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Subject: Ginny, Chapter 2-5 (Ff, FFf, MFf, adult/youth friendship & romance)
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Ginny, Chapter 2-5 (Ff, FFf, MFf, adult/youth friendship & romance)
Chapter 2
by PlanetDweller
After that, Ginny and I would call each other at least once, usually
twice or more, a day. Mostly, it was just small talk, usual
mother/daughter or bestfriend/bestfriend talk. I still don't understand
how or why, but that's what Ginny had become, my best friend, and I hers.
Maybe it was simply mutual needs and wants. I don't know, and I still
don't care.
We saw each other about every third or fourth day, when her Dad wasn't
there, which wasn't very much, a pattern which would continue for a long
time. Two weeks later when my period started, she delighted in that much
to my surprise maybe and joy. She dove into my menstrual pool from the
ten-meter board for all she was worth, sucking and licking my clit and
cuntal lips, savoring my juices, sharing them with me with child-like
delight as she kissed me after eating me, frigging my pussy so well,
fisting me like a much more experience womyn-lover, squealing with
happiness when her smallish wrist would disappear deep inside me. That
night I also had her use my trusty ol' ten-inch
fake-symbol-of-masculine-repression-and-dominance but which I enjoyed using
anyway on myself, i.e. my trusty old three "C"-cell battery-powered
vibrator that a lover long gone had given me, which Ginny was fascinated
by
as she pumped me with it. I promised to get her a smaller one sometime.
About six months later, during one of our usual twice or three
times-weekly lovemaking sessions, she suddenly got serious on me, telling
me "Mom...Carol...my Dad told me to tell you that he wants you to come over
for dinner with us next time he's home, which will be tomorrow night...he
said tell you, if you don't say yes, that I can never see you
again...that...that...if you don't come over to meet him and eat supper
with us, you can't be my Mommy any more..." she then just breaking down and
boo-hooing a sad and deep crying jag. "Don't worry, Baby, I'll
go...everything will be fine, I promise", lying through my proverbial
teeth.
I was greeted at the door by a six-three mountain of man, rough-looking
but clean-shaven and smelling of clean and pleasant aftershave. "Hi, I'm
Richard, Melanie's, Ginny's, father..." he spake with polite tone, handing
me for some reason a single white rose...oh, I remembered...a white rose
symbolizing "friendship", i.e., a peace offering. "Hi, I'm Carol, Ginny's
new friend..." I replied, handing him a bottle of decent Bordeaux "...I
didn't know what we were having for dinner, so I brought a nice bottle of
red, that usually goes with most everything...is that okay?..." "We're
having meatloaf and boiled potatoes and vegetables, so sure, Carol, thank
you, that is fine".
I had only been in Ginny's house ever-so briefly a couple of times
before, just quick scoot-in's and scoot-outs, she being concerned about her
nice but nosey neighbors, whom her Dad had watch over her and be there to
help when he was gone on the road, which was usually twenty or twenty-five
days of a typical month. For a smallish, older home, Richard had furnished
it nice. Quality, but not overly expensive new furniture, along with a
smattering of antiques.
He being in the kitchen helping Gin' finish putting dinner together, I
studied the books in their bookcase. A new set of World Book
encyclopedias. Some books on car repair, including a Chilton manual for a
71' Camaro, one which happened to be sitting in their driveway, obviously
Richard's. Some books on sewing and crocheting and an entire shelf of
cookbooks, including one on Jewish cooking and one on Thai. Some old and
new fiction and some biographies, including one of John Kennedy, and in the
mix, to my somewhat surprise, several books of poetry, including "The Bell
Jar" by Sylvia Plath, which was nearly a bible to my college womyn's
studies-and-lesbian orgy-and- initiation group. Some old college textbook
versions of some classics, including the "Odyssey" and such. "Dinner's
ready, M-a-a..." she catching herself "I mean Carol...dinner's ready".
Trying to compliment Richard, I heavily complimented the meatloaf, which
was delicious. "Melanie made it...she's a great cook, isn't she?" "Yes, she
is". "I put on on ten pounds in two days when I home, don't I, Baby,
because of her great cooking...you know she's been cooking for herself ever
since she was six, when her Mom died..." "I know..." I replied as I looked
down at the table cloth, out of a sense of respect for her departed Mother.
Richard told me about his work, the fact that even though he was a high
school dropout he made more money than a lot of white-collar professionals,
an unintentional light slap at me I think but not impolite mention, and
that he had been in every US State and Canadian Province in North America.
I talked about my work, and as a reply almost, casually mentioned that at
age 24, I was already making in the low 30's plus benefits, let alone for
someone my age, though I had to work a lot of hours off-the-clock being on
salary instead of wages. His eyes focused and bulged. Then he switched
the subject to ancient history, of which he had a lot of self-taught
knowledge, and I very little. Then the subject switched to Ginny, she
sitting there quietly like a polite little girl letting the adults talk,
as
the meal wound down, I cleaning my plate of the delicious meatloaf and
potatoes and creamed corn and string beans and home-made biscuits, a meal
that reminded me so much of the home-cooking I grew up eating "down East".
"Let's go into the living room and talk...Ginny, clean up the table and
wash the dishes, please" he spoke as a parent. "Let me help, please..." I
asked. "NO, thank you, Carol...Ginny can do it, and we have a Kenmore
dishwasher that does all the work anyway...all she has to do is scrap them
cleam and put them in...let's go to the living room...can I get you
something to drink, a beer perhaps?" "That would be nice, thank you".
Sipping on the ice-cold Old Milwaukee skunkyshitbeer reminded me of my
college days again, the lesbian keggers our womyn's group used to hold off
campus which could only be described as every straight guy's ultimate
college coed fantasy scene. Feeling a bit nervous for some reason, I
quickly airshot the first down before Richard could even get comfortable
in
his chair, so he got up and brought us in a the rest of the six-pack, I
shooting another down quickly before he could speak, and then trying to
calm down and sip more than guzzle the next one. "Damn...." he quietly
exclaimed "...for an accoutant, you sure can put 'em away..." he attempted
a compliment. "I drink only very little now, but I used to drink a lot of
beer when I was at UNC..." "I believe you, Carol, I believe you..."
friendly laughter in his undertones, he pausing, taking a breath, taking
a
big swig from his own can of Old Can't-Walk-Straight.
"I'll get right to the point, Carol..." "Please do, Richard". "I know
what you are and who you are, and have known that you've been banging my
little girl since last March or early April...I won't cuss you too bad,
other than to say you really must be one sick piece of crap to seduce a
ten-year-old, but..." pregnant pause "...even if you are sick sonofabitch,
you've made my little girl very happy, and as long as you aint' into
animals or whips or really, really sick shit..." "I'm not, Richard, let me
assure you of that...and Ginny is the only womyn under eighteen I've ever
been with, I swear on my faith as a Christian, may I go to Hell if I'm
lying..."
"...yeah, right, okay, what the fuck ever...you've brought my little
Melanie back to life, back to me, for the first time since her Mom died,
and sicko pervert that you are, I'm forever in your debt...that said, these
will be the ground rules from now on, or I call the police right now, a
detective on Raleigh City force is a friend of mine, I'll call him at home
right now, if you don't agree, unner-stand, Carol?" "Yes, Richard, I
understand..."
"I want my Baby to have a childhood, so you are to encourage her to have
her own friends her own age and do things other little girls do, and if you
stay her friend for long, to date boys when that time comes, 'cause she
ain't no frigging bull-dyke, unndderstand?...." "...next, I know she calls
you Mommy, and that's okay with me, but you always remind her that her real
mommy will always love her..." "Sure, Richard". "Shut up and listen until
I'm through, Carol...next, while you can start coming over here as much as
you want, you can't spend the night here, ever, and I don't want her
spending more than two full nights a week with you at your place,
understand?...I want you to be a real Mommy to her, not just a sick
asslicking bitch after her cunny, so as long as you and she are friends and
whatever the hell else, you are to act like a real Mommy to her, take her
clothes shopping, take her to the movies with you, go to PTA meetings that
I can almost never attend with her because I'm almost never here, but...but
you will not ever let her see you kiss or worse any of your bull-dyke
friends, ever, anywhere or I'll call the cops if hear that you've done
so...in public, she can tell people that you're her Mommy and you can say
that she's your daughter, and you can hold hands like Mommy and daughter,
but none of this lips-kissing-shit in public like you did with the time you
dropped her off at school...understand?...and if she decides to not be your
friend any more, that's it, you never call her again or try to see her
again, or I swear I'll come beat you half to death with a tire
iron...understand?..."
I understood, but didn't like his tone, not one tiny little bit. I felt
like lashing out at him for his accusatory and nasty tone, felt like asking
him if he didn't want to see his daughter and her lover do a lesbian love
scene right in his living rooom, but...but, actually, everything he asked
or demanded from me, was reasonable, very reasonable. He didn't want to
raise the ire or eyebrows of his neighbors, he didn't want his precious
little girl to get taken away from him because of a scandal, and he
sincerely did want me to be there for her a new, substitute Mommy, because
that's what she needed. And he wanted her to grow up happy, healthy, and
normal, which meant straight to him which I understood and didn't mind, to
make her own decisions about her own life and sexuality when and where
appropriate. Swigging down the last third of my beer, I got up from my
chair to go pee, asking him where the powder room was, he pointing down the
hall past the open doorway between kitchen/dining room and living room,
stopped to kiss him squarely on the lips just to freak him out and take
back some control of the moment, with a "yes, Richard, I understand
completely, and accept your terms and conditions completely...you're a
great father, you remind me a lot of my own Dad in a lot of ways, you know
that?" I imparted as I scooted to do my toilet, my first kiss of a grown
man being somewhat more pleasant than I thought it might have been,
definitely taking the high ground back from Richard in our
semi-friendly-near-confrontation.
Coming back into the living room, Ginny was standing beside her Dad, and
practically leapt into my arms and lap as I sat down. "I'm so
glad...Carol...that you can be my Mommy now, and for always and
always....Daddy says everything's fine now..." "Yes, Baby, everything's
fine..." I cooed back at her, as Richard left for a moment, coming back
with both a nice 35mm camera and a Super 8mm movie camera. Gin' and I
posed for him in front of the bookcase as mothers and daughters are wont
to
do, putting our arms around each other, smiling at him as he took still and
moving pictures of us, giving each other big hugs, Richard smiling at
seeing his daughter so happy, I smiling because I was so happy to have
things out in the open. And to his word, he kept his word forever. I kept
my end of the non-bargain he presented then for the years that followed,
changing the ground rules only slightly when a situation called for it, and
he never made a single wave. In fact, as we spent more time together as
a
family...yes, a family, even going on some picnics and short trips to the
beach and mountains together, I came to respect and even admire the
dedication that Richard showed to Ginny, and admire him more and more as
a
person.
That night of understanding and conciliation also jogged some cobwebs
and ground-in drudge from my mind somehow. I realized that while I had
been doing my job at work okay, I really hadn't been putting the emphasis
on it I should have been, which is why my semi-annual evaluation had given
me only a "satisfactory" rating instead of my usual "superior" or at least
"excellent" one at least, and any recommendation for a raise was held off
until my next evaluation. Considering that I was going to be a so-called
career woman" and never hetero marry and have kids, my career was my kid
so
to speak, and I needed to quit being in such a perpetual fog about Ginny
like a love-sick school girl and get my focus back at work. Don't get me
wrong, the fault wasn't Gin's, it was mine, I was the adult in the
situation.
I also realized, yeah, stupid me, like I didn't know this, right, that
I
hadn't actually "dated" anyone since I had met Gin'. While I had gone to
the bars a few times, it was mainly to stay in contact with old friends and
ex-lovers who were friends, not to seek out any new lovers. Whether she
realized it or not, Ginny had me wrapped around her little finger for the
past six months, and that wasn't good, it wasn't good for me, and it wasn't
good for her, since while I hoped she and I would stay platonic friends at
least if she ever grew tired of me as a lover, I knew in my heart she was
basically straight and that she'd eventually marry a guy and in the
meantime would probably never actually live with me as a committed
lifepartner. She and I talked several times about this latter fact, I
feeling almost guilty for wanting to date again, but Ginny, being the
emotional adult equal to me, convinced me that she truly understood why I
needed to date other womyn and saw me more as her Mommy who she had special
fun with and no, she wouldn't be jealous at all if I dated other girls or
women. I told her I'd have many more lovers in my life if I was lucky, but
I'd only have one daughter. I could feel her smile through the phone when
I said that.
Three years later, my dating did lead to the one clear violation of my
understand with Richard, Ginny's father, that could have really ended up
with everything gone for me, yes, it could have lead to me losing Ginny and
Richard having me arrested.
A new gyrl showed one night at Fern's when I stopped in off work after
a
particularly hard day at work, Fern's the local lesbian and bi-womyn's and
M/F-couples-looking-for-same bar and veggie restaurant, and started
drinking straight shots of tequila. She looked like and was dressed like
a
Cosmo covergirl, a stunningly beautiful woman of perhaps 23 or 24, around
my age but a little younger. It being early yet on a weekday, none of the
usual gang of fellow pussyhounds was around, so I took my time and stalked
her like a lioness after another lioness.
Her name was Marie, and yes, she was an ex-New York and Paris runway
model and had even done a couple of magazine covers a couple of years back,
I knew I had seen that dollface somewhere before, and had made enough money
in a seven year career to where she could retire for the rest of her life
is she wanted to, though she planned to take selected, higher-paying jobs
as long as her looks held out. I handed her my business card, told her I'd
love to be her accountant, my firm would, and she said she already had an
accountant but she'd think about. I asked her why she was here in Fern's,
and she replied she was a Raleigh native originally, and had come back home
to help take care of her mother, who had become very ill. We started
talking about family and started trading shots, and that night, wound up
in
my bed.
I admit it, within a week, I was head-over-heels in love with Marie, and
I think, she, me. While I still called Gin', I only saw Ginny a handful
of
times over the next six or seven weeks that Marie and I were so hot and
heavy. Call me a blatant sexist if you will, some of the catty ones in the
gyrl's peanut gallery whom we all knew each other because we all went to
the same bars and most of us had slept with most of the rest of us did, but
I think they were just jealous my Marie, my perfect 5'6" 120 lb.s with
perfect wavy brunette hair and perfect breasts and perfect teeth and legs
and nails actual real-life fashion model package of gyrlfriend. During a
particularly hot session towards the eight-week anniversary of our
relationship, when I was spanking Marie over my knee with a ping-pong
paddle at her request, Marie asked me to start telling her my fantasies.
No lover had ever asked me to that before, at least not during loveplay.
I
really didn't have many fantasies, I had my fantasy girl naked in lap
having her cheeks reddened by the paddle before I was going to kiss them
and make them better, so I made up some nonsense to please her about doing
a ten-gyrl daisychain, which wasn't a fantasy, I had actually done a couple
of them and larger ones before.
That's when, between sucking gulps of air between paddle pops, she told
me of her fantasy of finding and seducing a really young girl, thirteen or
even younger. I hadn't told her about Ginny yet, I was waiting for the
right moment. But I was totally in love with Marie. We were planning on
me moving into her new house in nearby Cary, where her parents knew she was
a lesbian and lived in one wing of the house and she the other. So, being
weak, I spilled my guts to her about Ginny. I told her the whole story,
beginning to present. She threw me back on the bed and ate me with a
furiosity that only increased as I told her tales of Ginny and myself, of
Gin's and my lovemaking sessions over the past three years.
What happened next was inevitable. It was so predictable, it wasn't
funny. Out of being a true fool in love, I talked Ginny into joining us.
Marie had her fantasy fulfilled, many times over. Oh, God, how I loved
that woman. I loved my Ginny, but how I loved Marie. I honestly thought
she was "the one", the one I'd spend the rest of my life with and grow old
and grey together. Then, what a blind man could see was going to happen,
happened. The third or fourth time we three were together, Marie asked
Ginny and me if she could have some time alone with Ginny. I didn't see
a
problem with it, I wasn't jealous. I left them alone, went to do some
shopping and see a movie, to give them three or four hours alone. When I
came back, Marie asked me if she could see Ginny alone sometime, take her
to her place, that she had asked Ginny and Ginny didn't mind. I said
absolutely, 100% positively, "NO". Huge fight. HUGE fucking fight.
Screaming. Throwing things. I wasn't jealous at all, don't get me wrong,
I just didn't want Richard to find out, and make Ginny and I split up and
maybe have me arrested for multiple statutory rapes of Ginny. Leaving, the
bitch Marie even keyed my fucking car, in typical lesbian "fuck you,
whore!!!" leaving-for-good fashion. I had forgotten I had told her Ginny's
last name, so she somehow found Ginny's home phone number, and began
calling her, which scared Ginny, she telling Marie to leave her alone.
But loose lips can be handy. Marie had been moving bits of her assets
over my firm to take care of, and I knew from seeing things that she had
set up offshore tax shelters which were blatantly illegal and she could
probably end up losing those assets and maybe even going to jail for. I
had to end up threatening to turn her in, several times, before she got the
message and left Ginny and me alone, but not before my tires were
mysteriously slashed, my gas tank mysteriously sugared, and my windshield
mysteriously bricked one night. Bitch. I needed a new car, anyway. Next
week, I had a used but good condition two seater Fiat ragtop in my
driveway. Time for a better car, anyway. Thank my Lord Jesus Christ it
ended as quick as it did, that Marie got the point of jail and financial
ruin as quick as she did, or I know Richard would have found out if things
went on much longer. Never again, I vowed, would I tell anyone about Ginny
under any circumstances, not at least until she turned 18 and no one would
care, if Ginny and I were still together then, which I prayed to my God
every night would happen, that we'd be mother and daughter forever.
When Gin' was fourteen, she started hanging out with, not really dating,
a boy who was in a kid's garage band. He lived just a few houses down from
her, they knew each other from growing up as neighbors, and liked each
other as friends. Bobby got her to try out for the lead singer's position
in the band, but Ginny, never having sung in the choir at her own church
or
at Temple Baptist which she now attended most Sunday's with me as my
"charge", and sweet thing she is, didn't have much talent for, wasn't good
at. So, Bobby showed her some chords on his guitar, and it turned out she
quickly became a better player than he was. The other boys in this garage
band didn't like having Ginny as a member, except for the fact she was that
good. When I'd sit sometimes as I'd drop by to spend some time with her,
being her Mom, and not just her lover, they'd let me sit in and play the
tambourine or maracas or something. Bobby would always loan her guitar
when they played, but she really needed her own. I wrote sealed letter to
Richard and had Ginny give it to him next time he came home for a couple
of
days, about her 15th birthday was coming up, and a few days later, he
called me from somewhere on the road, telling me that "sure, it's okay, and
that's a very nice gesture on your part, I have no problem with it, thank
you for being a good Mom to my little girl", and offered to help chip in,
I
telling him it wasn't necessary, that I really wanted to this.
I made Ginny a cake for her 15th birthday, though I knew she could bake
a better one herself, but I was her Mom. Picking her up from Broughton
High School, she knew she was getting a birthday present from me, but
seemed a little, well, a lot disappointed when all I handed her was a card
as she squeezed into my Fiat convertible. A card with a simple pink bow
hand-tied around it. She kissed me on the cheek with a cheerful "thanks,
Mom, I love you..." but with a look of quiet "oh, well" on her face.
Inside the Hallmark card was another, smaller, plain piece of
ivory-colored handmade paper bought from The Paper Plant on Hargett St.,
with the words I had scribbled "Happy Birthday, Ginny, My Baby...this card
good for one shopping trip to Harry's Guitar Shop... budget
$1,000...enjoy!....Love, Mom". She literally squealed with delight and
kissed me full on the lips in front of the minions of her classmates who
were boarding school buses and climbing into their parent's cars to go
home. I didn't care. No one knew. We were just Mother and Daughter, and
don't mothers and daughters kiss each other on the lips sometimes, even in
public?
She picked out a Fender Strat-o-Caster, I think that's what she called
it, a used but decent case for it, plus a Carver or Carvin amp, and some
cables and picks and music books and such. It came to over $1,200, two
hundred plus over her budget, but I didn't care. I had the money, and she
was my little girl. The amp wouldn't fit in the excuse for a trunk of my
Fiat, so I called a cab, gave him a ten, told him where Gin's house was,
and to follow us home, stuffing the amp in his trunk, she not wanting lose
possession of her new used guitar, not even from two feet in what passed
for a backseat in my Fiat, case nudging my neck to one side as we drove
home. Home. Good God, how I often wished Richard would just let me move
in and be a pretend girlfriend to him and step-mom to Gin', but in the
couple of times I had gently broached the subject with him, he had been
adamantly against it, unless I would totally agree never to see any other
womyn, which he and I both knew I never could or would, as much as I was
in
love and loved my Ginny.
Fifteen minutes later, she had the works plugged in, and was cranking
renditions of "Stairway To Heaven" and "Badge" and "Funk 49". "I wished
there was a future in rock and roll for women..." I thought to myself
"...Ginny would have a future in it, if only reality were so". I brought
her cake out to her, which I had in a cooler in the suitcase of a trunk of
the Fiat, lit her candles, she stopping only long enough to blow them out,
not wanting to quit playing even long enough to eat a bite from the Duncan
Hines cake mix-cake I had somehow baked without disaster. She didn't want
to touch her take-out pizza, either, when it was brought, she just wanted
to keep playing. She finally did eat some cake and pizza when one of the
old strings broke, and she had to put on a new set of strings she had just
bought with the other stuff so they'd all match.
Five hours passed. I watched TV with no volume, happy that my Ginny was
happy, listening to her repertoire, hearing "Stairway" from the screeching
amp for the twenty-third time. I had my flannel nightie on, having brought
that and a change of work clothes for tomorrow. I nudged her to come to
bed. I was bored, and horny. She was my Baby. I wanted her. I always
wanted her. Crawling under the covers of her/our bed as my Baby-made music
twanged on in the living room, I feel asleep, bored, a little lonely maybe
even, but happy that my Gin' was happy. A couple of hours later, the lack
of noise made me wake up. Ginny scooted beside me, and kissed me firm on
the lips as I pretended sleep. I didn't rouse or even breath deeper. She
knew I was faking. Her fingers found my cunt, her face between the opening
in my still-clad nightie, we usually sleeping nude when together, sucking
and biting on a nipple. That brought a smile to me. We kissed and
smooched as she brought to an unhurried orgasm with her hand. "Thanks,
Mom..." she whispered to me through a deep kiss "...you really don't know
how much I love you". "Yes..." my voice slipped back "...yes, I do...I
know you love me as much as I love you, Ginny, my daughter".
A three or four months later, she called me at from school, and asked
me
not to pick her up for our "date", our planned night together that night
at
my place, but to come to her house for dinner and spend the night. "But
your father, you know how he feels about that". "I told him, and he said
it
was okay, for tonight, this time, Mom...be over at seven, okay?"
I smelled steak and vegetables when I walked in her house, she calling
to me from the kitchen. Close. It was Chateuu Briand in the oven, one of
my favorites. She ran to kiss me, and I hugged her close and kissed her
back hard. My God, how I love her. My hands playfully grabbed her butt,
but she equally playfully pushed them away, with a "now, Mom, dinner, food,
first!" and happy smile.
We fed each other bites of the beef tenderloin as we often did, as
lovers are supposed to do. Finishing the last of the salad and filet
mignon and ending the perfect meal with her special Key Lime pie, she
gently took my hands, and lead me to the living room, sitting me down in
her Dad's easychair, going over the formerly more or less vacant corner of
the living room she had claimed as her music area. Fishing something from
a pile of papers, she walked back over to me and handed me a piece of
hand-written sheet music, giving me a daughterly, not lover-ly, kiss.
"Happy early birthday, or whatever, Mom...I love...I LOVE YOU".
Going back ten feet away from me to sit on a short stool and take her
guitar in hand, she started playing the song she had written for me, "Love
Unspoken, Heart Unseen".
...Sometimes love can be hard ...because life usually is ...Sometimes
life darkens our hearts ...but love always brightens the gloom away
..Sometimes distance tears lovers apart ...but love always brings them
back together
...You are the moonlight guiding my ship ...back home, always back home
to you
...You are my Mother Moon, healing me ...from the ravages of Father Sun
..You are my Mother Moon, bringing my heart ...always home to you
Tears filled my eyes with joy. Love for my Ginny filled my heart with
happiness even more. Bawling like an infant, Ginny rushed to me, asking
me
what was wrong, if I thought the song stunk that bad. "Oh, no, Baby, I just
had never heard anything that beautiful..." tears of choking filling my
words as I clutched the songsheet she had written for me in my hand "...oh,
Ginny, my Ginny...I LOVE YOU, so much...I love you..." "I love you, too,
Mom..." she cooed back as she held me close "...let's go to bed".
The next few months, our relationship was closer than it had ever been,
or was to be again. I would have given anything, anything, for us to live
together as wife-and-wife, but she still was too young, and the promise of
Richard's threat always hung over the boundaries of our relationship. I
encouraged her to start dating, and finally she did go out on some dates,
but I could tell her heart wasn't in them.
As her sixteenth birthday approach, Richard and I worked together to
work out the financing of a car for her. We were ready to almost buy a
used Buick four-door for her, when a Toyota dealership had a blow-out sale
one weekend when Richard just happened to home, so between the two of us
we
were able to get her a new Celica two-door hardtop instead of something
used.
On her birthday, Richard had arranged to be home for that day, off the
road, and we took her ostensibly out to eat at Sam's Steakhouse from school
for her birthday, but she knew better. On the way there, as I sat in the
backseat of Richard's new used Mustang, they in the front, I mentioned
about needing to get my dry cleaning first from over near Crabtree. When
we pulled into Anderson Toyota, she saw a new car with big ribbon tied
around it in the parking lot, and knew it was hers, jumping up and down.
Her Dad made it very clear that, if she wanted it, she was old enough to
where she'd have to get a part-time job to pay for her own insurance and
gas and repairs and such. When we got out of the car to look at it, she
made us stand next to each other, so she could give us both a family-hug
together. "Thanks, Mom...Thanks, Dad.." she said over and over again. "Take
off school Friday..." Richard said "...so you can go get your license, and
Mom, I mean Carol, will call my insurance company Monday and have you put
on my insurance so you can start driving it Tuesday..." "Thanks, Dad...and
THANKS, Mom" she cried again, as she hugged and kissed me again and again.
Dinner at Sam's was happy, but muted. It was her sixteenth birthday,
and she and I couldn't be together that night, because her Dad was home.
They droppe me off at my place later, and I dove under the covers of my
lonely bed, no Ginny anywhere near me to hold and be close to, and cried
myself to sleep.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++
When Gin' decided to lose her virginity at age sixteen to her highschool
sweetheart, I got her "Our Bodies, Ourselves", and made an appointment for
her with my gynecologist for her first pelvic which she needed anyway and
to get some birth control pills. I told Dr. Brown that she was my niece,
the daughter of my sister (which I never had) who died years ago and whom
I
was acting as guardian for, my/our usual cover story. He never questioned
it, as never did any teacher or anyone else ever in authority when she or
I
would tell them usually that I was her step-mom, the difference in our ages
being obviously closer to ten than to twenty or more. Dr. Brown didn't
mind me being in the exam room with her as he probed and poked her in his
AMA-approved ritual. I got him to save me the plastic speculum he used on
her, of which later I showed her how to exam her own cervix like our old
college womyn's group used to do with that and a hand-mirror.
The night she lost her virginity, a few months or so later, she drove
her new Celica over to my place. With the freedom of her new car that her
Dad and I bought for her sixteenth birthday, came a new sense of
independence and womynhood-liness that I hadn't expected. She had moved
more and more of her stuff into my place, and finally, we were almost
living together as committed lovers, though she always went home when her
Dad came back on his days off.
The night she lost her virginity, she came home with a total grin on her
face that you couldn't have wiped off with a sledgehammer. She kissed me
deeply as we made out like two schoolgirls on the couch, as she told me
about how she let her boyfriend of some months finally "seduce" her. On
and on and on about his cock inside her, even though my fingers and tongue
had been in the same place hundreds if not thousand of times since she was
ten. On and on about how he had eaten her to get her wet before
penetrating, though I had the same except better literally thousands of
times to her. On and on about how he got back hard immediately after
coming inside her, so she had given him a blowjob to completion. Yuck.
I
thought that's what I was tasting inside her mouth. His come, stale.
Yuck. On and on and on. I knew right then that, zero doubt, that despite
all our years together, she was straight.
Oh, sure, she enjoyed being a lover to me, the sex between us was if
anything more incredible than ever in the past, and she really loved me for
being her "Mom", but alas, I'm enough of a lesbian and a realist to
recognize when another woman is straight, and in my heart of hearts, I
always knew that my Ginny was straight.
Fucking her boyfriend Joseph earlier, losing her hetero virginity to
him, really had her both horny and wound up tighter than a drum. I was
hurt by her continued gushing over him, though it wasn't unexpected. I
tried my best not to show my jealousy and pain. She sensed it a little,
but was too horny and wanted to jump these old bones of mine to care. Call
me human. Call me a jerk. As much as I loved her, call me a cab if you
will. I just wanted her to leave and go back to her place, but she wanted
to fuck, and fuck badly. I told her I had a new game I us to try.
Removing some sash ropes from my living room window drapery treatment, I
tied her up, arms behind her back, as she kneeled naked on our bed.
Finding the old beach paddleball set I had bought when she and her
father and I had gone to the beach for a weekend trip together as a family,
I took one of the paddles out as a playtoy. Her ass wantonly exposed and
helpless to me, I began an unmercifully beating of her asscheeks, hard,
taking out my frustrations and hurts upon her ass and exposed pussy. She
cried for me to stop as she thrashed around tied up on the bed, but I just
continually cooed back to her how much I truly loved her, because I did,
enough to be really hurt by her fucking a guy and actually enjoying it.
I did stop, eventually, only to hardfuck both her pussy and ass with our
"friend", a strap-on dildo we both used on each other at times for variety,
my assfuck of her being her first. If Joseph could take her hetero cunt
virginity, then by God, I'd make sure I took her last one. Thing was, as
rough as I was with her, she thought, I think, it was done from passion and
lust, not anger. We fucked through most of the night. I let her tie me
up
and paddle me just to keep things "even", something she found out that she
really didn't like to do or enjoyed, that being our first time playing
tie-up games together. Our furious and intense love-and-anger-making went
on until five a.m. the next morning. She ended up being late for school
and I for work.
She didn't call me and I didn't call her for a week. We both knew why,
though, actually, we didn't know why. We did, but we didn't want to say
why. When she called, she asked if she could come over and pick some of
her stuff up, which had grown to be quite an accumulation, more than half
of her clothes and such hanging in my closets. I thought she was going to
break up with me, having discovered her "straightness", but thankfully,
that wasn't the case. She ended up spending the night, but our lovemaking
was easy, quiet, happy, placid, and whole bunch of other adjectives that
translate into more or less "boring".
Well, that's not entirely fair to say it like that. We had spent six
years being lovers, and while I had taught her everything in the beginning,
she was becoming more and more her own person, as is such as life. I was
genuinely happy she was becoming more her own womyn. She was still "my"
Ginny, my daughter, my little girl. But she was growing up. Our
lovemaking was becoming increasingly more oral-oriented, with less intense
hand-frigging, less "toys", and much to my sadness, less and less intense
kissing and making out, something I'd almost rather do than anything else
with a woman I love. Our kisses were still lips-to-lips, but fewer and
fewer tongue-wrestling-matches took place.
Her times with me went from two and three or more times and nights per
week together, down to just a couple or even one per week, as she began
dating more and more boyfriends. Sigh.
By the time her high school graduation rolled around, we had settled
into a routine of a phone call every day, if just to say "hi", I was still
her Mom in her eyes and heart after all, but our nights together had become
our weekly night together, usually a Tuesday or Wednesday night, so as not
to interfere with her busy weekends with her boyfriends. Almost out of
self-defence and out of growing loneliness for sure, I threw myself back
into the fern-and-smoked-glass local lesbian and gay bar scene, which now
consisted over ten bars where fellow travelers could be found, though truth
be known, while there were some new faces from time to time, it was still
the same bunch of raggedly old haggardly cunts.
For her graduation present, Richard, her Dad, and I all went on a trip
up and down the East Coast, Richard and I having arranged our vacation
schedules to allow us to do this for her. Ginny for some reason had always
wanted to see Maine, so with no schedule set, we just started driving north
from Raleigh to Maine in a rented Lincoln, a busman's holiday for Richard
if there ever was one, but he didn't mind. We stopped off and played
tourist what we could time allowing, in D.C. and Philly and New York City
and such, stopping for a day or two here and there as the mood suited us.
It was a nice trip. At night, we'd all sleep in different hotel rooms,
though it cost more to do it that way, but I didn't push it with Richard.
Ginny really wanted her privacy, too. We didn't sleep together, make love,
even for a five-minute quickie, that whole two weeks, not that I missed it
that much. I just missed her, my Ginny, that much.
We drove around Maine for three or four days, mainly seeing the
coastline, making Ginny happy, drove over to Montreal and back in a couple
of days, then dropped the rental Lincoln off in Portland and flew back home
from there, the first airline flight for Ginny and Richard, though Richard
had more miles on his butt from his trucking job than most airliner
captains.
Ginny, Chapter 3, by PlanetDweller
Ginny Chapter 3 by PlanetDweller (Ff, menstrual sex, MFf, adult/youth
romance)
She didn't want to try to go State or another college, hadn't been
preparing for it at all as her father and I both knew, and wouldn't hear
of
even trying. She just wanted to get a job and get her own place and as she
would say "live life". Richard and I both told her to hold on to her youth
and carefree days as long as she could, that life would envelope her fast
enough without her seeking it out.
Out of being nagged to death, and my little Ginny can be quite stubborn
and a nagger when she wants to be, growing up adult will do that to you,
she persuaded her father to put in a good word for her at his work, the
Winn-Dixie warehouse up on S. Wilmington Street near where they lived, and
she was hired into a trainee spot in the shipping department, checking the
shipments of grocerys and dry goods as they came off of the literal miles
of train cars each day.
She started nagging me and Richard for a small loan to go ahead and get
her own place. Her Dad wouldn't do it, encouraging her to live at home and
save some money since she had free run of their place anyway three or more
weeks out of the month, but she was adamant. Using that desire as
leverage, I told I'd loan her the money, but only if she agreed to start
taking night classes at Wake Tech and begin working her way towards an
Associate's degree in business or accounting or similar. She could have
saved up enough money by staying home just another three or four months,
but she wanted out right then, so she took the loan, after showing me she
had enrolled in three night classes for next quarter that were part of the
AA in business curriculum. I was her Mom after all, you expected me not
to
act like one?
She then moved into a vacant rental house just four houses down from her
dad's, a nice small one but one showing it's age somewhat, and immediately
took in two other girls her age as roommates, the small cottage having two
other small bedrooms besides the one decently large one, which she kept for
herself. Richard and I gave her some older furniture and curtains and
dishes and pots and pans and old silverware and throwrugs and towels and
sheets and table lamps and such from our respective places to help fill her
new-to-her vacant first place of her own, and took turns co-signing for her
to help her get her lights and phone and cable turned on.
In the meanwhile, I had been made a V.P. over at M&P, the last step
before becoming a full partner, becoming a full partner requiring a $40,000
cash buy-in upfront, which I knew I could get them to advance me if needed
because of the change in attitudes and lattitudes about women in the
workplace, that, and my client list was now almost a full one-fourth of
total billings. Of course, truth be known just to you and me, being single
and having no kids not counting my Ginny and having basically no vices, no
expensive ones at least, I had almost $40,000 in CD's saved up and stashed
back, plus another $10,000 or so in a loaded Lipper growth fund. Living
cheap and eating cheap and driving cheap lets you do that, that's what I
tell all my clients, because I live it. It's called thrift.
My love life, my love life outside of Ginny, was looking up. An old
ex-lover had arranged a blind date with a friend of a friend of hers who
was moving here to work at a firm out in RTP, a lovely and smart attorney
a
little older than me named Janice, and if it wasn't love at first, it was
love not much later after.
I immediately told her the whole story, the whole truth about Ginny's
and my relationship, and while shocked at first, it didn't freak her out.
I
told her that as long as Ginny wanted me in her life, I was going to be
there for her, and she said, and I think meant it when she said it, that
she understood and accepted it. She made it very clear that whatever Ginny
and I did as lovers, she considered Ginny to be my daughter, and not her
competition.
And, at least, she didn't even think about let alone ask wanting Ginny
to join us sometime, thank the Lord. Ginny was a grown woman of eighteen
now with her own place and wasn't a target for pedophiles like me, like I
had accidentally become that one time many years ago. I could tell that
like me, Janice was an experienced and oft-loved lover, and our lovemaking
reflected that, she also having come out of the radical
feminist-excuse-to-seduce-womyn college movement when she was in law
school. Her experiences in college lead her not just into and out of
radical feminism, which she like I now considered to be a farce created by
womyn-hating men, but also into and out swinging with M/F couples, which
she did a lot before getting tired of sorting through the phonies to find
the nice ones. We talked a lot about her swinging experiences, and she was
equally fascinated by my "find, feed, and fuck 'em" straight as well as gay
womyn deflowering campaign and stage I went through when I was younger and
saw doing so a political more than sexual statement, and all the
womyn-oriented group sex I had back then.
One day at work, Ginny called me, something she seldom did any more, and
I asked if everything was all right. She replied "sure, Mom, I just had
a
phone call, great news!, and I wanted to share it with you immediately".
She had told me last week during our usual Wednesday night "date" that she
had auditioned for a job with The Band Of Oz, a local Carolina Beach
Music-style and 60's white soul cover band, but felt they hadn't taken her
seriously, stopping her after just three songs. But Dave Peterson, the
lead singer and more or less leader of the group, had just called her and
told her she had the job, of second rhythm guitar player, and now could
claim to be the only girl ever hired as a musician for the band. "My first
gig with them is tonight at Red's...I know you got a membership
there...will you come, Mom?" "Like I'd miss it for the world?" I happily
sighed back. I couldn't have been prouder of my Baby up on the stage that
night cranking out undertracks to "Up On The Boardwalk" and "I Love Beach
Music" and "Smoke Gets In Your Eyes" than if she would have been my own
flesh-and-blood. I got hit on by three different guys that night, they
pestering me when I just wanted to drink beer and listen to my Ginny play
her little heart out at her first paying gig in peace, blowing them off by
telling that I was a lesbian and wasn't interested, a standard blow-off
line for a lot of women in bars but this time one which happened to be the
truth. The next morning, I called a lawyer who I had recruited for our
firm as a client, wanting a favor from him.
"Bill, I'd like to adopt my daughter" I began the conversation. He
didn't hear me quite right. "Well, Carol, you're a single woman, there's
very few adoptable infants out there, there's a prejudice against
non-two-parent households wanting to adopt...we might could find you a
special needs or older child, but it'd still be a next-to-impossibility for
you..." "Bill...friend...shut up for a second, and listen...I said I wanted
to adopt my daughter, not someone else's...", then dead silence for a
moment. "Carol, if she's already your daughter, why would you want to adopt
her?...that makes no sense..." "Because she's not my child by birth or
marriage...I simply have been acting as her 'guardian at litem' since she
was ten, with the consent of her father...her mother died when she was five
or six, and she and I became friends when she was ten, and she's been
calling me Mom ever since, I've been acting as her Mom ever since, almost
nine years now..." "There's nothing kinky going on here, is there, Carol?"
"Oh, for Pete's sake, Bill, you used to go to my church when you first came
to town yourself...you remember her, don't you...little girl, long hair in
ponytails, she was known in church as my sister's kid..." "Oh...you mean
Ginny?" "Uh-hu". "What does her father say about this, and what does she
say about this...and how old is she, you say she's nineteen?" "Eighteen,
almost nineteen". "Since she's eighteen, she's legally emancipated now
anyway, the only way we could make it fly it to have all of you petition
a
judge together in a motion for adoption, you'd all have to go to court and
state why you wanted it done". "I really want this to happen...could you
fax me over some case law on it, and if I can arrange things on my end,
will you push it for me?" "Sure, but it'll cost you $5,000 plus office fees
and court costs, and will take at least six months to schedule in". "Done".
I left a message with Ginny to have Richard call me. He called me back
a couple of days later, saying he was off the road for a couple of days.
I
told him I wanted to talk to him, but not over the phone. A few hours
later, he greeted me, Old Milwaukee in hand, in a dirty undershirt and torn
shorts and sneakers, three days growth of beardstubble showing and smelling
of needing a shower. I drank a beer with him as we watched the local news.
Then I dropped my request on him about adopting Ginny. He got quiet, very
very quiet. I thought he might be getting to explode in anger, but he just
took a last swig out his beer, then said "no...no...end of story...next
question". "Can I have another beer?" "Sure...Mommy..." he laughed as he
went to fetch us fresh ones. He was being cruel without really meaning to,
I think "...you know you're damned attractive for an older dyke with no
tits and too short legs, you know that, don't you, Carol?" "And you're not
so bad yourself for slightly overweight, balding, yellow-teethed,
undereducated and over-opinionated walking dick supportive attachment,
either, Richard." "You want me, dontcha?" "No, not right at this
moment...maybe after we finish splitting the case, maybe we'll see then,
when you start looking like you have a real pussy instead of just the
absence of external genitalia." We both laughed at that one.
Gin's 19th birthday came and went. She said she really didn't want
anything special this year from either her Dad or me. She was lying. I
gave her a new color TV, and her Dad gave her a better set of speakers for
her stereo, she being a musician now that actually got paid for working
part-time at it and accumulating musical things and tapes and records and
such. I got her to go with me to my stylist. I knew she hadn't been to
a
beauty shop since leaving home, and her hair was now to her waist, which
I
knew she didn't like it that long. We went out to eat after getting it
trimmed to a more manageable shoulder-length, and ended up having pleasant
unscheduled, non-Wednesday night lovemaking session together. All she
wanted to talk about afterwards, after sharing our comfortable lesbianism
with each other, was her boyfriends, was men. I told I wasn't interested
in having a sex change operation to become one, as much as I loved her.
She punched me playfully in the ribs, then went to sleep in my arms.
A few weeks later, the phone range at 4 a.m. on a Tuesday night. "Mrs.
Black?..." "Uh...uh, Miss Black...who wants to know, please?" "Deputy
Bernado, Wake County Sherrif's Department..." "Uh...is something wrong, why
are you calling me this late?" "Miss Black, we have your step-daughter,
Ginny Moore, in custody, and we need you to come down to the Wake County
Courthouse and see the magistrate and bail her out if you can".
"Uhhhh...what's she done?" "She was caught driving around midnight leaving
Kelly's Bar on Wake Forest Road at a checkpoint with a .15 blood-alcohol
level...in one way, be thankful, Miss Black, because in less than a week,
the drinking age is going back up to 21, and if it was then and not now,
she'd have been charged with a misdemeanor...right now, all it is is a
DWI..." "Uh, thanks, officer...I'll be right down."
She looked scared in the holding cell surrounded by real criminals,
frightened to death, shaking. The magistrate wouldn't take a check, so I
had to go across the street to a 24-hour bondsman who would and spend $50
non-refundable to get the $500 release bond. She expected me to go into
full Mom-mode as the jailer let her out, but I didn't. "Thanks for bailing
me out, Mom". "You're welcome, daughter". "You won't tell Dad, will you?"
"Not unless he finds out from someone else and asks me about it, no, I
won't tell...you're a grown woman now and have to learn to face the
consequences of your own actions...and you will pay me back in full the $50
for the bond to get you out..." "I will Mom, I will, I'll pay you when I
get paid this week, promise". "...and don't worry, I'm not going to try
punish you myself, the astronomical hike in your insurance rates will be
punishment enough, if they don't make you to assigned risk anyway, being
caught drunk at age nineteen..." "Oh, shit, that's right..." she said, then
puked in her lap and on her seat and floorboards. "...and you can also
clean that up, when we get home..." "...can I sleep with you tonight, Mom?"
"Sure...but not before cleaning this mess up, I've got to drive it to work
in the morning...where's your car?..." "In the service impound..." "I'll
try to get out for you tomorrow, but you'll owe me for that, too".
At home, she slept gently in my arms, nursing on my left nipple like a
baby, her finger gently diddling my clit, her breath stinking of beer and
puke. God, how I wanted still to adopt her. We showered together after
the alarm, washing the puke off her pants in the machine so she could wear
them to work again and save a trip back to her place. In the shower, she
dropped to her knees and gently anally probed and massaged me as she licked
my clit from the front. How perfect a daughter and lover she was. I had
to make her stop or we'd have never left the shower let alone make it to
work. The towing and impound fee later that day came to almost two hundred
dollars. Lesson learned.
I met Janice at lunch at her employer's cafeteria in "the Park". Since
all Fortune 500 companies in RTP were so scattered out among the thousands
of acres and since almost no restaurants were nearby, all of RTP's resident
giants had lunch cafeterias built-in as part of their buildings.
"I just closed on my house last Friday..." she commented, our last date
together being the night before "...and I just can't wait to get out of
that dumpy apartment I'm in, not unlike yours..." dead silence, then I
smiled at her, silent still "...oh, I'm sorry, Dear, but you know, you make
more money than I do, and you still live, well..." "I live thriftly,
Janice...thriftily..." "I'm sorry, Carol...it's just that I know you can
afford to buy your own house...and guess what...and this is my
luck...actually, it can become your luck...I paid almost $135,000 for my
house in Brentwood last week, and this morning, I saw a "For Sale By Owner"
go up on one just five houses down from me, for just $85,000...it's
smaller, and has a smaller yard, but I think it's a steal...here's the
number of the owner, give them a call, it's at 1019 Browning Place...I'd
just love to have you as my neighbor, Carol..." she sweetly and sincerely
intoned.
Three months later, I was the proud owner of my first house. Real
estate like that in North Raleigh was escalating at rates higher than 25%,
when I was only getting 14% on my CD's. So a lot of those suckers were
cashed in, and I paid more than half down meaning a mortgage of only $375
a
month, and still had close to $10,000 in liquidity, not counting my 2%
annual fee loaded Lipper growth fund.
Ginny was excited for me when I told her the news as we spent our last
night together in my true dump of my apartment, if it had been my home for
so many years. The neighborhood decaying, crack was just starting to show
its ugly head from the poorer neighborhoods around me, more break-ins and
mugging were taking place than ever before, it was time to leave, time to
move on with my life. She said she wanted to break our, our new home, her
word not mine, in properly. For a moment, I thought my hope of hopes, my
prayer of prayers was being answered. Was she actually proposing we live
together as wife-and-wife? God gave me a quick answer through her. Nope.
She just wanted to cook for me and have a night of wild, abandoned sex with
me. Sounded like a plan to me.
The poached salmon with shallots she had preliminarily prepared at home
and brought to work to bring to my house and finish cooking was delicious.
Even her roommates, whom I had briefly talked with the few times I had
dropped in at her place, told me they had all gained several pounds each,
the result of her love of cooking. And the French Silk pie. We laughed
and giggled like school girls, with an intimacy and comfort level neither
of us had felt for some time for some reason or reasons, as we daubed the
chocolate filling on each other's faces and licked each other clean.
God also had a sense of humor, and of fairness, that night. For the
first time ever in our nine years together, we both had started our periods
at the same time, the day before. We body-painted each other with our
womynly essences in the shower, before licking the patterns off with
exaggerated and erotic tongue actions. Our relationship had begun all
those years ago with menstrual sex, and we always enjoyed and played
through when either of us was dripping, but until then, we had never
synched, and knew the night was special.
Kid like, we played "mad bomber". I lay in the bed and she stood up
over me, her legs astride my head, drops of her fluid leaking down on me,
trying to hit the "target", my open mouth. Then I did her similarly, we
laughing with delight all the while. She won that competition, ten hits
to
seven. We intertwined our legs together and humped our cunts and clits
close, as we liked to do. The fact that I could feel her menstrual fluid
and she mine leak all over us made us that much hotter. She began kissing
me deeply, hard, passionately, more so than she had done in months or
longer. My Ginny was back. I fucked her pussy with our trusty strap-on,
then bare-backed her asshole with it, using her blood as lubrication, then
she mine. My Ginny was mine, my Ginny was indeed back.
Our weekly nights together increased back to two or three per week,
which was almost too many for me right then, since I was also heavily
dating Janice who now lived just five yards down, we alternating whose
place we ended up sleeping together at after dates, but Janice understood
and didn't raise a stink. Just as soon as Ginny's new passion for me rose,
it also fell, fell back to our usual once-a-weeker Wednesday night
together. "I've got another serious boyfriend, Mom, that's all". Sigh.
But what can a mother say?
Another few months later, Ginny showed up at my place, as I was mowing
grass and doing yardwork on a Saturday morning. She was wearing a white
wedding dress. She was also wearing a cheap chip of an engagement ring and
was wearing an excuse of a man wearing a cheap ill-fitting ratty suit,
something which looked like she had found at a homeless shelter and brought
home to feed some of her great homecooking to out of pity. "Mom...this is
Ray...he's...don't be mad at me, Mom...he's my husband...and Mom, I'm
pregnant." I kissed and hugged her, and tried to air-kiss him, he smelling
like the grease pit of a bad garage, but he planted me one right on the
lips anyway. "Good to meet you, Mrs. Black, I'll make your daughter very
happy...I know I'll have to, or she Ginny you'll turn me into the IRS,
hahahahaha." Sigh. Just in my mid-30's, and already a grandmother. Sigh.
The marriage last an entire month. I didn't think it would have lasted
that long. She came home from work early one day, and caught her excuse
for an unhusband in bed with a crack whore, fucking and smoking crack. She
ran him out into the street only half-kiddingly chasing him with a butcher
knife, and he never came back to even get his clothes or pay for the
long-distance bills he ran up, for some unknown reason. She asked me to
take her to the Raleigh Women's Clinic the following Monday. One baby
gone, but one baby, my Baby, was still with me. At least she hadn't kicked
her roommates out of her house as the creep has asked to do, so they could
have their "honeymoon privacy", so she wasn't stuck that way.
After Ray and the abortion, she didn't see me for an entire two months
or longer, and quit calling me every day for a while, only calling every
third or fourth day or so. She even talked about quitting her gig with The
Band Of Oz, but thankfully I persuaded her not to, knowing how much her
music meant to her. I called Bill about her filing for divorce from the
creep, and he said he'd take care of things and send me the bill later,
just have her call him. He asked about "the adoption", and I told him her
father had vetoed it, end of that story.
I finally showed up unannounced at her place, and wanted to took her out
for a drinking binge, get it out of her system. I told her let's go out
"hunting". "But, Mom...you like women, and I like guys!" "So, let's go out
and pick up some guys" I replied. "You're not serious". "Yes...yes, I
am...I'm not saying I'll fuck 'em, I just want to help you find them, at
least one of them...you gotta get out of this funk, girl, gyrlfriend,
Ginny, my daughter..." She hugged me and we laughed together, the first
time she had laughed in weeks.
"Tell you what, Baby...let's go the Longbranch, have some guys buy us
some drinks, you and I'll dance with some, you pick out the most handsome
guy in the place, at least the one you want to fuck, and we'll approach him
as a team, swell his head together, both tell him that he's one of the most
handsome men we'd ever seen, and that we are mother and daughter, and we
both want him...that we'll do a mother/daughter lesbian show for him, and,
but, he can fuck only you afterwards, after you and I do our show together
for him..."
For the longest time, she wrapped her arms around my neck and looked
deeply at me with lost eyes. "You'd really...really, do that for me, Mom?"
"Of course I will, Baby, or I wouldn't have suggested it...you want us to
go find a stud to fuck, or what?" "Mom...you really don't know how much I
love you.." "Yes, I do...Ginny...you love me as much as I love you."
The Longbranch was packed for an early weeknight. Ooops. Dilbert
McClinton was playing the mainstage, that was why, forgot. Ginny had worn
her favorite tight black dancing dress with a sideslit almost to her butt,
and I had stopped by the house to change into a more refined but still sexy
white cocktail dress that showed my open cleavage to be a little more than
nature actually put there. Within minutes, we had our target picked out,
but played it cool, both shot him glances and hair flips, but bided our
time until he decided to work his way over to us, which we knew he
eventually would. Guys were buying us drinks right and left. Gin' was now
technically underage with the recent law change to 21 and all, but had
anticipated that, getting a realistic-looking fake Maryland driver's
license from some source that Red of Red's Beach Club where she and her
band played knew.
Mr. Studmiester, a TDH (tall, dark, handsome specimen of a man if I say
so myself) finally worked his way over to us after a couple of hours, about
the time we both were feeling quite pleasantly tanked, thank you. "Hi, I'm
Rodney..." "Hello, Rodney" I slurred. "Hello, Rod...how much of a 'rod' do
you actually have, and can it stay 'rodded' for longer than ten minutes?"
Ginny plasteringly asked. "I've got ten inches of rod that can last as long
as you want it to...but before we begin to test it here at the bar, would
either of you ladies care to dance?" "What about dancing with both of us?"
"Ladies' choice, as always".
Gin' and I just laid it out on the dance floor. I'm not much of a
dancer, except for slow, cheek-to-cheek dancing with other womyn at quieter
gay clubs, but I was doing this for Ginny, my daughter, so I let it all
hang out. We danced three songs together as a terpsechorian triad, then
found a quiet booth towards the door of the adjacent country lounge. There
wasn't any point being shy, or holding back.
"Rodney...I'm Carol...and this is my daughter, Ginny..." "How do you
do..." he respectfully acted, shaking our hands from across the booth,
after twenty minutes of body-grinding each other out on the dance floor.
Gin' and I just looked at him like he was our next meal and we hadn't eaten
in a month, because he was and she hadn't.
"Rodney...Rod?...here's the deal..." I taking control of the moment
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