my. You really like the loss of control, don’t you?” Mom’s face turned crimson. “You do. Oh. Wow. I won’t…. Never mind. Thank you, Supplicant.”

“Mistress, while I can tell Charlie that from the ‘hints’ you’ve given me, that you’ll probably be okay with the clothing-optional proposition, he needs to know what Carol and Rhee would think. In some regards, it’s probably most important to know what Rhee would think, as she’s in and out of here, while Carol is here, mostly, at known times. But, if Carol were to object about Rhee being exposed to us in all our glory, then that would be bad for you and us.”

“Well, that’ll probably not be a problem. I think. When I was there last weekend, she effectively established their house as a clothing-optional area.”

“What?!”

“Yes. She came into Rhee’s room after we had gone to bed and, seeing that we were naked, told us we need not dress if it’s just, ‘we three girls here.’”

“You two were naked in bed?”

“Mom! You know we’ve slept naked together since we were nine!”

“Just because you did it at age nine does not necessarily mean you do it as a teen. People change, change a lot, from nine to a teenager.”

I rolled my eyes, afraid to say anything.

“Besides,” she continued, “it’s no big deal to play around, experiment with your girlfriends. I certainly did at your age, Mistress.”

“Hmm,” I thought, “did she add that ‘Mistress’ to get us back on that footing so I’ll command her to tell me about it? Is the Pope Catholic?” I chuckled. “Tell me about it, Supplicant.”

“Yes, Mistress. My best friends when I was your age were Bethany, as you know, and Keya. Keya was a stunning girl, from India, and a bit younger than Bethany and me. We met her when we started 8th grade. At a sleepover at Bethany’s…, the following summer, I think, we wound up playing Truth or Dare. Bethany’s room, like yours, was distant from her parents’, so we could get away with at least a little boisterousness on sleepovers. Over the course of playing the game during many overnights, various dares had gotten Bethany and me down to our panties and Keya to panties and a T. I think…, yes, there had even been dares of French kissing, with Bethany first daring me to French Keya and Keya responding by daring Bethany to French me. But, Keya, despite her strict upbringing, was something of a free spirit, and she allowed that spirit free rein when it was just the three of us. Despite her younger age - a few months? -- she was the dominant member of our clique, and Bethany and I truly pined when her family returned to India when we were 15.

“Anyway, Keya dared that, in addition to the kiss, Bethany fondle my breasts. Since the forfeit for refusing a dare was that the other two got to do whatever they wanted with or to the forfeiting person, there was little incentive to refuse dares… however embarrassing. “I think I moaned into Bethany’s mouth when her hands cupped my breasts and again when she pinched my nipples. There was a time stipulation, probably a minute, on the kiss, but that minute got my motor running.

“After that first overtly sexual dare, things got a bit… um… out of hand, with Keya making the most outlandish dares and, now that I think about it, moving all of us into a sexual relationship. One time, Keya dared me to go, as I was - we were all naked at that point, to the kitchen to get a glass of water. I nearly refused, but it was late, and Bethany’s parents were almost certainly in bed. Butterflies were kicking the inside of my stomach quite hard, but my pussy got very wet as I cautiously made my way to the kitchen. I was successful in getting back to the bedroom without discovery.

“Keya eventually dared Bethany to finger Keya’s pussy. I think that got Keya going because the next dare she gave was that I had to allow Bethany to fondle and kiss my breasts for five minutes AND that I was to allow her to… what was the phrase that she used… something like ‘service my pussy with her mouth at the same time.”

I inhaled deeply, surprised and turned on by my mother’s admission, saying, “Wow! How did that go?”

“Oh, my god, it was wonderful. I was very near orgasm when the five minutes were up, so when Bethany, who was next, dared me to finish myself off, I had nearly no qualms about doing so in front of the two of them. After I came, Bethany and Keya just started, well… I can only call it ‘making love.’ Keya was lying on top, and their hands were roaming all over each other’s bodies. I saw Bethany start caressing and squeezing Keya’s ass, so I joined in, helping Bethany with Keya’s ass. I eventually found myself lying between their spread legs, Keya still on top, alternately licking and fingering each of their pussies, while Bethany continued playing with Keya’s ass and Keya was fondling Bethany’s tits and with their mouths locked together. Keya started to orgasm while I was licking her, so I re-doubled my efforts on her, all while I was still fingering Bethany. Keya’s orgasm sent Bethany over the edge.”

I exclaimed, “Oh, my god! That sounds incredible!”

“It was. It was one of the most wonderful experiences of my life. After that night, the three of us dispensed with games. When we went to bed at sleepovers, we did sex.”

“Wow. Just… wow” I exclaimed. I then inhaled and stated, “Supplicant, you will again wear no clothes on Saturday, at least until Rhee and I get back from the game. That will probably be about 1:30 or 2:00. The team will probably get lunch together after the game.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

CHAPTER SIX

June 4, 2017 (Sunday)

Dear Ms. Diary,

This afternoon while Dad was out running errands, Mom came to my door and was about to knock but saw the door open and me reading on my bed in my usual lack of clothing there.

“Come in, Mom.”

“You weren’t kidding about being naked in your room.”

“Nope.”

“And your door is open; anyone could have seen you.”

“Really, Mom? Not only is there no one here but you and me, I know what Dad sounds like on his way up the stairs, and I could easily close the door before he got to it.”

“Or are you hoping that he’ll ‘catch’ you at it?”

I felt my cheeks heat, but came back with, “You wish. You just like to embarrass me.”

“Mistress, you had commanded me to fix breakfast in the nude and record any conversations touching on the clothing-optional policy.”

“Correct, Supplicant. Play it.”

Mom sat on my chair, put her phone on the desk, said, “This will take a while,” and started the recording.

[Sounds of food prep: refrigerator opening, pans clanging, etc. Humming, singing.]

“Hey, did you forget something, little lady?”

“Nope. The eggs and bacon are nearly ready; the biscuits are done and staying warm in the oven. Did you want OJ?

“I see where your daughter gets what you fondly call her ‘sense of humor.’”

[SMACK!]

“Ouch, you brute. Who told you that you could spank the chef? I don’t recall that being permitted in my employment contract.”

“Oh, it’s permitted. You obviously didn’t notice the fine print. This, also, is permitted.”

“Ooof. Barbarian! Putting that thing inside me is not permitted. It can’t be.”

“Oh, it is. If not in print, then in legal chef-molesting precedent.”

“That’s more than mere molestation, unkind Sir. That could get your bacon burned.”

“Oh, by all means, we can’t have that!”

[Whimper] “Where’d you go? I was just coming around to your side of the argument.”

“Oh, there’s more of that where that came from. Don’t you fret, you lovely-assed chef of mine.”

[SMACK!]

“Go sit, Boss-man, your breakfast is coming.”

“Ah, but will you be coming, too?”

“Sit!”

[Table sounds: cutlery on plates, liquid pouring, various chatter about ‘how many,’ ‘how much;’ food-enjoyment sounds]

“Do we know when Beth will be back?”

“I can’t imagine that it would be much before noon. Why? Did you have plans for this morning in this temporarily empty nest?”

“Of course. I thought I’d try to finish that book I started last year.”

“And you make fun of my sense of humor?”

“Pish-tosh.”

[Dead air, clearing-table sounds, dishwasher-loading sounds, water running]

“Do you want some help with those?”

“Aren’t you gallant? It’ll take me all of three minutes to wash the pans, so…. Hey, who said you could grab the chef’s ass? Aaaah. What are you doing, you brute? You’ve already been in there this morning.” [Moaning] “How am I supposed to do the dishes when you’re doing me? Nnnnn, yes.”

“You’ll just have to multi-task, won’t you?”

“If we… ohhhhh…,” [Squeal] “do the clothing-optional thing, are you going to bend me over the sink and fuck me with Beth in the house? Or Rhee?”

[Deep moan and sex sounds for a while]

“Is that what you want, Dear?” [Grunting] “If you’re naked, I’ll be tempted to do all sorts of things to you … aaaahh … no matter who might be watching. What about you, strumpet? If you…,” [Grunting, moaning, squealing] “see me on the couch sprouting wood at Beth, will you just climb on board?”

[More grunting, squealing, orgasm sounds, panting, heavy breathing slowly subsiding]

“Hey, where are you going? You’re walking away, leaving your cum to just dribble down my legs? Brute!”

[Laughter]

“Perhaps you should take a shower, chef-wench. I’ll meet you there.”

[Giggle]

My face was burning, listening to my parents having sex in the kitchen; my pussy was flooding. “Did you play that to embarrass me?”

“Mistress, you commanded that I play for you ‘any part of that recording touching on the clothing-optional proposal.’”

“Okay, yes, I did, but that wasn’t just ‘part of that recording.’ That was, seemingly, the whole thing. You started that recording as soon as you got into the kitchen and didn’t turn it off until you giggled your way to the shower.”

“Well, I didn’t want to go against your wishes and, considering that your father and I were naked in the kitchen, I felt it was relevant to clothing being optional.”

“Aah, but you set that whole scene up, figuring that Dad would do what he did and that listening to you two would embarrass me.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“You want clothing to be optional, don’t you?”

Mom, or Supplicant, blushed and looked down. Then she raised her head, looked me straight in the eyes, and answered, “Yes, Mistress.”

“I see whence I got my slight exhibitionistic streak.”

“Yes, Mistress,” she said, still looking me in the eyes.

CHAPTER SEVEN

June 10, 2017 (Saturday)

Dear Ms. Diary,

This week, Mom has sent nearly a text a day, missing only today, with two each “Y” and “N.” Rhee will be coming over shortly to spend the night, and I am getting wet thinking about what we’ll probably wind up doing. Ah, there is her dulcet voice, now.

---

Rhee and I were still in the kitchen when Dad and Mom got home from running errands, carrying grocery bags in. Dad was first in with many bags, so I waited until he’d put them on the island until I hugged him.

“Hi, Dad.”

He hugged me back, saying, “Hey, Cupcake.”

As I disengaged, Rhee walked up to him, saying “Hey” and then hugged him.

Dad hugged her, and said, “Hey, Brat, who invited you?”

[Ms. Diary, I have to explain that. In the time during which Rhee effectively lived here, that was Dad’s frequent line to Rhee when he came home to find her still here.]

Rhee gave him an extra squeeze for that; a typical reaction to her remembrance of those times, the bad and the good.

The four of us played Monopoly; Mom won, as per usual. I don’t know why we let her play. After the game was over and we’d had a late dessert of ice cream, Rhee and I went to bed. I started taking my shirt off as soon as we were in the stairwell heading up to my room.

“A little anxious, are we?”

“Uh, no, I’m just hot,” to which Rhee snorted. “Um, I meant that the house is hot.”

“Sure, girl. I believe you,” shot Rhee, “though you are hot.”

I blushed. Fortunately, my head was still buried in my coming-off shirt. I hadn’t been wearing a bra, and Rhee took advantage and reached from behind me and grabbed my right breast.

“Who’s anxious?”

“I was just trying to see if your nips were hard. And since they are, I know you’re hot in two fashions.”

“That’s not fair, they weren’t hard before you molested me.”

“Rii-igght.”

We had reached my door, which I opened, entered, and then stood by the open door to let Rhee into the room. She headed toward my bed, grabbing the hem of her shirt. While her shirt was coming up over her head, I pushed her so that she’d fall on the bed. Rhee yelped and landed face first, whereupon I jumped on the bed and laid myself on top of her, reaching up to trap her head inside her shirt.

“Turnabout is fair play, babe.”

“Arrgggh, let me go, bitch.”

“For that…,” and I started tickling her pits. She gave a banshee squeal and started trying to get out from under me. Since she outweighs me by 20 pounds and is stronger, to boot, it did not take her long. She got her shirt off, then rolled me over and attacked my belly, where she knows I am most ticklish. We were struggling back and forth across the bed, and were suddenly interrupted by…

“I love seeing the children rough-housing in bed. It brings back memories.”

We both sat bolt upright, mouths agape, staring at my Mom just outside the door. A scene flashed across my mind of Mom relating her “rough-housing” memory from when she was 14. I’ll just bet! Neither of us could get out a coherent word, but Mom continued.

“I came up to see if you two would like to go to brunch with us at Granny Brown’s.”

[Granny Brown’s is our local diner; it serves a wicked breakfast.]

I looked at Rhee, who nodded and replied to my mom, “Sure. What time?”

“How ‘bout we leave at 9?”

“Okay. We’ll try to drag our butts out of bed before then.”

“Okay, Dear. You two have fun,” Mom shot over her shoulder.

I looked over at Rhee, whose chin was back to hanging down. “Sorry about that. Mom thinks she has a sense of humor.”

That got Rhee out of her stupor. “Oh, like you don’t think the same. Your mom has the same sense of humor you do, Pot. Or are you Kettle?”

“Oh, you’re so funny.”

“Umm, was your mom wearing only a t-shirt?”

That knocked me back. My mind re-played the mental videotape, and I then responded, “Uh, maybe.”

“I thought I saw her butt cheeks poking out briefly as she turned to go.”

My mind went racing. I have figured out in recent years that Mom rarely does anything with no purpose, and she is bright, so often has two, or even, three birds at which she aims her stones. “Hmm,” I thought. “I wonder. We’ll have to check on that.”

I brought my mind’s deviation to an end and responded, “That may be. What is she up to, now,” I asked, rhetorically.

Rhee shrugged her shoulders and asked, “What do you want to do? It’s still only 10.”

“How’s your mom? Is she still moping over that asshole at work?”

“I don’t think so, but she does get a little spacy at times, though I may not have noticed that, previously. We were talking about you guys coming to dinner tomorrow, and she got a little spacy then. Old fogeys; go figure.”

“Hmm,” I thought. “Is that data point number two? Tenuous, but….”

To keep Rhee from pondering what I was pondering or even asking me about it, I said, “Did you look at the last Barcelona video I sent you? I tell you, Barça’s whole team, but especially the front line and midfielders can pass like … I don’t know, but it’s just crazy. It’s sorta like they can read each other’s minds. And they seem to live for counter-attacks.”

“I know. We’d win state if we could pass even half as well. Hell, a third as well! Part of their passing skill, particularly in tiki-taka, is, obviously, experience. Their skill at passing on counter-attacks, the passes to streakers, may be that they can see the streaker’s options at the same time as he does, though Iniesta, Xavi, and Busquets seem to see them even before the runner does. I swear, those guys either have other sources of sight or they know their team members so well that they can usually predict what they’ll do in given situations. Messi is a great… no, a spectacular forward, but I don’t think he’d have been quite so dominant without that incredible trio of midfielders supporting him. I think we, er…, you, should ask Coach to put together a whole bunch of clips of Barça’s passing and get her to get us practicing that sort of anticipation.”

“Hmm. That’s not a bad idea. Of course, you just want more goals, piggy,” I retorted as a grin split my face.

“Well, of course. Sanderson is just too close behind. I sure hope our defense can smother her in two weeks.”

We chatted for a while more about the team, discussing whether we should “man” mark Sanderson, and spent a bit of time designing a couple of offensive plays that should work Tuesday against Midland. We’d been at it for about 20 minutes when my brain reminded me of something… of Mom coming up here in just a T.

“Hey,” I said, “put your shirt and panties back on and follow me. Quietly.” I bent down, picked up my T and panties, and donned them, then added, “Remember, that 3rd step from the bottom squeaks.”

“What are we doing?”

“Just follow me.”

We tiptoed down the steps, avoiding the squeaky one; through the living room; and into the kitchen. At the entrance to the hall off which my parents’ room is, I turned and put my finger to my lips. I could already hear bedroom sounds; their door must be at least partly open. Rhee’s eyes got huge and she stared at me. I grinned but repeated the shushing move, to which she nodded.

Oh.

My.

God.

Their door was wide open, their room well lit, and, in the hall mirror, we could see Dad standing at the foot of the bed, his great ass staring us in the face. I knelt, then decided to sit, as who knows how long they’d be at it; Rhee mirrored my actions.

Mom was lying face down on the bed - the covers were nowhere to be seen - with her legs spread and hanging off the bed. Dad was between her legs, absolutely pounding his cock into Mom’s pussy. Mom was panting and squealing; Dad was grunting. After a few more thrusts, Dad pulled out, rolled Mom over, knelt, and began eating her. Mom’s hands grasped Dad’s head and pulled like she was trying to get his whole head, rather than just his tongue, into her pussy. Mom began squealing again but then started pulling on him harder.

“C… come up… uhaaah… up here. I need your cock!”

Dad shook his head, never taking it away from her pussy. One hand then reached up and grabbed her left nipple and pinched it and proceeded to maul that breast. After a bit - I had lost all track of time - Dad relented, stood up, and crawled up onto the bed.

“Scoot up,” he grunted and proceeded to help Mom do just that. He then spread Mom’s legs a bit. We could see her pussy, which was enflamed and leaking. Not for long, though, as he knelt between her legs and seemed to be rubbing his cock head all around her pussy, though we could not see it as his left leg was in the way. It looked like he shoved himself inside her and then raised each knee in succession and placed it outside her hip on that side, resulting in him straddling her pelvis. He then leaned over and kissed Mom. She grabbed him on both sides of his head and attacked his mouth with hers. He began thrusting into her with long, slow strokes; Mom groaned into his mouth.

With Dad straddling Mom, we could see his balls hanging. They seemed to slam into Mom every time Dad bottomed out in Mom’s pussy, and then swung back after he’d pulled back and was starting to thrust into her again. I’ve never seen something so captivating in my life.

I heard a slight moan from beside me and turned to see Rhee’s hand in her panties frigging her clit to beat the band. Her left hand was covering her mouth, despite that Mom and Dad were making enough noise to drown out a much louder sound than Rhee’s little moan. As my head turned to look back at Mom and Dad, my right hand crept into my panties to join the club.

I returned to watching Dad’s balls as if they were a particularly entrancing pendulum. After some time - who knows how long, but probably not all that long, Dad’s thrusting rate accelerated. Shortly thereafter, the sounds escaping Mom started rising in pitch. Was Mom starting up the slope of orgasm? Yup, Dad’s thrust rate increased further, about in step with Mom’s squeals climbing the scale. Dad then bent up a bit more so he could get his mouth on Mom’s right breast…, no, her right nipple, and he seemed to bite it. That set Mom off, wailing, thrusting her hips into Dad, and then screaming like she was being murdered. Dad’s grunts changed into loud, voiced vowels, also climbing in pitch. They both tipped over into orgasm.

Rhee’s moans, even behind her mouth, had started getting a bit loud, so I pulled my hand out of my panties, grabbed her crotch, and held her hand still, then lifted my head rapidly to indicate that we should go back to my room. She nodded her head, pulled her hand out of her panties, and stood up. We retreated to my room.

Once the door closed behind us, Rhee exclaimed, “Oh, my fucking god! That was so fucking hot!”

She then quickly stripped. Apparently, I was shucking my clothing too slowly, as she grabbed the waistband of my panties and yanked them to my feet. As I was pulling my shirt over my head, I lifted one foot at a time so she could get my panties completely off me. She then tackled me onto the bed, grabbed my thighs and spread them widely, and launched her mouth at my pussy.

“Ohaaaah,” I moaned. I grabbed her head and said, “Get your pussy up here.” I got through her extreme horniness, as she quickly shuffled her body and straddled my head, then went back to bathing my labia with her tongue. I attacked her pussy. Rhee inserted two fingers into my hole [oh, yes, we had done something about my hymen] and I mirrored her actions. I think it did not take even three minutes and we were both wailing our orgasms!

As we came down from Heaven, Rhee turned around and flopped heavily back down onto the bed beside me, turned to her left side, put her right leg over me, and squeezed me tight.

“I hope this doesn’t bother you, “she said into my ear, “but your Dad is so fucking hot! While his nuts were rocking back and forth when he was fucking your Mom, I just wanted to go in and lick them.”

I flinched a bit; not because it bothered me…. Well, it did ‘bother’ me, but in the meaning of the word when used in the phrase, “hot and bothered.” It did not bother me because, well, she’s right. My dad is hot, and I, too, wanted to do something with those balls of his.

I stuttered a bit, then got out, “No, I’m not mad or bothered in that fashion. You weren’t the only one thinking those thoughts.”

Rhee pulled her head back to focus on my eyes. “You want your Dad?”

I looked back into her eyes and said, “Well, do you know of any other male, man or boy, who is that good-looking and that nice? And that fit? Mom told me once that Dad is the most attractive male she’s ever known, and he’s certainly the most attractive male I’ve ever known. I’m spoiled; how could I settle for those tongue-hanging imbeciles in our school?”

“There is that. While I can appreciate your dad, you’re his daughter, and that’s a bit kinky, don’t you think?

“That’s a lotta bit kinky, girl. But, if he were your dad, what would you think?”

“Oh, I’d want him, just like you do. Anybody else I’ve ever known would be a step down. A large step down. Hell! A few large steps down.”

“Exactly. Throw in the fact that he’s crazy about Mom, and we’ll both die spinsters pining for him.”

“Yeah. I want him, but I would never want to come between him and your mom. You’d hate me, and that’s the very last thing I’d want.”

I grabbed her and assaulted her mouth, shoving in my tongue, and entwining it with hers. I then reached down and wriggled my left hand between Rhee’s legs and went in search of her clit. She raised her right leg and bent it at the knee, opening the way for me. I got a moan into my mouth for my efforts. Rhee’s hand then followed the path of mine, rubbed my hand that was playing with her pussy, and then she inserted her right hand between my legs. Being on my back, I simply let my left leg fall over and bent my knee. She put those same two fingers in my pussy that she’d shoved into me earlier and then found my clit with her thumb. I gave her moan back.

We both were still on edge from watching my parents have sex. Although we started this bout hot and heavy, we slowed things down and tried different things. While reaching orgasm took longer than our first joint orgasm, and these orgasms weren’t joint, the sex involved more different positions and more exploring. After coming back to earth, I grabbed the end of the sheet and pulled it over us. We were asleep in seconds.

---

June 11, 2017 (Sunday)

Dear Ms. Diary,

After a scrumptious breakfast, we dropped Rhee off at her house and went home. I went to my room and was in the process of stripping the bed and putting on fresh sheets when Mom knocked on the jamb.

“Come on in, Mom.”

“What’s this,” she asked.

“I always strip the bed after…” I started, only to have Mom interrupt.

“Not the bed. You’re not ‘nekkid as a jaybird.’”

I looked down. She was right; I was still wearing panties. “Oh, pardon me, madame,” I responded in an outrageous French accent and then proceeded to doff my panties. “Is that better?”

“I’m sure, Mistress, that it is not my place to say.”

“Oh, we’re in that situation.”

“Yes, Mistress. I came to tell you ‘10th and yes. Wide open. Did you enjoy that, Mistress? I certainly did.”

“Oh, my god, Mo… uh, Supplicant, you did very well.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” Mom then cast her eyes down and asked, “Might I question Mistress as to her reaction to the show, and that of Rhee?”

I did not know how to answer. How did she know we were there? Since she obviously did know, I took two steps, wrapped my arms around her (mostly to hide my burning face), and whispered in her ear.

“That was unreal…” and, after a pause, “Supplicant. We both liked it a lot.”

I thought about how much our relationship had changed since I blackmailed her into releasing her libido. She’s obviously an exhibitionist of high order, probably more so than I am. Also, since her arms went around my waist when I enfolded her and one hand wound up rubbing my left butt cheek, I began wondering even more about her sexuality. Yes, I wanted some sexual relationship with her husband, but was she interested in me? How would that work?

She replied, equally as quietly, “I’ve had a grand sex life, Mistress, since I started dating Charlie, but last night’s orgasm was the best. I was apparently out cold for a bit after.”

I thought furiously and, after a bit, released Mom, stepped back, and looked her in the eyes.

“Supplicant, when the clothes-optional policy is instated, I will expect that your… that you and Charlie will not limit your… sex play to your bedroom. Don’t push him too hard, but I would like your sex life - the sex life of Charlie and you - to include any or every room in the house, whether there are others present or not.”

Mom again lowered her head, though not before I saw her eyes brighten and the corners of her lips turn up; “Yes, Mistress.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

June 15, 2017 (Thursday)

Dear Ms. Diary,

This week was quiet, but Mom sent texts covering Sunday and Monday, both “Y,” and last night, which was “N.” I had actually hung out for a while in the living room on Tuesday night hoping to hear or see some action in my parents’ room, but it was not to be.

Mom informed me of a family meeting after dinner tomorrow night. Hmm, I wonder what the topic of discussion is. As if I did not know. I have thought about how to answer the question or to respond to the proposal; I am expecting the proposal to pass. Certainly, the conversations Mom has played for me suggest that the smart money is on a clothing-optional policy being put into effect.

In the interim, the team is going to thrash Midland today; game at 10:30.

---

I was right, but the thrashing we gave Midland was worse than I’d expected. We put the second offense and backup goalie on the field midway through the second half, and that offense even scored a goal. I had passed Rhee’s suggestion to Coach, and she had run with it. The passing practice - essentially, triangle passing with more understanding than we had had previously - was intense on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, after watching video of Barcelona for a couple hours on Saturday and a bit more on Monday. While our passing was not even close to Barça-esque, Midland did not know what to do against it. Rhee got four goals, I got my first-ever hat trick, and we kept the ball in their end of the field for most of the game and won 9-0. I sort of felt sorry for them. Now, we’ve got Friday off. Yippee.

While Rhee and I were walking back to my house after the team’s celebratory lunch at Granny Brown’s, I casually mentioned the upcoming family meeting tomorrow night.

“What are you guys going to be discussing,” Rhee asked.

I felt I should not tell her, so skirted the question with, “They haven’t told me, only that it was mandatory and right after dinner.”

“Hmm. Interesting.” Rhee’s face took on a thinking appearance, and then she came out with, “Hey! Maybe they’re going to discuss you and me getting your Dad to take our virginities! Wouldn’t that be great?!”

I turned crimson.

“Haha. You’re blushing. Is that it? No, I guess not. That would be wonderful, though.”

“Yeah, just the thought of that can sometimes get me going. It’s just so frustrating that the most interesting male in my life, and by a long shot, is my own Dad. The only person within hailing distance is Brett.”

“Not Bradley,” she asked in a faux breathless voice.

That was a preview of Beth - Book One. To read the rest purchase the book.

Add «Beth - Book One» to Cart